She sinks gracefully to her knees in front of the chair, right there in the middle of her salon, and my heart tries to punch its way out of my chest. Her hands slide up my thighs, squeezing the muscle there.
Thank God the blinds are closed.
“God, Bennett… this hockey body.” Her voice drops. “All these years watching you on the ice, knowing exactly what was under the pads. So strong. So powerful.” Her fingers trace the ridges of my abs through my shirt. “And now it’s all mine to play with.”
After sweeping the cape to the side, she unbuttons my jeans with steady hands, then tugs them down just enough to free me. When my cock springs out, thick and heavy and already leaking, her eyes darken.
“Fuck,” she whispers, wrapping her hand around the base. “Look at this pretty cock. So big. I knew you’d be thick, but Jesus, Bennett.” She gives me one slow stroke, thumb swirling over the head to spread the precum. “I’ve thought about this for so long. Wondered how you’d feel in my mouth. How far I could take you.”
She leans in and drags her tongue up the entire length of me, slow and wet, from root to tip. I groan, hips twitching.
Then she does something that nearly ends me.
She reaches for the silver pump lever on the side of the chair and starts pumping it. The chair rises smoothly beneath me, lifting me higher. She adjusts me with clinical precision until my cock is exactly at the perfect height for her mouth.
“There we go,” she purrs, looking extremely satisfied with herself. “Perfect position for my cock.”
Before I can respond to her ownership claim, she takeshercock into her mouth.
“Fuuuck, Gisele—”
The wet heat of her mouth envelops me, sliding down inch by inch until I hit the back of her throat. She doesn’t stop. She relaxes and takes me deeper, swallowing around the head with a soft, eager hum that vibrates straight through my balls.
I grip the arms of the chair, knuckles white.
She starts moving—slow, luxurious strokes, tongue swirling around the underside on every pass. One hand works what her mouth can’t reach while the other cups and gently rolls my balls. The wet, filthy sounds of her sucking fill the salon, mixing with my ragged breathing.
“You taste so good,” she moans around me, pulling off just long enough to speak before sinking back down. “I could do this for hours. Just keep this big, perfect cock in my mouth until you can’t think straight.”
She pumps the chair lever again, making tiny adjustments, tilting me exactly how she wants me. Then she really starts working me—faster, wetter, deeper. Her head bobs with purpose, cheeks hollowing as she sucks me like she’s trying to pull my soul out through my dick.
“Gisele—baby—fuck—” I can barely form words.
She hums in response, taking me all the way to the root again, nose pressed against my stomach, throat working around me. The sensation is mind-melting. I thread my fingers through her hair, not guiding, just holding on as she destroys me with her mouth.
She pulls off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to my glistening head. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, lipstick smeared. She’s never looked more beautiful.
“I love how you throb against my tongue,” she whispers, pumping me with her fist. “Love how big you are. Love knowing I’m the one making the captain fall apart in my chair.”
Then she dives back down, sucking me harder, faster, one hand stroking in perfect rhythm while the other pumps the chair lever again, making minute adjustments so she can take me at the exact angle she wants. The combination of her wicked mouth and the ridiculous, perfect control she has over the chair is too much.
I’m shaking. Actually shaking.
“I’m close—Gisele, I’m so fucking close—”
She moans encouragingly around me, doubling her efforts. The wet heat, the tight suction, the way she looks up at me with pure lust and devotion quickly becomes too much.
I come with a broken groan of her name, hips jerking as I spill down her throat. She swallows every drop, working me through it with long, slow pulls until I’m trembling and oversensitive, gasping for air.
When she finally pulls off, she presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the head of my cock, then looks up at me with a satisfied little smile.
She reaches for the silver lever and slowly lowers the chair back down, never breaking eye contact.
“Feeling handled, Captain?” she asks sweetly, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
I’m undone. Completely, thoroughly, soul-sucked.
And I’ve never felt more alive in my life.
