“Wait!” He sits up. “Don’t you wanna… I mean, I can touch you instead. Make you f-feel good.”
Shaking my head, I reply, “No. You first, then me. Let me take care of you, pretty boy. Making you feel good will make me feel good.”
Chapter Twenty
Bodhi King
Standing from the bed, Jules lets his briefs slide down his meaty thighs until they pool on the floor. He’s a sight to be seen, that’s for sure. He has a pretty large tattoo that takes up most of the space on his inner upper arm, but other than that, his body is free of ink. It’s a lion’s head inside of a triangle—half its face is realistic; the other half is geometrical. It looks really fucking cool.
He’s all cut muscle and sharp lines. It’s extremely obvious he takes very good care of his body. My eyes greedily take him in. Every inch of exposed flesh, right down to the deep Adonis belt, I’d like to trail my tongue along that leads to his impressive cock and balls. His dick—allmanyinches of it—is already rock hard, and I can’t help the groan that sounds from me when he wraps a large hand around it and strokes.
With his height, I figured he’d be packing, but Jesus. His balls are easily a handful—his handful, too, not my petite one—and I can tell how heavy they are just by how low they hang. His pubic hair is dark and trimmed short. My head feels dizzy with the barely contained desire to bury my face in his groin and breathe him in. Suffocate on his aroma.
Meeting his hungry gaze, my throat is dry—too fucking dry—and my chest squeezes tight. I’m so out of my element right now, it’s not even funny. Jules is gorgeous. He’s handsome, and sexy, and everything in between. The sight of him naked before me, in all his glory, is enough to make me want to cover myself. He’s a masterpiece.His dark eyes sear a hole into me as he drags his gaze over my body while climbing back on the bed and reaching for me. The featherlight touch on my skin from his thick, rough fingertips licks the flames of need burning deep inside.
This, what we’re about to do, isn’t something I’m new or unfamiliar with. Sleeping with men—wealthy, powerful, oftentimes much older men—is quite literally my job. But it usually plays out much differently than it is now. I’m not used to being the center of attention. It’s usually me undressing them, me getting down on my knees, me pleasuring them and getting them ready before they fuck me. I mean, sure, I get off sometimes, but it’s hardly ever a main event. It’s all aboutthem. Which, normally, is how I like it. I enjoy giving, I always have. The vulnerability that comes with receiving, with having all attention be focused on me, isn’t something I typically look forward to.
I don’t know how to handle the weight of his stare on me or the feeling of his hands dancing along my naked flesh. It’s overwhelming and intense. It’s foreign, and it makes me want to flee. Yet, despite how uncomfortable I am, there’s nothing that could make me leave this bed right now. Nothing that could make me want anything other than exactly what he’s doing to me.
His hot, wet tongue dips out, twirling around my crown, lapping up the pre-cum pooled at the slit before slipping below my foreskin and caressing the sensitive skin. My eyes, already heavy and hooded, roll back as pleasure overtakes my body. Trepidation paired with a raw, aching type of desire magnifies inside my veins as it vibrates through my body. Every flick of his tongue is an earthquake building inside me. By the time his lips close around my length, heat engulfing me, I’m so worked up, I feel like I could come already. Which is insane since my anti-depressants typically made it pretty hard for me to finish. I want to say it’s because the meds are finally out of my system now, and something else entirely is coursing through my veins, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’shim.
My fingers find his perfectly styled hair, threading through the strands and mussing up the perfection. The deeper he takes me, the harder I tug. By the time he’s swallowed me whole, my toes are curled so tight and my muscles ache with strain. His hand works in tandem with his mouth while his other rolls my balls in his warm palm.
He feels good…so fucking good, I can’t think straight. My body is his right now, and it feels so right.
My throat is scratchy, voice hoarse from the cries coming out of me, and when he pulls my foreskin back and sucks the tip into his mouth, I fucking lose it. There’s no holding back, no warning him. Iblow.Streams of cum pulsate from my cock and into his mouth as he drinks me down, moaning around my length and causing a filthy vibration. Stars flash behind my closed eyelids, my body feeling euphoric.
When he pulls back, I don’t think, just act, as I sit up and grab his face, bringing his mouth to mine in a hurried, messy kiss. His lips are covered in spit and cum, and he tastes of me. I can’t get enough. My hand reaches down, taking his thick girth into my palm. It’s so wide my fingers don’t even touch as they try to wrap around. He’s going to destroy my ass if we ever get that far. The tip of his cock is soaked with his arousal. I run my fingers through it, bringing them up between us and sucking them clean.
His pupils are blown, and he looks so far gone. The salty taste on my tongue is a narcotic entering my veins, addicting and dangerous. I already crave more.
“Lie on the bed,” I whisper breathlessly against his lips. “Let me take care of you.”
This… this right here is where I excel. Regardless of how I feel about myself, IknowI can make men feel good with my body. Watching these powerful, wealthy men writhe and moan, spin out of control, because ofme, is the confidence boost I need to get through my day-to-day. It makes me feel wanted, needed, if only for an hour or two. When they look at me with lust-glazed eyes and when they get hard for me, when they come because of me, I’m wanted. It’s me they picked.
And this is no different. Even though in the morning, this will mean nothing, I know that, at least for tonight, I can be enough for him.
Jules looks like an angel carved by Jesus himself sprawled out on the still made bed. His beautiful cock sits heavy against his abs as his balls hang low. With the way his legs are spread, I can just barely make out his puckered hole, and my mouth waters.
I wonder if he’d ever let me lick him there.
Situating myself between his thighs, I wrap my hand around his length, stroking him nice and tight. His red bulbous head peeks out from my fist, skin stretched and shiny with how hard he is. My mouth waters as a bead of pre-cum pools out, begging for me to taste.
“I want to see those juicy lips wrapped around my cock, pretty boy.” His voice is rough, the words coming out low and raspy. The sound alone making my spent dick twitch.
God, I want him so fucking bad.How can my need for him be this strong, when I came not even five minutes ago? I’m never this excited around a client, and I don’t know if it’s simply because I’m doing something tonight that I know good and well I shouldn’t be doing… or if it’s something else entirely. Somethingmore.
Leaning down, I run my tongue over his slit before glancing up at him. “Whatever you’d like,daddy.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jules van der Meer
“Whatever you’d like, daddy.”
Those four words hook in my mind, wrapping around my brain like a blanket as I watch him swallow me down. Those four words have absolutely no business turning me on as much as they do. I can honestly say, in my forty-two years on this earth, I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘daddy’ sexually. I didn’t think it would be something I’m into, but hearing the words roll off Bodhi’s tongue like a purr has me realizing I’m sure as hell into hearinghimsay it.
The scene taking place in front of me is one from my deepest, darkest fantasies. A fantasy I didn’t even realize I had until Bodhi sat down at that table in the lounge the first time all those weeks ago. His baby blues peer up at me from beneath those dark lashes, lips stretched to full capacity to take all of me in his mouth.
