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I shrieked into his hand, shuddering as one wave after another crashed over my body. Finally, his touch slowed and he eased out. His hand left my mouth. Fingers, wet with juices, met my lips.
“Suck,” he ordered.
I made a face. Not my thing. But seeing his pupils dilated with arousal, the black almost swallowing the pale water of his eyes, I flicked out my tongue for a try. I tasted tangy, salty, hot. A second finger joined the first, and I sucked more eagerly. A rush of pleasure came when he caressed my hair and whispered, “Good girl. Here’s another.”
At the satisfied smirk on his face, I pulled away. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“No?” He shook his head and rolled off the mattress, walking to the foot of the bed. “Will you look at this. Someone’s made a mess all over my sheets. That’s not what I’m paying you for.”
“Bastard,” I choked out. Before I could react, strong hands opened my thighs again. He stared at my pussy — swollen, pulsing, open to him.
“I take such good care of you, and look what you do.” His thumbs pressed into my thighs, tightening with his hypnotic murmur. “You’re not a good girl after all. I should have known, since you’re letting me screw you for money.”
“Why are you such a twisted fuck?”
Fingers peeled my folds apart. His restrained touch, his pale eyes staring between my legs, sent pulses of panicked arousal through my body.
“I hoped you could behave for me, Christina. Now I need to clean your pussy up, because you can’t control your slutty little desires.”
Suddenly, his head was between my legs and his mouth was on my pussy.
“Ohhhh—” I groaned, kicking. I’d only let one guy go down on me — my boyfriend freshman year, who’d been sweet and patient and gentle with my ticklishness. Patrick was none of those. He licked me hard, his hot tongue tugging at my sensitive flesh. His mouth moved all over my pussy, sucking, pulling, making me cream more.
“You dick.” I tried to grab his hair, but it was too short to hold onto. I clutched at his neck.
He lifted his head. “You don’t like it, but you want it.” His cold whisper slid over me. “You don’t like being my whore, but you want to be.”
I scratched his neck as hard as I could. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
“That’s what you are.” He blew air over my clit. I moaned, naked, wet, exposed and desperate for release. “We’re not going to lie about it. There’s no lying in this room, Christina.” He licked a slow line up my pussy. “Understand?”
“Yes,” I gritted.
Pressure at my entrance drove the breath out of me. His tongue pushed into my pussy, sore from his thrusting fingers. Wriggling, licking up my juices, stinging and soothing me at the same time. Fingers surrounded my clit, pinching it ruthlessly.
I was going to come again. Helpless, trapped under his hands and mouth. This was what he meant about coming all night long.
Sensations melted and fused. As I shook, awareness shot back in: hair plastered to my neck, Patrick’s mouth on my pussy. My crazy animal sounds, the metallic taste of blood where I’d bitten my tongue, the musky scents of date night perfume and sex.
“Patrick…” I pleaded.
He massaged my clit, holding my knees down with his elbows. His nostrils flared when he raised his head. The flash of wild beast made me shiver.
“You begged me to touch you, Christina. Why should I stop? Weren’t you so curious about coming all night long?”
My pussy flamed with heat. My legs shook. My hips bucked uncontrollably. My snarls scared me as I kept coming so much, so hard. Pleasure turned to pain while Patrick watched it all through narrowed eyes.
I was showing him everything.
I groped for the safe word. “Evergreen,” I gasped.
He instantly let go.
“You’re done?”
I nodded.
“Are you okay?”
