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But maybe that’s because Andre wasn’t the one pulling out his dick.
It’s thick and long, with smooth skin stretched so tight it seems like it would be painful. His skin here is almost satiny, and just slightly darker than the rich bronze of his Mediterranean complexion.
I never considered dicks attractive, but somehow his is.
Attractive enough I don’t hate the idea of putting it in my mouth.
So that’s what I do. I lean in, moving fast before I can think too hard about it, and wrap my lips around the tip of him.
Andre hisses between his teeth, the sound reminding me that I’m supposed to be paying attention to him and not admiring his cock. I immediately lift my eyes, and my stomach flips at the sight in front of me.
Andre’s black gaze is hard where it fixes on me. His jaw is set tight, nostrils flared as he watches me swallow down as much of his length as I can.
I barely manage half, but that can’t be too bad for a first try.
I ease up, keeping my lips as tight as possible as I pull back, sliding completely free. A drop of slickness leaks from the tip, and I swirl my tongue around it before sinking back down, relaxing as much as I can as I attempt to take in a little bit more.
I grip one palm at the base, using it as a guide. A way to gauge my progress.
Because even now, even during a moment like this, I can’t help but try to push myself to be better.
This time my lips bump my fingers easily, forcing me to move them so I can find my new limit.
I’m not sure what I expected giving a blowjob would be like, but I definitely didn’t anticipate the heady sense of power that comes when Andre’s hand laces into my hair, pulling tight as he groans.
I made him make that sound.
The realization sends heat through my insides, and it races to pool between my thighs.
Andre’s other hand lifts to my face, the tips of his fingers tracing where my lips are stretched around him. “Can you take more, Duchess?”
Can I?
I suck in air before sliding down again, my mouth gliding over his wet skin until the end of him bumps the back of my throat, forcing me to stop.
Andre makes a rough sound in his chest, almost a growl, as he leans toward me, his black, black eyes pinning me in place. “Good girls gag, Duchess.”
It’s nothing I would have ever expected a man to say to me.
Because of course it’s not true.
Not that it matters, because my reign as a good girl ended when I walked on stage tonight.
So if he wants me to gag, then I’ll gag.
My mouth slicks over him again with a wet sounding glide, but this time I push past the point of comfort, forcing my muscles to relax as they fight my body’s response to the thick line of his cock invading my throat. I gag a little and sink deeper, losing the ability to breathe as my eyes water. I blink at the tears because I need to see his face.
Need to see his reaction.
I can’t look away from the vein bulging down the side of his neck. From the line creased between his black brows. From the twitch in his jaw. From the way his whole body is tense and tight, just waiting to snap.
And I’m the one who will pull the trigger.
I hold my position as long as I can before pulling away.
Then I do it again, repeating the gag and relax so I can take almost all of him. I no longer need my hand to gauge my progress, it would only get in my way, so I grip the opening of his pants, using them for leverage as I rock, moving my whole body each time I sink over him.
“Good girl.” Andre’s deep voice is rough. “Open up that pretty throat for me.”
