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Maybe I should bristle at his tone, at the command in his voice, at the look on his face that says he expects me to do exactly as he's said. Maybe I shouldn't be so turned on by it all. But I am.
Heat rushes to my pussy as I look him over, cock erect and waiting for me, his arms lazily resting on the arms of the chair, the tip of his tongue sweeping across his top lip.
"Should I make a rule about you doing what I tell you to the first time I say it?" he asks.
I swallow and shake my head. My heels are muffled by the carpet as I begin walking toward him. His eyes devour me the entire time, making me extremely aware of everywhere he looks. My breasts, my stomach, my pussy, my heels. Back to my pussy, where they stay as I get closer to him. Then I'm between his legs and his eyes come to mine again, following me down as I drop to my knees.
I lean forward, running my hands up his thighs, loving the way I feel them jump under my palms. I lick the tip, moaning as the taste of his pre-cum coats my tongue. Then his groan mixes with my own sounds when I close my mouth around him, my lips struggling to fit around his girth. But I want all of him, so I take him in, and in, moving down on his cock until it hits the back of my throat. He hisses and I smile around him. I bob on him, moving my head up and down, sweeping my tongue from side to side.
Suddenly, I feel his hand on the back of my head, pushing me farther down. He holds me there as he arches into my mouth.
"Yeah, right there," he says huskily. Then he slowly brings my head back up, pushes it back down, his words making medesperate to get my hands between my thighs. "Is this how you imagined it? My cock filling your mouth, my hand in your hair, your nails digging into my thighs from how much sucking me off turns you on?"
I nod, tightening my mouth on him.
"Yes." He groans. "Suck me like you want my cum down your throat."
His hand moves my head faster until he holds me down as much as he can, his cock so deep in my mouth that my forehead touches his stomach.
"God, your mouth feels good," he breathes. "But I want more."
He brings my head up so fast, I'm almost dizzy when he tips it back to kiss me. His lips crash down on mine, his hold on my hair tilting my head to the side, angling my mouth until I'm where he wants me. His tongue doesn't peek out, seeking permission, it slides into my mouth, demanding that I give him what he wants. And he groans when I give it to him, meeting his tongue, circling it, arching my neck so I can get more of him.
His hand drifts from my hair, over my collarbone, down my chest, to my breast, and finally, mercifully to my nipple. I gasp when he pinches it between his fingers. His other hand comes up, palming the other breast, squeezing tight as he bites down on my bottom lip, pulling away.
"On the bed," he pants.
I like knowing our kiss left him as breathless as I am. My lips feel swollen, raw, tingly, and already in need of having his mouth on mine again. But other parts of me are swollen too, and I stand with them in mind. I can feel wetness coating my thighs as I walk to the bed. His eyes are like a brand on my ass as I go. When I reach the bed, I turn around, and sure enough he's looking atme, his hand stroking his cock. I sit on the end of the bed, crawl backwards so I can watch him watching me. When I reach the headboard, I widen my legs, making him smirk as he stands.
My clit throbs as he comes toward me, stopping at the table to get a condom off of it. He rolls it down his length, and then, God, just his knee hitting the bed has my breath hitching. What is this man doing to me that the smallest things he does make me want to beg for him to touch me, to kiss me, to hurry up and fuck me?
He crawls up the bed, widening my legs even more so he can fit between them. There’s a pain of bite, but it only turns me on more. He leans over me, bringing his mouth to my ear, biting my earlobe.
"Remember," he says as his hand drifts down my body, over my swollen clit, just the soft touch of the back of his hand making my stomach clench. “Don’t hide any of the pleasure I’m giving to you. I want to hear you screaming my name.”
"You have to earn that." I shoot back, as if my words have any truth to them. As if just the feeling of him positioning himself at my opening doesn't have me already hurdling toward an orgasm. The pressure of the tip alone has me stretching, but he doesn't go any farther.
He backs up, his brow arching, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Do you doubt that I will?"
"Just waiting for you to prove it."
"Well, let me not keep you waiting then. I just have one question. Have you decided yet?"
"Decided what?" I ask, trying to push through the lust clouding my mind to concentrate on his words instead of the need thrumming through my body.
"If you want me to treat you like a whore?"
The word stops all my other thoughts as I stare up at him. Do I? What would that mean? But even as I contemplate his question, my pussy tightens. He must be able to feel it because he gives me a cocky, knowing smile.
"Answer me," he demands, thrusting just a little farther into me, making me arch forward to meet him. But he refuses to give me what I want just yet. Apparently, he needs an answer to his question first. But I'm not quite done with this game yet, of figuring out what I want to be when I'm in a hotel room with this man. Of finding out what he wants me to be with him.
"What are the options?" I ask, my voice low and playful. "A whore or what?"
"Or I can treat you like a slut."
"Those sound awfully similar. What's the difference?"
"One will have me fucking you a lot rougher."
