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“Hands behind your back,” he told her, softly.
“Behind my back?” She didn’t understand. “But then I can’t—”
“Use them. Or control a thing. I told you I was bossy.”
She couldn’t tell if it scared her or she liked the challenge of it. Or something in between. But it didn’t matter, because when he looked at her like that, with his cock so hard, she rather thought she would do anything he asked. Anything at all.
Jenny let go of his cock, though she didn’t want to. And she slid her hands behind her, lacing her fingers together. The position made her arch her back a bit, so her breasts jutted forward, and she saw the appreciative gleam in his eyes.
Worth it right there,she thought.
She liked it even better when he smiled. And Jenny liked it best of all when he tugged a bit on the hair he held in his fist while his other thumb tracked over her mouth.
Not entirely gently. Rude and rough, and it was like a coarse fire consumed her.
“I remember you and Erika trading stories about the dicks you’ve sucked.” There was a faint, dull ache from how tight he held her hair and that drugging glory of his rough thumb against her lips. “She always loved sex, and we know you didn’t, but both of you wielded blowjobs like weapons.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Exactly.”
His thumb pressed over her lips, silencing her.
“I’ve spent years wondering what it must have been like to be one of those undeserving gobshites, too bleeding stupid to realize you were literally leading them around by the cock.” His head tilted slightly to one side as he regarded her, and her stomach quivered. “Is that what you think will happen here? You’ll suck me off and reduce me to a blithering mess like all the rest of them? Prepared to follow you to the ends of the earth, desperate for one more lukewarm touch?”
But his thumb was over her mouth, so she couldn’t answer. And that was just as well, because she didn’t know what she would say. Because he had always talked about her sad love life as if she had all the power when Jenny hadn’t exactly seen it that way.
Though tonight she had only the driving need to taste him. That made a stark difference from how she’d treated getting a man off in the past, admittedly.
Men are easy,Erika had declared long ago, dancing with a bottle from the off-license in the street, just begging for trouble.All you need to do is gaze up at them, beg them for their cock and they’re yours.
Jenny had never done it because she’d found men easy. She’d done it because they were complicated, and wanted things from her she’d had no intention of giving. And because sometimes sex itself didn’t do the trick.
Men were visual—wasn’t that what everyone always said? They liked a girl kneeling in front of them, or crawling down the length of them on a bed. Until tonight, she’d never really understood the appeal of oral sex. Personally.
She did now.
Back then, however, she remembered giggling wildly with Erika as they’d shared their thoughts on how best to go about handling the boys who’d followed them around. Had they really admitted to that in front of Dylan?
But he was Dylan. He’d always been right there. She might have said anything at all.
“Keep your hands behind your back,” he told her, another quiet command. “If you lift them up, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”
She nodded, and as she did, he worked his thumb between her lips. It was rude. Obvious. And even so, she sucked on him anyway, and her pussy clenched tight.
“Tell me, Jenny. How’s your gag reflex?” Dylan laughed, with his thumb against her tongue. “That gets you all wide-eyed, does it? I guess we’ll see.”
He pulled his thumb from her mouth and she felt herself sway, even though that shouldn’t have been possible. Not with him holding her like that. A fist in her hair, his cock huge and hard between them and that implacable look on his face.
He made it impossible to remember all the sharp and clever things she’d planned to say. All the ways she’d intended to make him laugh, and remember that she wasn’t just another one of his giddy, disposable girls.
But her mouth watered, because his cock was so beautiful, though she had never used that word to describe that part of a man’s anatomy before. It was different when it was Dylan. Or maybe because it was sobig.
“You can have it, Jenny,” he promised her, in that low, insinuating way of his. “You’ll have to beg me.”
And before she’d gotten on that plane, Jenny would have laughed at the idea that she would ever kneel before anyone and beg. For this or anything else. Even earlier tonight, as she’d waited for him by the opera house, she would have rolled her eyes if he’d sauntered up to her and predicted she would beg for the privilege of taking him in her mouth.
But he’d been right about that, too. She felt like a different person. Like a stranger to whoever that Jenny had been.
BecausethisJenny knew that if she didn’t get the chance to taste that cock, to feel him in her mouth, she would die.
