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“Just fuck me?” I begged, running my fingers along the inside of his wrist. “Wait. I was supposed to wait until you teased me. You were going to do that, right?” I leaned back a little as he’d gotten so close. When did he get so close? I grazed my fingers over his black tee. “You’re not dressed for a party.”
“Because I wasn’t at the party, Sylvie.”
“Oh. Were you doing...um?” I licked my lips, noting his eyes tracking the movement and did it again, slower. His gaze changed with that tempo, too. “Who’s leading here?”
He shook his head, laughing darkly. “Fucked if I know.”
“Are you offended?”
“About?”
“That I want to fuck you?”
“I want you to–” He broke off, his face hardening and his grip on my elbow tightened. “You want dirty, Sylvie? Filthy? Then I hope to fuck you know how to swallow.”
His hand pressed to the top of my head, applying pressure. My knees bent all too willingly, and hit the gravel below. I knew I’d feel it tomorrow, but right now I didn’t care. I’d become that desperate, that needy for his attention I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to, and that simply wasn’t happening.
Beau’s palm curved around my cheek until he cupped my chin and held me there. “Mouth open. That’s it, Sylvie. Tongue out. Beautiful.” He worked the fly on his jeans one-handed until his cock was in his hand and he rubbed it over my lips. “Suck me.”
I obliged, leaning forward when he fed his length into my waiting mouth, closing my lips around him. I’d never been one to watch a man when I sucked him off, more inclined to get the job done, but my eyes were glued to his face as I took him to the back of my throat, hollowing my cheeks and watching his head drop back. The guttural groan that ripped from him was too much.
I spread my knees on the gravel, aware of a tearing sensation as my fingers dropped between my thighs and I rubbed at the front of my panties. My tongue caressed his underside as I worked my mouth along his length, taking perverse pleasure in the way he thickened, hardening, the sounds I drew from him. When his head dropped forward to watch me, his fingers tightened in my hair, guiding my rhythm a little faster, a little rougher.
“Now you want rough,” I mumbled around a mouthful of cock.
He smiled humorlessly. “Pull your panties aside. Three fingers, Sylvie. Come as much as you like. Because after tonight, you won’t have control of that again.”
I moaned, sucking harder and pushed three fingers straight inside my pussy like he asked, tilting my hips forward and opening wider.
“Beautiful view. So beautiful.” He gripped my hair tighter but otherwise didn’t force me, his spare hand caressing my cheek when I took him deeper, lightly constricting my throat with him embedded deep inside me. “Come, Sylvie.” A note of urgency entered his voice. “Come, and be loud. Be my whore tonight. Tomorrow you’ll be something else.”
I didn’t stop to interpret his cryptic words, sucking harder and faster under his guidance, rocking my hips forward as my hand thrust hard, almost bruising myself.
The moment his cock pulsed in my throat I came, as though knowing I could get Beau Bennet off was what drove me. Not in front of everyone else, though I was still somehow desperate and pathetic for his attention. I loved I had that power over him.
My pussy pulsed in time as I screamed around his cock. Beau pressed my head down onto him all the way until my nose touched his belly, coming down my throat with a low hiss that lit my insides on fire. Then my lungs, as the air in them evaporated. I came a second time, barely touching myself, and he held me there, airless until the pulses from us both stopped.
When he let me up, I was panting and tears ran down my cheeks from lack of oxygen. My lungs were grateful as I sucked in air. Beau slid his fingertip across the corners of my mouth, feeding me the drops of his seed that escaped, trailing to my chin, mingling with my tears. The salty mixture coated my tongue as I lapped at his fingers and he petted me with that same fervent look of utter adoration.
Never again, my fucking ass.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, over again. “So beautiful, Sylvie.” He scooped me up in his arms, careful to tuck my short dress beneath my legs, and carried me back to the frat house.
I buried my head in his shoulder, but he put me down, swiping what I was sure was ruined makeup. Blessedly, without making me talk to anyone, he led me up the stairs and all the way to the farthest end of the darkened corridor, into a bedroom I guessed was his, and locked the door behind us.
