Page 120 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

Kit stared at me in surprise, his mouth falling open slightly. Eventually he said, “Of course. But only for a tiny bit, mind.”

“Why?”

“Because that mouth of yours is divine perfection and I want to come inside you.”

“Oh.” Anticipation threaded through my veins.

“You can have my cock,” he rasped, eyes wide and hungry. “But only if I can taste you at the same time.”

I frowned, trying to work out the logistics of that, and Kit kissed my creased forehead with a soft laugh.

He leaned over and pulled a pillow slightly down the bed, then before I could process what was happening, he’d flipped us so his head was on the pillow and I was lying on top of him. Kit’s hands stroked up and down my back, warm and soothing.

“Turn around,” he murmured against my shoulder.

When I merely blinked in confusion, he guided me with his hands, helping me understand. When his colossal cock was an inch away from my face, it became perfectly clear.

But I probably should have remembered how big Kit’s dick was.

Absolutely bloody massive.

It towered in front of my face, thick and imposing and fully erect, despite the fact I hadn’t even touched it yet. Just from having me naked on top of him, apparently. Dark hair curled around the base, and the sheer size of it made my throat close up with something between want and terror. It was way, way bigger than my novice-level mouth could probably handle.

Oops.

Kit’s hand stroked down my back, soothing. “Just the tip will be more than enough,” he said softly, reading my panic with embarrassing accuracy. “Any more than that will hurt your lovely jaw. And only if you like it. Can you rest your head on my leg?”

I obeyed, settling the side of my head against the solid warmth of his thigh. The position felt intimate in a way that I couldn’t fully process. My hand reached out to grasp his waiting cock, its heaviness warm and real against my palm. The enormity of what I was about to do should have terrified me, but with Kit’s gentle hands on my skin and his patient breathing beneath me, I felt nothing but safe.

I brought it to my mouth.

The first taste hit me like a shock—salt and something sharp, musky, distinctly Kit. Heat unfurled low inside me as my tongue lapped at the thick smear of liquid, tracing over the tiny slit just like he always did with me. The softest skin stretched over steel hardness, the contrast sending me dizzy. Another experimental lick, swirling around the crown, and Kit groaned, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest and into my bones.

Strong hands gripped my thighs, lifting and positioning me exactly where he wanted. Anticipation coiled tight in my stomach as I waited for that warm mouth to close back around my needy cock.

But Kit had other plans.

Wet heat dragged up my crease—tongue laving me with deliberate strokes. The breath punched out of my lungs. Again. And again. Each pass sent shockwaves through my body, leaving me trembling and exposed. The thundering of my pulse filled the room; there was no way Kit couldn’t hear how he was destroying me.

That tongue began lingering at my hole—barely there at first, ghost-touch pressure, then pressing with clear intent. Holy fuck. Electric fire shot through my veins. Kit had never used his mouth there before. My vision whited out, as my system short-circuited, every nerve ending screaming pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

A broken moan escaped me. Kit’s cock slipped from my lips, forgotten.

Complete mission failure. I’d abandoned my post entirely.

“That’s it,” Kit murmured, voice like gravel, thumb drawing lazy circles on my thigh. “Just rest your head on me now and let go.”

Boneless. That’s what I became—melting into him like heated wax. This was Kit’s specialty: dismantling me piece by piece, coaxing me into a state of complete surrender where nothing existed except sensation and the warm safety of his hands on my skin. I pressed deeper into his warm body, desperate to dissolve the boundaries between us, to become one breathing, burning thing.

My hand wrapped around his cock—barely functional, thumb dragging mindlessly along the shaft whenever my brain managed to fire a coherent signal. But thought was dissolving fast.

His tongue circled my rim in torturous loops, each sweep erasing another piece of sanity. Then pressure—the tip breaching me, just barely, and a gasp tore from my throat. He retreated, traced the edge again with maddening precision, then pushed deeper, inside of me now, hot and wet and impossibly good.

My grip tightened involuntarily around him and Kit’s groan vibrated against me, working me open with nothing but tongue and dedication, pressing deeper each time until I was grinding against his mouth, drunk on need and sensation.

One hand abandoned my thigh. I collapsed into him, helpless and begging without words.

The soft click of a bottle cap sent sparks straight to my cock.