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"Did you sniff me?" she cries.
"And now, I’m going to lick you and suck on your clit. Then, I’m going to gather your cum and uses it to lubricate you before I fuck your arse."
"No." She tries to shuffle away, but I squeeze her hip and hold her in place. Then I lick her from slit to blackhole.
She moans, "Oh my god."
"You mean, 'oh, Rick,' don’t you? Also, my cock isn't gonna suck itself, so chop-chop."
I stab my tongue inside her channel, and she pants. I rub on the swollen nub between her pussy lips, and her entire body jerks.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she whimpers.
I slap her pussy, and she cries out. "You bastard."
"The only name I want from your lips is mine, and don’t you forget it."
"You’re a jerk."
"And if you don’t jerk me off right fucking now, I’ll—" My breath catches, for she’s closed her mouth around my dick. She digs her fingernails into my thighs hard enough to leave marks, and fuck, if that doesn’t turn me on more. I circle her clit with my tongue, while she begins to lick me from crown to balls again and again. Then she clamps her lips around my dick and swallows.
A line of fire zips up my spine. My head spins. I groan into her pussy, draw in more of that heady essence of hers, and a primal need fills me—to fuck her, to take her, to make her mine, to… stamp her pussy with the indelible impression of my cock, to imprint the heat of my breath on her skin, the feel of my fingers on her tits, to carve my thoughts into her mind, etch my name into her soul, to fuse our skins so we become one, even if it’s only for an instant, and ensure she’ll never forget me.She’ll never forgive you, either.My heart squeezes.And isn’t that what you wanted?
She bobs her head, and I glance down in time to see my dick disappear inside her mouth. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Then she deep throats me, and all thoughts disappear from my mind. I grab her hips, bring her even closer, and begin to eat her out with renewed vigor. She gasps around my dick, and my balls draw up. I will not come, not until I’ve taken her to the edge. I attack her pussy like it’s the puck I’m after on the ice.
I stab my tongue inside her melting channel, then flick her clit. Her body jolts, and when she bites down on my shaft, the shockwaves spark a chain reaction that ignites all of my brain cells.
Sweat beads my shoulders, and I rub on her clit, then curl my tongue inside her, and the shudders that grip her body multiply. Moisture bathes my mouth and drips down my chin. I release my hold on her, reach across, and grab her hair. I tug on it, and when she looks at me, I growl, "I’m going to fuck your mouth."
55
Gio
That’s all the warning I get. He holds my hips to pin me in place, then pistons his hips forward. His dick plunges down my throat. I gag, and tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes. He pulls back, I gasp for air, and drool dribbles down my chin. It mirrors the glistening moisture on his unshaven one. I have no doubt that’s my cum, and it turns me on more. That, and the fact he’s using me as a receptacle to give him pleasure.
My sole focus in life is boiled down to how I relax my jaw and stop fighting the singular reality that I am meant to satisfy him. I am his to use as he pleases, to fulfill his urges, to gratify his need for control, to serve his urge to dominate, to slake his hunger, his urge to take revenge. He’s so single-minded, so driven to cause me pain that’s on the verge of pleasure when he fucks me. It’s as if he can’t stop himself from taking me into the pleasure zone, but would rather use sex to cause me pain. As if he’s punishing me. But for what? It’s not like he wants revenge…does he? I’ve done nothing to make him feel this way…have I?
He must sense my thoughts, for his movements grow more frantic. I dig my fingernails into the backs of his thighs and hold on; and when his cock thickens down my throat, I know he’s close, so close. That’s when he releases me and pulls out.
In the same move, he flips me over so I’m on my back and face-to-face with him.
Without breaking the connection, he plants himself between my thighs. Then, he reaches down, scoops the moisture from around my slit and smears it around my back-hole. I flinch, but don’t look away.
"Do you want me to stop?" He peers between my eyes. "Say the word and I will, I promise."
He’s giving me a choice, and that makes it worse. Andthatconfuses me further. He reads the confusion on my face and lowers his, until I can make out the individual silver sparks in that icy expanse of his eyes. "You’ll always have a choice with me; the power is in your hands."
"I thought you were the one in charge of our relationship."
"I lost control the moment I saw you talking to yourself the first time."
I flush. "You saw me talking to myself?" It’s a bad habit. A way to self-soothe I’ve never gotten over, but which I hope I’ve managed to hide from the world—Not from him, though.
"The first time I saw you walking to your car in L.A. You were on your own and didn’t think anyone was watching."
"But you were?"
He nods. "I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. You’ve burrowed under my skin, and there’s no way I can get rid of you." His eyebrows draw down.
