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His strong hands held her down much longer this time, and instinctively, she brought her arms around, pushing gently at his thighs, the panic rising as she struggled.
“No.” He squeezed her throat, giving her head a tiny admonishing shake by the grip upon her hair. “Let go. Give in to it.”
He withdrew altogether then, the swollen, slick head of his cock dripping with her saliva, bobbing against her cheek.
Her voice was a rasp. “I… I’m sorry…”
“I’ll teach you, sweetie.”
Her heart thrilled at the word, at once shocking, and yet lovely, and even a little confusing.
His hand about her throat softened, caressing her, stroking her jaw. “You tried very hard, and that’s what counts right now. I want you to suck it now. As hard as you can. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded with an eagerness she couldn’t quite anatomize. Maybe later, when she was all alone with her thoughts and her memories, steeping in her shame and arousal—delicious, both—she could replay what was happening, make some sort of sense of the emotions swirling within her at that moment.
Taking the broad head of his cock into her mouth once more, she drew upon the hot, throbbing shaft feverishly, savoring the feel of those swollen veins against her lips and tongue. She cupped his heavy testicles, giving them gentle squeezes as his thrusts within the tight clutch of her lips grew faster and faster.
“I had no idea… your mouth… was this good,” he growled above her, his breath growing more labored. He took firmer hold of her hair again, using it to control the depth of his thrusts.
She wanted to smile. She wanted to blush. She wanted to brag, to tell him he had no idea.
But all she really wanted to do at that moment in time, was to make him feel good, to please him.
This male who’d been center stage in her fantasies—and now, maybe her heart, too.
His penis swelled still more, and just in time, as her lips were beginning to numb, her jaw tiring. This was yet another way he differed, his ability to hold back, to draw out the act, to make her work for his orgasm.
She loved that, too.
“I’m… I’m gonna come!” he said, voice tight, his grip around her throat—and his fingers in her hair—harsh, almost painful. He lunged harder, a last flurry of strokes, the head of his cock probing deep each time, making her cough and whimper, even as she strived to open for him, to be good, to serve him with her mouth.
It was that deepest need, what appealed to her most of all in sucking a guy’s cock, that profound and secret desire to be a vessel, a thing, his possession—if only in the moment—used to satisfy his base, animal lusts.
But he had other plans.
His penis pulled out of her mouth abruptly, his firm hold on her hair keeping her in place, his other hand pumping up and down his rigid length, the wet, squelching of his grip making her mouth water, a line of saliva already dripping down her chin.
He stared at her bared breasts. “Hold them up. Higher!”
She obeyed, almost without thinking, cupping them and lifting them toward him. “Max… no… I want to taste—”
“Quiet. Do as you’re told. Present those tits.”
When she gave him her most forlorn, pleasing look she could muster, his lips curled, nostrils flaring. “Eyes down. On my cock.”
Fuck!
She had no inkling he’d be this demanding, this stern. Dominant.
It was yet another thing she craved in a man, though she really only had experience with it in her fantasies—and in the many dirty books she’d read over the years.
But the last thing she was going to do was to disappoint him, not in that moment. Maybe she’d complain to him later. She so wanted to taste his cum, curious as to what exactly his flavor would be.
She pressed her breasts together, hoisting them higher, as if they were an offering to Max.
Though her cheeks burned hot at this objectification, a part of her reveled in it, too, that he liked her breasts that much. She hoped he would—she’d never had a man before who didn’t profess to loving them.
Max wasn’t just some dude, though.
