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It becomes my goal to make him come in my mouth, and the thought makes me take him in deeper.
“Fuck… Tillie,” he groans, his hips now thrusting against my mouth. “I should tell you to stop, but I’m not going to.”
I purr my approval as my hands cup his ass cheeks and pull him into me harder.
Coen’s fingers tighten in my hair, his breathing ragged. He curses and grunts, each sound hitting me square between my legs. I could do this forever for him, just to produce these reactions. It’s powerful and liberating to reduce such a strong man to dependency.
And he is dependent on me right now for the ultimate pleasure.
“I’m going to come,” he whispers harshly and then uses his grip on my hair to try to pull me off.
I make a sound of discontent, latch on harder, and shake my head.
“Christ.” Coen’s fingers once again tighten on my head for just a brief moment before his body locks tight, and he unloads on my tongue. I swallow, appreciating the tang and salt only because it’s Coen.
Relishing his long groan of satisfaction.
Marveling at the tender way he strokes my cheek as I stare up at him with his cock still in my mouth.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says softly.
His hand goes to my hair, and he pulls upward, indicating he wants me to stand. He slips out of my mouth, and I rise.
Coen’s eyes hold mine, and I wonder if he’s going to get dressed and walk out like he did before.
To my surprise, he pulls me in for a deep kiss before murmuring against my mouth, “I like the taste of me on your tongue.”
I groan at such a wicked claim, and then shriek as he picks me up and tosses me on the bed. The tenderness is gone, and his expression is hot as he crawls up my body.
He hovers over me, hands pressed into the mattress by my head. “You messed up my plans,” he chides. “I wanted to wreck your pussy with my mouth, then fuck you from behind.”
A cramp of lust hits me so hard between my legs, I physically ache for him. “You still can,” I point out breathlessly.
“You wore me out,” he replies solemnly. “Not sure I have the strength.”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion and a tiny pang of regret. Did I mess up by taking the lead? By giving him pleasure?
Before I can mull that over, his arms are around me and he’s rolling both of us until he’s on his back and I’m on top of him, straddling his lower stomach. He grins at me. “Still going to wreck that pussy, but I’m going to have you do most of the work.”
“But… how—”
I yelp as his hands go to my hips and he hauls me up his body. Coen’s hands are on my ass, pushing me to straddle his face.
Heat flames through me as my hands brace on the headboard. Understanding blooms and I start to protest, but he holds me in place.
My head drops, and it’s almost too erotic to look down between my spread legs to see his face just below. His eyes shine, and he licks his lips.
I have no clue what to do.
Coen must sense that because he smiles again. “I want you to fuck yourself on my mouth.”
“Goddamn it, Coen.” I try to pull away from him, but he holds me still. “I can’t.”
He lifts his head so he can reach my clit with his tongue. He gives me a lick, and I shudder.
“I’m a kinky son of a bitch, Tillie. I’ve told you that before, but surely you figured that out the first time I had my mouth here.”
“I’ve just never…”
