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The power, the control, the feeling of him under my thumb.
And the intimacy too—
The generosity of it—
Everything.
I tease him with a few flicks of my tongue.
Then I find the pressure he needs, the pattern.
He presses his palm into the back of my head, guiding me over his cock.
He brings his other hand to my breast. Toys with me as I take him.
Again and again.
That perfect cycle of his need and my desire.
He pushes a little harder.
Lifts his hips.
Groans way too loudly for the setting.
But that only winds me tighter, urges me further.
I move faster, harder.
He holds me right where he needs me.
Then he's there, groaning my name as he comes in my mouth.
I wait until he's spills every drop, then I swallow hard. I rise. I check our surroundings.
No one here.
No one saw.
Or they didn't care.
I start to right my shirt, but he shakes his head.
"Keep it that way." He does the button of the blazer, covering me, but just barely.
It's obvious I'm halfway out of my clothes under here.
And it's incredibly, painfully hot.
"You ready to go?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I have to finish my drink."
"No way, baby. You don't get off that easy." He fixes his jeans, pulls me into his lap, slides his hand under my jacket. "We can stay as long as you want."
"Yeah?"
"But I'm going to do this the entire time." He cups my breast and toys with my nipple. "I'm going to wind you so tight you burst."
