17
TARA
Somebody call a doctor. I think my brain just short-circuited.
Alfie didn’t ask.He told me.
And I have never been more turned on in my life.
I nod, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down. The soft black fabric barely contains the heat of him, the outline thick and straining.
The moment he springs free, my breath catches.
Oh.
Oh my god.
I knew Alfie Spencer would be big, but this is almost unfair.
A slow, nervous thrill coils in my stomach as I wrap my fingers around him, testing the weight, the heat, the way he twitches in my grip. My mouth goes dry.
I look up, searching his face for confirmation. His jaw is tight, his eyes dark and fixed on me, chest rising and falling like he’s holding back everything he wants to say.
I give an experimental stroke, feeling the way he pulses against my palm.
“It’s so big,” I murmur, more to myself than him.
Alfie groans, his head tipping back, hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Fuck, Tara," he rasps, voice thick, strained. "You have no idea how good that feels.”
His hips jerk slightly into my grip, his control fraying.
I smirk, leaning in, letting my breath ghost over the sensitive skin.
"Then let me make it even better."
Swallowing hard, I release his shaft and drop my head to him. I lean forward to take the thick head into my mouth. My lips wrap around him like a velvet vice as I begin to suck.
“Fuck Tara.” Alfie grunts above me, wrapping his fingers in my hair for leverage. He starts thrusting gently.
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat as I adjust to his size. The salty taste of his precum hits my tongue as I swirl it around his tip. Alfie’s grip on my hair tightens, guiding my movements as I bob up and down on his length.
“That’s it, Tink. Take all of me.”
I look up at him through my lashes, locking eyes as I take him deeper. His breath stutters, jaw tight, muscles coiled like he’s barely holding it together.
His cock twitches against my tongue—needy, desperate. I slow down, dragging my lips over him, savoring the way his fingers flex against the desk like he’s fighting not to grab my hair, not to fuck my mouth the way he wants to.
“Fuck!” His voice is a hoarse whisper.
His hips roll forward, testing, teasing, pushing a little deeper. I moan around him, letting him feel it, and his head tips back, a sharp exhale breaking free.
And then?—
He pulls away.
I whimper at the loss, my lips parting in protest, but he’s already stroking his thumb along my bottom lip, eyes dark and knowing.
