I’m not surprised when he targets my nipples again, which are completely swollen and dripping. He lingers on them fora while, licking the excess goo off until they’re spiked and throbbing again.
By the time his mouth drops down toward my waistband, I’m practically vibrating. He licks right down the center of my lower abs, his tongue catching on the faint trail of hair leading straight into my jeans.
“Would you let me?” he asks, his fingers trembling as they trace the sharp lines of my V-cut. “Just use you like that? Let me drop my load right here on your stomach?”
He knows the answer to that is an absolute, unquestionable yes.
“You’re making me so fucking crazy. I’m in so much trouble.”
He pops the button of my jeans, his knuckles brushing against the hard outline of my cock, and his breath hitches when he finally yanks my zipper down. His hands are trembling as he palms me through my boxers, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the cockhead, smearing the pre-cum soaking through the fabric.
“You’re so wet,” he mutters, looking dazed.
Miles stares at my cock for a long second, his lips parted, his breath coming fast. Then, like he can’t help himself, he dives in and licks right up the underside, catching the sensitive slit with his tongue.
“Fuck,” he groans, his mouth closing over the head, sucking down on the crown. He swirls his tongue around the tip, lapping up the leakage before burying my shaft even deeper into his mouth with another sloppy suck, letting out a broken moan.
Fuck indeed.
I’m trying my best here, okay? But he pulls more of me into his mouth, his tongue swirling.
I bite my lip.
Holy fucking God,it’s too much.None of the guys have ever gone down on me. No, scratch that. No one has ever gone down on me like this, just straight-up devouring my piece while I’m lying here helpless. He slides his lips a fraction lower, wrapping tighter around the shaft, and it feels so fucking incredible—holy shit, my hips flare up on their own when his throat clamps down for one more hard suck and—
Fuck, I’m blowing.
Way too fast, and way too hard.
My cock jerks violently, firing a heavy shot of cum straight into the back of his throat before I can even try to hold it back. My spine arches off the mattress, every muscle locking hard as I paint his mouth, pumping load after load right down his neck. Miles chokes around the volume, his throat working frantically as he swallows every single bit of it, a total moaning mess.
When he finally slides off the head, his lips are dripping with cum and he slowly licks them.
“I’mreallyin trouble, Kit.” He looks up, and the exact millisecond his dazed eyes lock onto mine, I see reality hit him. “—fuck!”
And then he’s scrambling back.
Not, like, gracefully. He goes from draining my dick to practically launching himself backward, nearly eating shit off the mattress, arms pinwheeling before he catches himself on the nightstand.
“Fuck. Fuck, Kit, I—” His voice cracks. He’s staring at my chest like he just realized my pecs are landmines. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. That was—fuck. That was completely unhinged, right? Like, super fucking weird. Not the doll thing. The—me. Me saying all that shit about you and doing—fuck.”
His hands flap uselessly in the air like he’s trying to physically push the words back into his mouth. His dick is still completely out of his pants, pulsing and weeping against his lower stomach, so he hurriedly snatches a pillow to block it from view. A heavy smear of my cum glazes his chin, and he wipes it with the back of his hand, looking entirely out of his mind.
“You’re probably so weirded out right now. Fuck. I’m gonna—” He twists toward the edge of the bed. “I’m just gonna—”
The mattress dips hard as I lunge upright and snap my fingers around his wrist before he can bolt.
Miles freezes.
Because that’s not a thing that happens.
Breaking mid-scenedoesn’t happen—the doll stays still until the session is wrapped or to safeword. Miles stares at me and I stare back, and there are a few seconds where neither of us do anything.
“Miles,” I finally say, and my voice comes out rough as fuck. “Chill. It’s fine.”
He looks down at my hand on his wrist, then back up at me. He looks genuinely pained, like he crossed a line he can’t un-cross. Yeah, I mean, technically hedid.But the thing is, I don’t actually care.
“You’re freaked out,” he says. “You’re freaked out and you’re just being nice because—”
