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Oh God, yes.
I can feel how wet I am already. I reach for his cock again and he grabs my wrist. This time his grip is like iron, tightening until it’s almost painful, but the discomfort does nothing to dampen my desire.
His beautiful face is all cold, hard lines and precise curves. He’s so handsome I could cry, and the harder he is, the more I break down. “Manners,” he says, his voice all the reprimand I need.
“Please,” I whisper, leaning in and trying to kiss him.
He slams me back against the wall again. The heat in my body feels like it’ll incinerate my skin. I want to take my clothes off just to cool down, but then he grips me by the throat and says, “Good girl. Now, get on your knees.”
Desire pours straight through me. I’ve never sunk to my knees so fast.
His hand is in my hair, part caress, part threat that if he feels like it, he can take it away again, so I’d better behave.
I tug down his zipper and pull down his jeans. His cock springs free and I grab it gently, closing my fingers around the thick, veined column. God, it’s beautiful. I lick my lips and lean in to taste him, but before I can make contact, he fists a hand in my hair and yanks me back so I have to look up at him.
He looks larger than life from down here. A god among mortals with his cock out, mere inches from my face.
“You want me to use you, pretty girl?”
My pussy clenches with need. I didn’t think I wanted that, but I find myself nodding.
“Yeah?” His voice is gentle and taunting at the same time. “You want me to shove my cock in that pretty little mouth and use you so hard you cry, don’t you?”
I shift, feeling so much wetness between my legs, I’m afraid it’ll seep through the fabric of my jeans.
I’m about to tell him yes, but suddenly my pounding heart comes to a screeching halt when the door handle jiggles.
I stop breathing, my startled gaze darting to the door.
From the other side I hear a muffled, “Are you okay in there?”
Jet.
His voice is like a bucket of much-needed ice water dumped over my head. Scrambling to get to my feet, I look around, panicked. Milo’s mouth is about to open, so I quickly clap my hand over it to shut him up.
“Yep!” I call back, my voice a bit shrill.
“You sure?” Jet calls through the door. “I heard a noise. It sounded like somebody bumped into something.”
“Oh, yeah. That was me. I…” I look around. “I tripped! On the rug.”
Milo’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he peels my hand off his face and mouths, “You tripped on the rug?”
“Shut up,” I mouth back. Then to Jet I say, “I’m fine, though. Just a clumsy moment. Nothing to worry about. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, his voice lowering in a way that makes me think he doesn’t have much confidence in my story. “Have you seen my dad? I thought he was in the kitchen, but I can’t find him anywhere.”
Milo is silently laughing his ass off as I scramble red-faced for an answer. “I… No. He’s not in here!”
Jet pauses.
Milo leans against the wall and covers his face to muffle his quiet laughter.
“I didn’t think he was in there,” Jet finally says.
“Right. Of course you didn’t. That would be… Why would he be in here?” I slam my palm against my forehead and close my eyes. “I’ll be right out, okay?”
“All right. Sorry to bother you,” he says.
