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I can feel Malice shiver, and the muscles of his thighs tense up.
“Have you ever done this before?” he murmurs gruffly.
Yes, but never willingly.
That seems like too much to go into right now, and besides, I can’t even speak around the mouthful of his dick, so I just shake my head. I haven’t. Not in any way that counts. Aside from that awful experience with Nikolai, I’ve only done this once before, with a john of my mom’s. That memory isn’t a good one, so I push back the thoughts of how he tried to assault me before he got turned off by the sight of my scars.
I want this moment to supersede those memories. I want it to be the one that I’ll remember.
Because I chose this. I asked for this.
I crawled on my hands and knees for this.
And I want to make it good, even though I don’t exactly know what I’m doing.
Paying close attention to Malice’s reactions, I bob my head up and down slowly, sliding my lips over the first few inches of his thick shaft. There’s no way I’m going to be able to fit the whole thing in my mouth, so I take my time, paying attention to the head first, my hand still wrapped around the base.
The salty leak of his precum changes the taste of him, and it makes me remember something I heard one of the dancers talking about at Sapphire once. As saliva begins to slide down his cock, I swirl my tongue around the smooth head, dipping the tip of my tongue into the little slit at the top where the beads of precum gather.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
The quiet, strained sound goes straight to my head, inspiring me to work harder. I try to take more of him, sliding my lips down his shaft, letting drool spill from my mouth a bit to slick the way enough that it won’t be uncomfortable. The parts I can’t reach with my mouth, I tease with my hand, gliding it up and down slowly.
It feels a little awkward trying to get the right rhythm between my mouth and my hand, but I keep working at it, and surprisingly, it turns me on as well.
I never thought I’d enjoy something like this—being on my knees with a man’s cock in my mouth—but there’s something about it that makes my breasts ache and my clit throb.
“Use your tongue more,” Malice instructs after a moment.
My eyes dart up to look at his face. His brows are drawn tight, and his irises are a little hazy from pleasure, which makes pride flare in my chest. At least I’m doing something right.
I pull back enough that I can start licking the underside of his cock more, following the line of a heavy vein that cuts along his thick shaft.
Malice nods, his hips bucking up toward my face as his hands curl into fists on the armrests.
“Good,” he praises. “Just like that. You’re doing so fucking good.”
Every word that spills from his lips goes to my head, making me throw myself into it even more. I take him deeper until the head of his cock hits the back of my throat, making me choke a little.
I splutter around his dick but don’t pull off, breathing through it until I can get back to work, bobbing my head, careful of my teeth.
“Fuck,” Malice curses again. “I should’ve known you’d have a good mouth on you. And you learn quick. Take me deeper. Fit as much in as you can.”
It’s a daunting task with how big he is, and I’m worried about gagging again, but I do as he says.
I start slow, pulling back until just the head of him is still between my lips. Then I work my way down, letting more and more of that hard thickness fill my mouth and slide against my tongue.
I remember what he said about using my tongue more, so I do that, rubbing it along the pulsing vein, lapping at him while I take him as deep as I can.
My body heaves a bit when he hits the back of my throat, but I don’t choke this time. My nostrils flare with the urge to breathe, but I fight through it, holding Malice there as deep as I can before I slowly start to pull back up.
“Jesus, she’s a fucking natural.” Ransom’s voice floats up from behind me. “You’re driving him crazy, angel. Hell, you’re drivingmecrazy.”
My eyelids droop, my jaw starting to ache as I work my way up and down Malice’s cock, challenging myself to go deeper every time. Every time I slide up to the very tip of Malice’s length, I hear a quiet chorus of noises from the men, deep grunts and muffled sounds of approval.
Malice lets me follow my own impulses for a while, allowing me to experiment with the rhythm and tempo. When he speaks again, his voice is rough and strained.
“Take your pants off,” he growls out. “Let Ransom and Vic see your pretty pink pussy. Let them see how fucking wet you are.”
