Page 74
Kento’s smile curves. “No.”
He reaches down. His fingers find the button of my pants and pop it open. The zipper follows, and I flinch, body going tight, but his free hand shoots out and closes around my wrist, pinning it flat to the desk beside my hip.
“Stay still, prince. Be good.”
“You—”
“Shh.” He works my pants open with one hand, the other still holding me in place. “You asked. I’m answering.”
He tugs the fabric down, then slips his hand inside and frees me completely. His palm wraps around my cock.
“Fuck.”
He strokes me slowly, the heel of his hand dragging up the length of me until my hips twitch against his touch. “Still pretending this isn’t for me?” He presses harder. “You’re already leaking. I can feel it.”
His thumb circles the head, and a broken sound slips out of my throat. Well, fuck. I was right about his hands. My body has apparently developed an attachment to them, and he definitely knows how to use them. “I want this,” he says softly. “I want you shaking against me. I want the sound you make when you stop fighting it. And right now,” another filthy stroke, “I want my mouth on you.”
“Wait—”
He ignores the protest and keeps working me. “You’re dripping all over my fingers.” He lifts his hand to show me the wet shine on his skin, then brings it back down and resumes the pace like nothing happened. “Tell me again how this isn’t for me.”
“I… fuck… I was already hard.”
“Hm.” He leans in and bites the side of my neck, not hard enough to mark, but enough to make me gasp. “You got harder the second I touched you. You’ve been hard since I said hello. And now you’re going to let me take care of it.”
“I’m not letting you do shit.”
He releases my wrist only to sink to his knees. The sight of him looking up at me like I’m some fucking god and he’s my most devoted servant makes my head spin.
“You—”
“Quiet.” He wraps his hand around the base again, holding me steady.
He leans in and drags the flat of his tongue up the underside of my cock in one stripe. My whole body jolts, and a broken moan rips out of me.
“Fuck. More—” Who said that? Because it certainly wasn’t me.
When I try to thrust, he pins my hips with an arm across them, making me take only what he gives.
I gasp, the words dissolving into another moan when he hollows his cheeks. “Fuck— You’re— Ah—”
His tongue presses flat against the underside as he sinks lower, then pulls back with a wet drag that makes my thighs tremble. Every time he takes me deeper, the heat of his mouth tightens. My free hand goes into his hair, and I pull on the strands. “How are you so… ah… fucking good at this?” And I mean that, because holy fuck, I’ve had my dick sucked before, but nothing has felt as good as this.
The pressure builds too fast, and my thighs start to shake.
“Wait… I’m gonna—”
He sinks down one more time and that’s all it takes.
I come hard. He doesn’t pull off. He stays right there as he drinks it down.
Did he just swallow my cum? My thoughts have scattered in twelve different directions, and not a single one of them is useful.
When he’s done, he rises to his feet, still standing between my legs, crowding me exactly where he left me. His lips are shiny then he leans in.
I try to turn my face away. His hand shoots up, fingers locking around my jaw.
“Fuck off.”
