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“I have a burner phone in this very drawer.” And I’m sure he means the one right to the left of my head.
What starts as a need to lick my lips ends up with my tongue caressing his crown. It’s a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. My body fights against me, mouth watering, thighs clenching.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
The phone. You want the phone.
A simple graze with the tip of my tongue turns into licking his tip, then his length. When I touch his fingers gripping himself, he moves his hand, sliding it into my hair instead. I keep going, flicks and swirls of my tongue that I can’t stop until I’ve gone all the way to his base and savored my way back to the tip.
Fuck, I hate myself. I hate how wet I am, and I hate the way my thighs strain from tightening to ease the ache. I hate that he tastes so fucking good to me, so addictive.
“Kneel up and put me in your mouth, Kayla. You’re clearly starved for me.”
Starved? He has no fucking idea what it’s been like to not feel pleasure and satisfaction for four years. To fake an entire sexual relationship with a man who could not make me come even if he tried his hardest.
He doesn’t understand me coming three times since he’s been back is a record.
Moving up and placing my weight on my knees, I squeeze my eyes shut as I take him in, doing my best to ignore the fact that Nate is the man attached to the dick I’m sucking.
I relish the space it takes in my mouth. I’m so full of him, and I push harder until I’m gagging around his tip at the back of my throat. Even then, I don’t need pressure from his hand on me, and he gives me none. It’s out of my own free will that I choke myself on his length. I want to feel more of him. I want to feel his presence deep inside me and know that there’s no escape from it.
“That’s it, beautiful girl. Take every inch of my cock down your throat.”
Before I can think clearly, I take masochistic pleasure in forcing myself closer, in swallowing his impossibly hard and thick cock. My eyes water, and my breathing stops as I push myself so far that my nose presses against the coarse hair at the base of his dick. I flick my tongue, and I’m too gone to stop myself from moaning around him. It makes him hiss, and his hand tightens in my hair. I feel his knuckles against my skull, the pull so delicious it doubles my wetness. I move my tongue again, as much as I can with the pressure of him against it. Tilting my head up, I pull away, all the way to the tip, and he releases a groan. I watch his mouth drop open, his eyes alight with need. Spit dribbles down my chin, and I don’t even care as I take him in again. I’m not sure what I’m begging for anymore. The phone, or to fulfill a sick need inside me.
“Shit.”
This time, instead of letting me torture myself, he thrusts into my mouth, down my throat, making me gag. He pulls out and does it again. He fucks me relentlessly until his thrusts shorten, until I hear his teeth gritting, and until he throws his head back with a grunt.
He explodes in my mouth at the same time as he pulls out the slightest and some of it spills on my lips and chin. I gasp, mouth full of his cum. It’s thick and sticky. It should make me gag and taste disgusting. Fuck knows I barely gave Ivan a one-minute blowjob, never mind letting him come in my mouth.
So, believe me that I surprise myself when I lock my gaze onto his and swallow. I don’t recognize myself when I let him run his thumb up my chin, gathering his cum and pushing it back into my mouth.
I wrap my lips around his finger, my eyes fluttering shut as I lick it clean.
“It’s good to see that you’re learning your place, little sunflower.”
The words twist my gut, and reality slaps me so hard in the face I fall onto my ass and swat his hand away from me. Crawling back, my head hits the seat of the chair.
“The phone,” I rasp. “Give me the fucking phone.”
It’s hard to give an order with the taste of him on my tongue and my knees burning.
He takes his time putting himself back in his pants. His face is blank, only his breathing showing me he just had an orgasm. As he buckles his belt, I use the desk to bring myself back to a standing position.
Without a word, he opens the drawer and brings out the phone. He hands it out to me, but just as I’m about to grab it, he wraps his arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him as the phone presses against my ribs. Sliding his other hand beneath the satin robe, his fingers find my pussy lips, moving lower. He doesn’t enter me, though. No, he just makes a point. That I’m so fucking wet I’m practically dripping.
“Remember,” he murmurs. “I can take back privileges at any time. Don’t use this phone to try to get out, Kayla. You don’t want to see what I’m like when I’m truly angry.”
“Truly angry?” I grit out, vaguely attempting to step away and certainly in vain. “What the hell was yesterday if not angry? You impaled a man’s hand to the dresser.”
He shrugs. “I had to make a point. But you don’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you use this phone the wrong way. It might not hurt as much as what I did to Daniel, but it will feel worse, believe me.”
There’s no point trying to suppress the shiver coursing through my body. He feels it too, and the corner of his mouth tips up. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now go get dressed. We really are going to be late.”
He releases me, giving me the phone, and I don’t wait one more second to escape his vicinity. I stride to his office door, and as I open it, come face to face with a blonde woman, her fist up, as if ready to knock.
She’s about my height, although completely different. Bright blue eyes, high cheekbones. She’s got an arrogant look about her. An I’m-better-than-you highbrow bitchiness that contrasts with my rough don’t-fuck-with-me bluntness.
