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He pulled at her hair, drawing her head back, feeling her fight the tug at the strands and watching the pleasure that consumed her expression.
He pulled at her hair again, his teeth gritting as her lashes fluttered and she took his cock deeper into her mouth.
“Like that?” He was almost shaking with the pleasure.
“Hmm. ” She lifted her lips from his aching flesh and raised her eyes.
“Do you?” she asked him a second before her tongue took a lingering taste of the underside of his cock.
“Oh hell yes,” he groaned, sending a surge of pleasure racing through her. “It’s so damned good I’
m about to burn alive with it. ”
His abdomen flexed and rippled with tension. His scrotum was tight as she cupped and caressed it in the palm of her hand, and heat radiated from him.
Crista took him into her mouth again, holding his gaze, sucking him deep and hard as she remembered, licking the underside and feeling her own edge of ecstasy twisting inside her at the pleasure she was bringing him.
She knew better than this, better than to allow herself to be affected by his pleasure. But she couldn’t help it now any more than she could have done anything to stop it eight years before.
She loved giving Dawg pleasure. She loved watching his expression tense as he fought for control, how his body tensed and a sheen of sweat slicked his muscles.
Her mouth moved on his cock, taking as much as possible, holding it deep and then retreating to suckle at the head with loving greed. She moaned at the taste of pre-cum that whispered over her taste buds and teased more to her hungry mouth as his hands tightened in her hair.
Fingers tugged at the long strands, pulled it forward, drew it over his taut abdomen, and a whispered male groan filled her ears.
“Ah, Crista. So sweet and good. ” His voice was low and tight with lust. “Perfect, sweet mouth. ”
She tongued the underside of his cock, licked and probed and gloried at the shudder that traveled through his heavily muscled body.
She wasn’t as hesitant as she had been eight years ago. She knew what he liked then, what he still liked now, and she applied the lessons he had given her through the long, dark hours on an unforgettable summer night. Lessons she had dreamed of, fantasized about using on him once again.
“Crista, sweetheart. ” Dawg could feel the sweat building on his flesh, the heat rushing through his body.
His head fell to the back of the couch, his eyes closed, and memory slammed into him.
Innocent brown eyes staring at him from the same spot where she knelt now. She had helped him into the houseboat and then to the couch, and there he had pulled her to his lap, kissed her, caressed her, and teasingly convinced her to go down on him.
“Suck my dick, baby,” he whispered now as he had whispered then. “God, your mouth is killing me. ”
She had been more shy then. Hesitant. A bit of fear in her wide eyes, but mixed with that fear had been immeasurable excitement.
He forced his head up, his eyes to open, and he stared at her now. Not that much had changed.
She was still shy, a little afraid, but the hesitancy was gone. And the pleasure was starker, clearer.
The sight of that pleasure nearly destroyed his control. That coupled with the heat of her sucking mouth, the tempting touch of her fingers on his shaft and his balls, and her moan, and Dawg knew his control wouldn’t last much longer.
“Sweet mercy,” he groaned, arching, driving his cock deeper in her mouth as she began to lengthen and quicken her suckling strokes. “You’re destroying me, Crista. ”
He hadn’t expected this. He had expected a fight. Hell, he halfway wanted a fight. Anything to give him an excuse to escape the hunger that dug into his guts like a dull knife.
There was no escaping it with Crista’s hot mouth wrapped around his dick, though. No escaping the pleasure or the pain. Each time he stared down at her, past and present merged. What he had believed were dreams swirled alongside reality.
His chest clenched at the sight of her, emotions held so closely in check for most of his life swirling inside him, confusing him, multiplying the pleasure until he was pulling at her hair, his hips lifting to her, his cock flexing, tensing.
“Crista. Sweetheart. ” He could barely breathe. Sensation tore through, wrenching at his muscles and stealing his control. “Ah God. I’m gonna come, baby. ”
He couldn’t stand it. His balls were so tight they were torturous, the seed boiling in them, building, breaking down the walls of his restraint as easily as a hammer against sandstone.
