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Drew’s hand is on the back of my head—I have no idea when he moved—and his cock is so far down my throat, I’m choking again.
I push at his solid thighs and try to pull my head back, but I can’t. I’m trapped. Revolted. Terrified?—
“Suck.”
I’m sucking his cock.
He pulls out for a short moment, long enough for me to take a gasping breath, but before I can tell him to fuck off with this shit, my lips are breached once again with his firm, spicy, salt-slicked flesh.
I gag.
He doesn’t care.
“Suck.”
I’m trying, I want to scream, but my mouth is too full, and talking back isn’t my fucking job right now apparently, so I try to get a grip on his dick with my hand so he doesn’t make me puke all over him, and I suck.
Fuck.
He growls like the animal he is, a low rumble that seems never-ending, as he pounds his dick into my mouth over and over again, barely letting me get a grip with my lips.
My drool is everywhere, pouring down my chin. Tears wet my cheeks, and my cock is still shooting out tiny spurts of cum from the aftershocks of my body-bending orgasm—and this—I guess.
“You’re fucking horrible at giving head.” He pulls out again and slaps my hand off his cock like he’s about to tuck himself back in his pants.
I’m deeply insulted. Of all the shitty things he’s ever said to me or called me, nothing pisses me off like that does. “You’re the one who sucks at it, you fucking animal.” I seize his wrist, pure adrenaline giving me strength, and knock his other hand off the back of my head. I plunge down on his cock again, using my new freedom of movement to prove that I am not, in fact, horrible at anything.
“Unh, fuck…goddamn…”
That’s right, asshole.
I’ve gotten head from some of the best dick suckers in New York City. I’ve been getting blow jobs since I was fourteen years old. I know what feels good. And fucking someone’s mouth like you’re drilling a loose pussy isn’t gonna feel good. Obviously. You’d think he’d know this, but maybe he’s never gotten good head before.
I give myself a second to catch my breath, using my hand to rub my excess saliva over his sizeable length before wrapping my mouth around his cockhead again. I drag the tip of my tongue over the slit.
He hisses, and his hand slaps down on the side of my aching neck. The pain sends a thrilling shockwave through me, and I go after him more aggressively. Hand gripping the base, I drag him through my mouth as far as I can take him without gagging, and I suck. Hard.
“Shit—fuck—shit—I’m gonna come—shit?—”
That was fast. Maybe choking me isn’t quite the “favor” he made it sound like. I’d love to laugh, but I have a blow job to finish. However, if he thinks I’m swallowing, he’s the one who can go fuck himself. If he wants that, he can drag his perverted ass to the East Village or find a straight woman.
I pull off, using my hand to milk out endless spurts of jizz as his shuddering grunts of release fill the high-ceilinged penthouse. I watch his cum shoot over my shoulder. A little of it hits my upper arm, but I manage to avoid most of it. When I’m positive his cock is drained, I drop it and push myself off the floor. I put my dick back in my pants and smirk up at the shocked look on his face.
“Don’t get off on it, do you?”
He averts his gaze, focused on putting himself back together. “Shut the fuck up.”
I snort. “Will this be on the menu permanently, or were you just experimenting?”
“I said to?—”
“Shut the fuck up. I heard you, Jack.”
That earns me a firm slap across the face, and I do, in fact, shut the fuck up.
He zips up his pants and runs both hands through his hair. I press my palm to my stinging cheek and stare at him while he glares at me. “I think that’ll be all for today,” he says stiffly.
“Mmhmm.”
