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He thrusts his hips, going deeper. “You have some talent there. That little mouth can barely open wide enough, can it?” The words feel hard and my stomach flips over as I slip him in and out faster. “Please fucking tell me you practiced on a banana or a carrot or some goddamn thing.”
Understanding floods through me and I withdraw in a gasp for air.
I look up at him. “Sorry, no fruits or vegetables were used or harmed in the making of this blow job.”
He looks like he wants to die. I’m sure my awkwardness frustrates him. But he needs to really understand what I’m saying here.
“I’ve never used or practiced on anything. Animal, vegetable, or mineral. Or human.”
The relief on his face makes me smile.
“No practice on anything ever,” he repeats, and I confirm what I was trying to say. “Anything or anyone?”
I shake my head, letting the tip of his dick brush against my lips. I squeeze the base as it jerks in my hand. “Never seen or been seen. Never touched or been touched.”
“Fuck, baby,” he moans as my cheeks burn and my clit throbs. “You never told me that.”
“I didn’t know how.”
He groans again. “You’re fucking perfect. Now, suck that dick like there’s a prize inside. Because after that, I’m going to make that pussy mine.”
I relax my throat this time and plunge my open mouth onto his length, taking the head all the way to my tonsils as I bring my hand up and cup the incredible weight of his balls.
He grits out a string of curse words, his body tensing, then floods my throat with a burst of savory flavor. I want to feel him lose control. I need it.
I want to be the one that makes him come undone with my mouth, right here. Right now.
But he has other ideas.
He pushes me back with his heavy hand. “You’re going to end this too soon, baby.” He pulls himself from my mouth with a pop. “Up.”
He offers his hands, helping me stand as saliva runs down my chin.
I gasp as he hauls me upward and tosses me on the bed. I bounce on the mattress and before I come to rest he’s tugging my boots off, tossing them across the room with a new darkness in his eyes.
I look at him, then me, and then at him again. “I think I’m overdressed.”
“Way fucking overdressed.”
My heart is racing as he growls. His eyes are lusty, demanding. Even if I told him to stop right now, I’m not sure if he could.
Not that I’d want him to.
He practically rips my jeans from my hips, barely taking a second to undo the button and zipper as I arch my back. I put my hands up as he grabs the bottom of my shirt and suddenly wish I had worn a better bra today. And my underwear? Oh boy.
He looks down at the tattered, semi off-white cotton fabric covering my tits, and his lips curl like I’m wearing the sexiest Victoria’s Secret lingerie.
I’m still distracted by his cock as he climbs onto the mattress, lifting me under my arms onto the pillows, my body bouncing as he manhandles me, his weight shifting the bed as he moves.
He’s treating me like an object, moving me into a position that pleases him, then he strips me of my bra.
I steady myself for him to do the same with my panties, but instead he crouches back, shoves my knees wide and just stares, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.
My insides clench in anticipation, my body charged with lust, unsure what he’s staring at.
The silence between us seems to quiet the whole room. My heartbeat and the first chords of the next song on my playlist fade into the background as the muscles of Dutch’s torso and shoulders ripple under the deep, connected artistry of ink, his insanely big cock standing tall like a missile ready to launch.
“Something wrong?” I finally manage after another endless few seconds of him staring between my legs. The muscles of my inner thighs quiver as embarrassment starts to take over, thinking he’s changed his mind. My horribly lackluster underwear is killing the vibe.
“Yeah,” he answers, my heart already feeling like it’s cracking open.
“What?” I mouth, barely able to choke the word from my dry throat as I tug my knees together.
“You’re soaking wet.”
I swallow hard, tensing as my thighs touch, hoping to hide the evidence that somehow feels humiliating. “Sorry. I can’t help—”
He swats my legs wide. “Keep those legs open and don’t be sorry. As long as you are wet for me. It’s just…I think I could stare at that wet spot forever. But, then I wouldn’t be doing what I really want to do. Taste you. Devour you.”
I swallow hard, the embarrassment washing away.
