Because life is too fucking short and tomorrow is never promised. I could die before I ever get to taste him again.
So I reach out and grab life by the balls. Ghost's balls, actually. That's exactly where my hand goes first. I wrap my fingers around the thick, heavy weight of them, squeezing just enough to make his smirk twitch.
His breath catches, his cock twitches in response, and fuck, I love that I can do this to him.
I let my other hand slide up the rigid length of him, slow, teasing, dragging my nails along the base just to watch his abs tighten.
Then, finally, I taste him.
My tongue flicks over the head, a slow, tempting lick, and his reaction is instant. A groan escapes him, deep and satisfied. A smirk still plays at the corner of his mouth, but I can see the shift in his eyes.
I keep my gaze locked on his, never breaking eye contact, watching him watch me as I drag my tongue along the length of his cock.
His breathing changes. His jaw clenches, like he's barely keeping himself restrained.
On the outside, he might look controlled, calculated, but I can feel the tension building inside him. The pressure. The desperation.
I lick him again, slowly, circling the tip with my tongue, pulling him further into my mouth.
He inhales deeply, his chest rising, releasing a long, almost controlled breath. His fingers tangle in my wet hair.
He's holding back, but he won't be doing that for long.
"Play with yourself, Adora."
His voice is rough, strangled, but a clear command.
"I want to see your fingers between your thighs."
A shiver rips through me.
I obey, it would be impossible not to.
My free hand slides down between my legs, fingers slipping through my slick pussy. I moan around his cock, the sound vibrating through him, making his muscles twitch, his lips parting on a silent gasp.
His eyes flash with something wild. He wants more.
"Finger yourself. Three."
A fucking order.
He's always liked this. Controlling my pleasure. Owning my body. I do as I'm told, slipping three fingers inside, gasping as the pleasure spikes.
Too much. Not enough.
I swirl my tongue over the head of his cock, sucking harder, taking him deeper.
He groans, his hips jerking forward, unable to hold back.
"Your clit. Play with it."
His voice is a dark rasp, barely more than a breath.
My fingers find that perfect spot, and the second I touch it lightning strikes, making me moan around him again.
His fingers tighten in my hair. The control he's clinging to finally snaps.
He grips my hair harder, forcing my head still, dragging himself out of my mouth.
