“I’m starting to realize you love to lie,” he observes. “Maybe I should give you something more honest to do with this mouth of yours.”
Annnnd that goes straight to my dick. It was already hardening and reacting to his hands, tongue, and words, but now it’s completely rigid, waiting for his next command.
“Like what?” I whisper, my trembling hands gripping the bark I’m leaning against.
“On your knees,” Atticus demands gently, his hands falling away.
He does not push me down, does not guide me. Atticus fully expects that I will comply and obey on instinct alone.
And he is absolutely correct. I fall to my knees, the bare skin of my knees digging into the dirt and the leaves.
Atticus looks like a fucking god towering over me, his brown hair windblown and his toned body tensed with coiled power and desire. His pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling.
“Pull me out,” he instructs, his hands loose at his sides as he stares at me.
Am I going to do this? Am I going to touch another man’s dick, right here, out in the open? My mind is reeling, and my own want is battling heavily with what I know is expected of me, what will amount to being another dirty secret I hold close to my chest and hidden from the world.
And how would I evenstart?I hardly even remember the last blowjob I received.
Atticus’s large hand tangles into my hair, his eyes softening slightly. “Stop drowning in your own panic,” he commands. “It’s doing you no good. You want this; I can see it in your eyes. You want to obey.”
Ireallywant to obey. I want him to tell me I’m good again; I want to think of nothing but him and how he smells, how he tastes. But is it going to crush me when we’re done?
I guess it really doesn’t matter. I’ve known from the moment I saw him as a little boy that I could never deny him.
With shaking hands, I blindly reach out, never taking my eyes from his. I fumble with his joggers, pulling them down his thighs and then repeating the process with his briefs.
I can see it in my peripheral when his dick springs free, but I don’t look. No, I keep my eyes locked onto his.
I need him to tell me what to do now. For him to decide, to dictate, to take away the panic and uncertainty, and let me turn everything else off.
“Good. Have you done this before?” he asks, and slowly, I shake my head. “Even better. Let me teach you.”
Any fear I had revolving around the logistics of this act disappears, and I lean into his touch—his hand still nestled in my hair—and release a long, steady breath. Atticus twitches.
“Take me in your hand. Just the base,” he instructs, voice now resembling gravel and need.
My eyes drop to his straining dick, the head swollen and wet. He’s a soft pink color, which is a sharp contradiction to the size of him. Thick and long, and showcasing a few prominent veins that have my mouthwatering.
I’m not much smaller than him, if at all, but paired with his words and his formidable personality, he seems larger than life.
Tentatively, I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft. His skin is soft yet incredibly hot to the touch. The realization that this beast will be in my mouth in just a moment hits me like a truck, and I’m lust-drunk, so desperate for it to slide against my tongue.
When my fingers tighten slightly, Atticus hisses.
“Good job, sweetheart,” he says, rocking his hips just slightly so that his angry red tip brushes my lips.
A soft whine leaves me, the taste of his precome intoxicating as I lick my bottom lip. It’s salty and musky and so insanelymanlythat I want to combust, to die, to experience this forever and not hate myself afterward.
“You like how it tastes, Cam?” Atticus asks, taking hold of my wrist and using my hand to rub himself over my lips again. “Does it drive you crazy?”
It does. It so fucking does, and I’m going slightly out of my mind waiting for him to tell me to put it in my mouth. To suck him down, choke, cry.
“Lick me,” he says instead, and I’ll take what I can get, so I run my tongue flat over his head like a needy dog, over and over again. “Ahh, yeah, baby, just like that.”
He rocks forward again, rubbing his leaking slit over my waiting tongue.
I let him, enjoying the smooth slide of his skin, how his brows are furrowing, and his hand is tightening in my hair.
