Page 100 of Sinful Lord

I start to lose it.

“Holy shit,” I whimper. “You feel so good.”

“You haven’t felt anything yet, angel.”

Tytus’ fingers dig so deep into my cheeks they start to burn.

Together, we shake and tremble. But before either of us can implode, he rips his hands from my ass and grabs at my wrists.

My furious motions are stopped. My fingers are torn from his cock.

“No…” I whisper, disappointment replacing the pressure. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Tytus says, turning around. Those silver-blue eyes glow through the steam. Water runs over his burnt brown hair, dripping down his face and off his thick lips. “You’re doing so well, angel. So fucking well. I want to reward you for your hard work.”

I swallow.

“How?”

He looks down at his throbbing cock.

“Do you want to taste?”

“Yes,” I respond, biting down on my lip.

There’s no hesitation in me. No fear. I’m in full exploration mode. Whatever Tytus’ motivations are, they don’t seem so nefarious anymore. He’s being too intimate. Too vulnerable.

How can I do anything but melt for him?

“Then let’s get out of this shower,” Tytus says, punching down on the shower handle.

Just like that, the water I’d been hiding under for the past hour stops pouring down. All that’s left is the lingering steam and the droplets that cascade down our bodies.

“You don’t want to stay in here?” I ask, a pinprick of fear threatening the thick blanket of lust I’ve been tucked under.

Nothing bad can happen in the shower. But out there? I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to handle everything that happens outside of these frosted glass walls.

“No,” Tytus shakes his head. “I don’t want you drowning in anything but my cum.”

The dirty talk makes my skin tingle and my insides collapse. Suddenly, the shower feels damp and uncomfortable. I want to dry off under the sheets of my new bed. I want to wipe away the water on my skin against Tytus hulking body.

“Do you think you can handle that?” Tytus asks, wrapping his giant palm around my hand.

There’s a pressure in my core that needs to be satisfied. My toes curl against the intensity of what I’m sure is to come; of what I hope is to come.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I say, looking Tytus straight in the eyes.

The smile that washes over his face is so mischievous it steals my breath away.

What am I becoming?

“This way.”

Without stopping to dry off, Tytus leads me out of the bathroom by the wrist. We don’t stop until we’re at the edge of the bed.

“Remember when I got on my knees for you?” he asks. “Now it’s time to return the favor.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Tytus puts a hand on my shoulder, but before he can apply even an ounce of pressure, I follow his orders.