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I let out a low groan, a few drops of precum, and I persist.
11
DREW
My body is a fucking inferno. His dark curls are silk in my fist, and his mouth is dripping more than the wettest pussy I’ve ever felt. His drool slides down my taint, and pools in my asshole.
I still can’t bring myself to look at him. I am, however, staring at the ceiling with wide-open eyes and a silently panting mouth, my abs quivering with the shaky breaths I’m doing everything in my power to keep quiet. It’s not that I care if he knows he’s having an effect on me, but the last thing this “moment” needs is a fucking soundtrack to remember it by.
I’ve hit a new low.
Not only would Jericho break up with me if she found out about this, but I wouldn’t put it past her to try and get me fired, too.
She holds grudges, but she also gets me. What I’m wondering, in between deep pulses of pleasure, is whether she’ll give me a pass for this because I’ve been so out of it lately. I haven’t been myself. Temporary insanity.
Olivier yanks his mouth off my balls, forcing his head back and testing my grip on his hair. I hear him jerking off, and he’s not making the same kind of effort I am to keep quiet. He’s overindulged at best, and a true hedonist at worst. He’ll revel in every moment of this utter filth. I refuse to look at him.
I clench my eyes shut, though, when he taps my now erect cock against his pillowy lips a few times. Thrills zing down my inner thighs and up my spine, causing me to choke on a groan. I’m creeping closer and closer to an edge, wondering if he’ll take me over it, or yank me back from it. I admit, I’m curious to see what he does.
In the next moment, he engulfs me, taking half my length until my tip hits the back of his throat where he chokes and gags and rears back.
Involuntarily, I swear, lift my head, and our gazes lock. The look in his eyes is fucking unhinged. If I hadn’t had a perfectly lucid conversation with him before all this started, I would have sworn he’d taken something. But maybe it’s just now kicking in. His eyes are hungry and hooded and hot—the deep blue at the base of a burning flame.
I slide my hand down the side of his face—it’s not meant to be a caress—to rest my hand on his neck, my thumb at the base of his throat.
He exhales a loud, shuddering breath, then, sharply inhaling, he plunges down on me again, swallowing past his gag reflex this time and causing my hips to come off the couch.
“Fuck,” I grit out.
One try, and he’s a fucking expert, taking me deeper and deeper with every plunge. His rough swallows compress my entire head in his throat. Reflexively, my hand tightens on his neck.
Fuck—it’s hard to be careful when he’s being so aggressive.
Instinct guides me to turn my squeeze into a pulse. I press hard as he moves up my cock and release some pressure as he goes down, matching his rhythm, making sure I don’t cut off his oxygen for too long. Making sure he has the room to take me as deep as he wants.
He’s watching me as closely as I’m now watching him. His lips are purple-pink—not blue. His face is splotchy but not pale. I’m fucking slightly into him now, and he’s squirming on his knees, constantly readjusting, like he’s trying hard not to come.
He and I need to have a talk.
But later.
Not right now.
I’ve got a serious case of sudden entitlement cropping up that has me wanting more than I took last time.
“You better fucking swallow,” I say.
His brow pinches, but he doesn’t stop deep-throating me.
And I don’t stop choking him.
His soft noises turn to longer, drawn out groans, and his eyelids flutter.
“Is sucking the doorman’s cock gonna make the poor little rich boy come?”
He hums around my dick, eyes flashing me a warning look.
“Bet you taste like fucking caviar.”
