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She did, and he bent down, worked the jeans off her hips along with her underwear.
He tossed the jeans aside, and she waited for him to kneel between her thighs.
Instead, he unfastened his own pants and removed his cock. An answering surge of wetness flooded her pussy at the sight of it, heavy and thick, hard and ready for her.
“Suck my cock.”
She looked up at him, but his expression was hidden in shadow. “And if I say no?”
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “To say no?”
Her body screamed its denial. She didn’t want to say no. Didn’t want to deny him — to deny herself — anything. She wanted his cock inside her pussy, inside her mouth, inside her ass.
She wanted him everywhere. Anywhere she could have him.
The humiliation of it might have undone her if it hadn’t been crowded out by the lust galloping through her veins.
“No,” she said.
“Then suck,” he ordered.
She leaned forward, opening her thighs to give him a view. Why make it easy on him? He wasn’t the only one with weapons at his disposal.
She saw him home in on the view between her legs, then glance up at the ceiling as if for strength.
At least she wasn’t the only one suffering.
She wrapped her hands around the base of his cock, marveling at the size of him, the way his cock dwarfed her hand.
She stroked him and leaned in, flicking her tongue against his tip. He twitched as she circled it, then sucked in a breath when she closed her mouth around his crown.
She worked the base of his shaft and lowered her mouth onto him until he hit the back of her throat.
His hands slid into her hair and tightened around the roots. The pain of it warred with pleasure, and she moaned around his cock as she grew wetter still.
She dragged her mouth up over his cock, still stroking his base, and felt a surge of triumph when he groaned.
“Fuck, Kira…”
She moved her mouth on him faster, relishing the way he grew longer and harder in her hand, the way he throbbed between her lips when she sucked his thick head, moaning when she sank her mouth onto him again.
He held her head between his hands. “Stop.”
She looked up at him. “What if I don’t want to stop?”
He stared down at her, his eyes glittering in the dark. “What makes you think I care what you want?”
The words should have made her angry, should have made her hate him more than she already claimed to hate him.
(She didn’t. She didn’t.)
But they only made her wetter, only made her more desperate to feel his cock push into her.
She dropped her hand.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
She glared up at him. “No.”
