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Fiona
“Ever sucked a cock before, princess?”
Boyd’s question echoes in my mind, bouncing off the walls of my brain, but I’m not really sure how to answer.
The simple way would be to lie, because the taunt in his voice tells me he isn’t expecting me to be experienced in this department. Or that he doesn’t want me to be.
But the deviant part of me is curious to see what he’ll do if I say yes.
My hands grip my thighs above the knees, my core throbbing in anticipation. Excitement twists around my DNA, coating each double helix in liquid heat as electricity zings through my veins. I can’t see him because of how dark it is, but I can feel him—his heat, his anger, his complete and utter rapture.
It washes over me in fiery waves, the appreciation that comes with being wanted, and I grab onto it before it slips past, letting it blot out the nerves fluttering inside me.
I want this. No matter how he tries to punish me, I won’t let him leave thinking this was all his doing.
I’ll take the sexual domination, revel in the way he coaxes my insecurities from my body for a brief time, but when the gloss of sweat and cum dries up and all I’m left with is me, I’m not going to let him think that he won.
Because that’s what this is—a power play. As anger, hurt, and secrets crackle between us, this dance we’re about to begin is a contest to see who breaks first. Who gives in.
And I’m so damn tired of being the first to shatter.
Fingers hook under my chin, yanking my face up. I can just barely make out the contours of his nose and lips and can see the slightest glow in his irises from where a single sliver of light spills through a crack in the door.
“When I ask a question, I expect a fucking answer.”
My mouth dries up at the command in his tone, the authority in it making my body temperature spike. One of his fingers curls into my bottom lip, rubbing roughly with the flat pad, probably smearing my lipstick just the way he likes.
“Yes,” I whisper, nerves flooding my system, making me dizzy.
He tsks, tapping his finger against me. “Good. Then this should be no problem for you.”
I wait for more instruction, my clit pulsing erratically, the darkness providing an extra element of danger to what we’re doing here. Anyone could waltz in and find us, especially given Kieran’s probably on his way and will wonder why we ditched our posts, but neither of us seems to mind the risk.
Maybe it’s because deep down, we know this is it.
“Take me out,” he says, pinching my bottom lip until it stings, a bruise likely forming where he touches. I move my arms up and take his undone jeans in my hands, but he bats me away with a dissatisfied grunt. “No hands. Take me out with your mouth.”
“I don’t think I can—”
“Did I ask what you thought? No. In fact, the time for chatting is long over. Take my cock out with your mouth or I’ll add to your punishment.”
For a moment, I stare at the dark blob of him, confused as to how I’m supposed to maneuver this. I consider the times I’ve wrangled a maraschino cherry out of a milkshake with just my tongue and resolve to approach it similarly.
“Hands behind your back, so I know you’re not cheating.”
My chest feels tight as I lock my arms behind me, leaning forward to brush against his pants with my nose, trying to find an opening. The zipper slides against me as I move, and I bump up against his bulge, gasping slightly at the contact.
He’s not wearing underwear.
Even though technically, Boyd’s dick has been inside of me, and I’ve seen it, stroked it once or twice, this is entirely new territory. The other times with us seemed to have been focused on me and my pleasure, and now—it’s all about him.
A sense of power surges through me, the desire to do a good job—nay, to blow him out of the fucking water—rising like a high tide inside me, and I bite down on the zipper, pulling with my teeth until I feel the pants give way and slip to his knees.
Still, I can’t see him, so I flatten my tongue and lean forward, licking up the front of his thigh and inching inward. The shudder that racks his body covers me in goose bumps, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face at how hard up he is already.
“Make it sloppy, princess.” One hand comes up, petting my hair and cupping the back of my head while the other guides me to him, bumping the crown of his cock against my upper lip and stroking the pierced underside over my tongue. “This is all the lube you’re gonna get.”
My mouth opens to ask what exactly he means, but then he’s shoving himself to the back of my throat, cutting me off; I retch instantly, bile burning the base of my throat as his piercing scrapes against me, and he lets out a strangled groan.
