Page 47 of Theta

He's thrusting raggedly into my hand now, and I meet his upward thrusts with downward strokes, and I claim his mouth again, lose myself in another scorching kiss that has him letting out a long sighing groan.

"Story?" he whispers, sounding almost panicked. "I can't stop it. I have to come."

Faster, faster I caress his cock, bringing him to the point of being unable to even thrust anymore—not standing up, at any rate.

In fact…

"Come sit," I command, using my grip on his cock to rotate him and push him into a backward walk to the couch.

He topples backward to a sprawl on the couch and I land on my knees between his thighs. Our clothes are scattered across the room, but I couldn’t care less—I wouldn’t care if armed men stormed the room right now. Nothing—and I mean nothing is going to stop me from taking Killian over the edge.

He stares at me with his mouth agape and wonder in his eyes and feral need on his face; he gathers my hair—now totally loose from the tight bun I keep it in for work—in his hands and piles it on top of my head, gazing at me down the length of his body with ravaged eyes with my head clutched in shaky, trembling hands, pulling me gently toward his cock.

"Is that how it is?" I ask, grinning at him. "Why yes, Killy, I will suck your cock.”

"I wasn't—" he starts, then stops, tries again. "I wasn't—I was just—"

I pull his cock away from his body and slowly lower my mouth toward him, keeping my eyes on his. "Brutal honesty, Killy. Remember?"

He throws his head back, hisses. "Fuck! Fine. Yes. I want your mouth more than fucking anything." He drops his eyes to mine again. Please, Story. Please. Jesus, I'm so close it hurts."

I open my mouth and taste him on my tongue, and his awed sigh of relieved bliss is a sound I'll remember for the rest of my life. I back away again, whispering. "Hold on tight, Killy. And keep your eyes open. I want you to watch."

God, I feel so good. Letting this side of me out of its prison is…I don't even know the word. Beyond relief or catharsis. I've kept this bossy, aggressive, demanding side of me caged up my whole life, in every relationship I've ever had since the first time I discovered it was part of me—and that was the last time, too. The guy on the receiving end was…not cool with it, and spared no words making it clear how he felt. He was so cruel about it that I was traumatized, and I’ve never dared totally let it loose. A little bit, here and there. A sharper tone, the occasional command.

But not this.

Not just fully letting the sexually aggressive side of me have the reins.

I keep my eyes on his as I swallow his length, and he's so fucking thick in my throat I can barely take him. My lips stutter down his dusky, vein-laced length, and I slither my tongue all over his salty skin as I drive my mouth down his cock. I have his balls in my hands, and I caress them and palm them and knead them, and then I run my hands up his thighs and over his hips and up his belly and claw my fingers in his chest muscles and rake them ungently back down, leaving pale scratch-marks on his brown flesh.

"Story," he breathes, hands exquisitely gentle on my head despite the fact that every other muscle in his body is tensed so hard he may as well be carved out of marble. "Ohmygod, oh my god, oh…my…god. What the fuck are you doing to me?” He thrusts helplessly into my mouth, pushing his length down my throat and I have to back away to give him somewhere to thrust, and as his thrusting reaches its apex, I surge down his length again, until my lips are stretched wide around the fat root and I'm gulping and gasping, only to back away and let him slap against his belly.

"Story," he whispers. "Please."

I grin at him. "Oh, Killy, I’m not stopping. You're just so big I need to give my throat and jaw a quick break."

I pull him away from his abs again, cup my hand around the back of his cock at the root, run my tongue up his length, nuzzle my nose along the side of him, worshipping him with my tongue and my lips without taking him into my mouth just yet, because despite what we've both said, neither of us wants this to end. I'm enjoying this too much, and I think it’s safe to say he is too.

His expression is so fraught that it almost brings tears to my eyes, which is kind of weird, but then, I do understand. It’s just…the way he’s looking at me—the worship, the wonder, the awe… the love?

It's so all-consuming and pure and wild that my heart can’t contain it all, and we've barely begun exploring this thing between us.

I listen—a loud, long snore is all I need to turn back in purely on Killian, and on the privilege at hand: his cock, and the cum I'm about to draw out of him.

By the bucketload, I hope.

I nuzzle the side of his shaft with my cheek and nose and lips again, my eyes on his. "Killy, god, you're gorgeous. You know that?"

He shakes his head. "Not till now."

"You are." I fist his length and caress him slowly. "So damn sexy, sprawled out like that for me. Watching me suck you off."

"You don’t curse, but you talk mad dirty talk, sweetheart."

"It's you," I answer, truthfully. "You make me feel safe enough to…" my eyes burn. "To be myself."

I can’t and won’t go there—not now; later. I can give him all that heavy shit later, when it's an appropriate time to do so.