Page 80 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

For a second I consider backing out. I can make some excuse and walk away from this entire situation. Then I steel myself.

I’m not backing down.

Not from this. Not from him. I lean forward.

I start with my tongue, dragging it slowly up the underside the way Sera always did for me. The slow movement by the courtesan usually made my breath catch and my hips jerk.

Garrett makes a sound low in his throat.

I wrap one hand around the base of his cock while the other moves lower, cupping his balls with careful pressure. The lovely courtesan told me this part matters. The dual sensation grounds you, makes everything else feel more intense.

“Fuck,” he breathes above me, his voice strangled and rough.

I take him deeper and hollow my cheeks the way I learned feels best, applying suction while my tongue traces patterns. His breathing changes, coming faster and shallower with an audible strain. That means I’m doing this right.

Then I realize something unexpected.

I’m getting hard.

My own cock is pressing painful and insistent against my breeches, aching with a need.

I’m turned on by this.

Garrett is falling apart above me and I’m the one doing it. More raw sounds spill from him and his thighs tremble on either side of my shoulders. That iron control he wears like armor is unraveling thread by thread under my tongue. I’m making the unshakeable commander lose his composure, and the power of it burns through me.

Just like that, Garrett fucking Clayborne is at my mercy now.

I work him harder, faster, chasing the sounds he makes. Every grunt, every sharp intake of breath, every bitten-off curse fuels something hungry and dark inside me.

“Wolf,” he gasps, and his hand tangles in my hair.

I expect him to just hold on.

Instead, he pulls and forces me to take him deeper until he hits the back of my throat.

Moisture stings my eyes and I can’t breathe. His control is completely gone now. He’s holding my head in place and moving his hips, fucking my mouth with desperate thrusts.

His cock grows thicker and harder in my mouth as he plunges in and out. It should make me angry and me pull away.

Instead it makes me harder. Arousal sits heavy in my balls and I feel like they’re about to burst.

My hands fly to his thighs, trying to push him away. Black spots dance across my vision. I slap him harder, nails clawing into muscle. I’m suffocating and just before everything goes dark, he registers it.

Garrett’s hand tightens in my hair and he pulls me off his cock. I gasp a breath into my burning lungs, spit connecting my lips to his length. I only have half a second to recover before he’s guiding me back down. Deeper this time. I choke around him but he doesn’t stop.

I can’t take it anymore. My own need is clawing at me insistently. I stroke him with my tongue and swallow the tip of his cock deep into my throat.

Garrett grunts above me, the sound punched out of his chest. His whole body goes rigid. Every muscle locking up at once. Another soft gasp escapes him that almost sounds desperate and then he’s coming.

He comes hot and bitter in my mouth, pulsing against my tongue while his whole body shakes with it. His grip on my hair tightens to the point of pain and his hips jerk erratically, riding out every last wave until finally he’s spent.

When it’s over, he releases my hair slowly like his hands have forgotten how to work properly.

He’s braced against the rock with both hands flat to the stone behind him, head tipped back and chest heaving like he’s run a mile uphill. His eyes are closed and his throat works, but he hasn’t made a sound since he finished.

I spit his cum onto the ground and wipe my mouth on the back of my wrist. I stand up and wait for Garrett, staring at him until he opens his eyes.

He does, slow and dazed.