AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I roll my hips, the movement a little awkward feeling with my inexperience.
“You’re getting there.”
He lifts his arms when I tug at the hem of his shirt, not wasting a second to press my skin to his. The light smattering of chest hair he has brushes my nipples, and it sends an urgency I’ve never felt before up my spine.
His hands fall to my ass, taking a handful and urging another roll from my hips.
His erection rubs against me, still confined by his jeans, and it just won’t do.
I reach lower, whimpering with need when I bump my pussy as I try to unbutton and unzip his pants.
He helps, a simple lift of his hips when I slide off of him and try to drag the denim down his legs.
I don’t bother with his boots. Once I run my cheek up his leaking cock, he doesn’t seem very concerned at all that his clothes are tangled around his calves.
“Mads,” he says, taking a handful of my damp hair in his hands as I drop to my knees.
He doesn’t try to stop me, doesn’t tell me that he doesn’t need what I’m offering.
I like that about him more than I can say. He isn’t fucking fake, and despite what has happened to me, he isn’t going to lie and tell me he doesn’t want it. Every man wants every blow job offered to them. Some may turn them down, some may explain the fact away, but it doesn’t make it less true.
He hisses when I lick the tip of him, the taste of his precum igniting my tastebuds.
He pulls me off, his grip on my hair tight and stinging, yet somehow nothing like the way it’s hurt me in the past. I meet his eyes, staring into their darkness as if they’re a place for comfort not pain.
“Slowly,” he growls.
I nod my head in understanding, only dropping my mouth back down when he loosens his grip enough to allow it.
It’s a warning. It’s him letting me know he’s not here to hurt me, but he’s also not giving up his own power.
I double my effort, letting the salty warmth of his skin glide along my tongue. His thighs under my hands tremble, betraying this calm demeanor he’s trying to convince me he has, as if this blow job is no different to any of the other lackluster ones he may have received before.
It’s different for me, the first one I’ve given freely, willingly.
I swallow, my throat constricting around the head, but instead of trying to press further, to reach deeper parts of me, he pulls me off, his breaths making his muscled chest rise and fall erratically.
“You’re not sucking me off tonight, Mads.”
Mads… I freaking love his nickname for me. It speaks of a connection, of familiarity.
“Take my fucking boots and jeans off.”
His release of my hair is a relief physically, but I scramble to do as he instructs because I’m desperate, in need of another connection from him.
It doesn’t take long to pull the wad of clothing around his calves from his body, both of us ignoring what has to be Rocco’s blood on them.
He doesn’t urge me closer, doesn’t pull my mouth back on his cock. He stands, forcing me to look up at him from my knees. The way he traces my face, looking reverent and grateful for a long moment, feels both familiar and not at the same time. It reads as forced but perfect as well.
My heart pounds, the rhythm of it dictating my breathing, another thing I’m experiencing that fluctuates with his every move.
“I’m not going to stop,” he says, urging me to stand.
I press into him once I’m on my feet, his huge hand immediately grabbing my ass, his erection stiff and leaking against my stomach, leaving behind a trail of wetness on my skin.
The man is virile, huge, and I know I should be scared about what happens. Just the pain should make me want to run from the room, but I’m locked in place by need and nothing else.
It feels dangerous what we’re doing, but it also feels like a choice, as if I really pumped the brakes on this, the night could end much differently than the direction we’re heading right now.
I don’t want different.
I don’t want soft.
I don’t want him whispering that I’ll be fine in my ear as he slowly takes the only part left of me to give.
He has to know it’s been his.
Maybe he knew long before I knew it belonged to him.
I’m tired of waiting.
I’m so fucking glad he is too.
“I’m not going to stop once I get started,” he repeats.
“Okay,” I agree.
“I’ll fucking marry you tomorrow if it’s what you want, but this is happening tonight.”
I nod, knowing it won’t go over well to tell him my virginity is something Alessio put a value on, not me. I’ve held on to it for my own safety after my dad made his vow, not because it was some spectacular thing that really meant something.
