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“Please,” she said, with no hesitation. “Please, Dylan. I want it.”
“You want what?”
She gasped a little, but she couldn’t have said if it was her breath tangling in her throat or the sudden understanding of what it was he wanted her to say. And she didn’t care. She could picture what she looked like, kneeling here on his floor, her head pulled back with his faintly cruel hand in a fist there. And his cock close, but not close enough.
Jenny pictured it, and she didn’t understand how that could make her clit ache, but it did. Oh, how it did.
She shifted, trying to get her thighs closer together to give herself some relief. And was somehow not surprised at all when Dylan stopped her, putting his foot between her knees and holding her legs apart.
“You come when I let you come,” he told her. “I thought you understood.”
“Please, Dylan,” she heard herself say again, more frantic this time. It was no longer clear to her what she was begging for, only that he needed to give it to her. Whatever it was.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, all dark command.
“I want you to fuck my mouth.” Jenny felt her nipples get even harder at that. Just as her pussy felt soaked. And her clit pulsed with a need like pain, but better. Much better. “Make me come, Dylan. Please.”
“You’ve come a thousand times, by any estimate.” As he spoke, he wrapped his own big hand around his cock, then worked it, and it was an agonizing thing to watch. And not only because it was so like that image she’d had of him doing precisely this. “What makes you think you deserve more?”
“Please,”she begged him.
His eyes no longer looked green at all. They were black and fierce, and she was all fire and flutter, and she made a sobbing sound she didn’t recognize.
Then she didn’t care what she sounded like, because he was pressing his cock between her lips at last.
She half expected him to thrust in deep, the way he had earlier, but he didn’t.
He wasn’t gentle, exactly, but he started slow. He let her taste him. He made a rumbling sound of approval when she used her tongue, teasing that ridge that separated the head from the shaft, then taking him in deeper.
And it was different. It was wildly different from anything she’d ever known, and she couldn’t understand why. But her clit kept pulsing, she was soaking wet and as he moved, his thighs brushed against her breasts. That sent delicious spirals of pure sensation arrowing through her. Once again, there was moisture in the corners of her eyes, as her mouth stretched wide to take as much of him as she could.
He used his grip in her hair to guide her, or to hold her still. Whatever he wished. He surged into her, backing off if he went too far, but then—once he knew how far he could go—he did exactly what she’d asked him to do.
And fucked her mouth.
It was a lit match, then a wildfire. It was an ecstatic, glorious thing, so much sensation crashing over her and through her that she almost felt skinless. There was his dark gaze. The implacable wall of his gorgeous body. His hard hand in her hair and the other at her jaw.
There was the ferocity on his face, and in between all of that, part of it and because of it, there was her.
And that was it, she understood as she tipped herself over and gave herself up entirely into his hands. Less a surrender than a becoming.
She wanted to taste him, and she got that, raw and real.
And when he gave a shout and flooded her mouth, she felt her own body convulse, and realized she’d pressed her greedy pussy against his leg. And the sheer joy of tasting him, that intense punch of salt and man, made it go on and on.
He pulled her off his cock, and for moment he stared down at her, his chest heaving.
And she thought she recognized him at last, in that wild expression he aimed at her—
But something in her shied away from naming it.
And then he was lifting her up, hauling her into his arms again, then carrying her into his en suite. He set her down in his shower that was three sides glass, and when he turned the water on it was as if they were standing in the Tasman Sea itself.
The water beat over her, she found herself speechless as she slumped there against the wall, watching him.
She’d had a mouthful of Dylan. And that thought was so wrong and so perfect at the same time that it almost sent her over that edge again.
And maybe she’d made some kind of sound, because he looked over then, and she understood in a flash why it was that sucking Dylan’s cock—a sentence she never would have allowed herself to think before in all her life—was so different. She couldn’t remember ever doing something like it before.
