His head tilts as a smile ghosts his mouth. As he stares straight at me, he slides his hand to the crown of his fat cock before he drags it back to the base. I shudder, on the verge of climax. I’ve never seen such a raw, primal act of masculinity in my life.
I draw in ragged breaths as I watch the stranger pump his cock for several long strokes.
Watching isn’t cheating. Roy has claimed that several times over the past fourteen years.
Even if it were, the visual is too enticing not to gawk at.
My theory that I’m not cheating goes out the window when the stranger rolls his thumb over the slit at the tip of his cock so he can transfer a droplet of pre-cum to my lips.
When his thumb breaches between my lips, my insides squeeze. He tastes delicious, and it sets a fire ablaze in my core—a fire I can’t control.
Shit,I’m going to come if I don’t calm the wildfire spreading across my midsection.
The effort to hold back the sensation I’ve not experienced in an extremely long time doubles when the stranger mutters, “Not yet. You’re not allowed to come yet.” Disappointment stops blistering my skin when he adds, “You’re not allowed to come until you’re riding my face or strangling my cock. So what is it going to be,printsessa? Do you want to take me for a ride, or are you reserving the pleasure for me?”
I look at him, lost.
Why is it my choice? My wants didn’t factor in with Roy. We did missionary once a month until eighteen months ago. Foreplay was rarely an option. When it was, it was never about me.
“Christ,” grunts out the stranger. “The innocence in your eyes doesn’t match the sexiness of your body. I’ve never been more desperate.”
Sexy? Does he think I’m sexy?
My imaginary Victoria’s Secret angel feathers fan out to their full wingspan when he says, “So make your choice,printsessa, because I sure as fuck ain’t coming until you’ve screamed my name at least twice.”
“I’d have to know your name to scream it.”
Shock barely registers from the bluntness of my reply. How could it when nothing but sheer awe flares through his eyes from my sassiness?
“Nero, baby. My name is Nero.” He slides his hand up and down his densely veined shaft a handful of times before he murmurs, “But you can call me whatever the fuck you want while riding my face. Daddy. God. A seat with no arms. The choice is yours.” His groan when his eyes lower to the crotchless region of my teddy is my undoing. I want him now more than my lungs crave air. “So how about you get your fine ass on the bed and spread your legs for me. Let me see exactly what I’m about to feast on.”
“I—”
“I ain’t asking,printsessa.” His tone is threatening but also not. It is as if he is used to getting his way, but he enjoys being challenged. “My hard-earned money paid for this room, so I want the full shebang of my spend.”
Since my last snippet of sass was well-received, I give it another try. “Isn’t it the pro’s job to make sure her john is taken care of?” He smirks again and then nods. “Then how about you shut up and let me work my magic?”
3
MIRANDA
“Fuck. Me.” Pre-cum leaks from Nero’s cock as he walks backward, his eyes never leaving mine. “Knew it wouldn’t take long to find what you lost. Never expected it to be this fast, though.”
When there is a safe distance between us, I should hightail it for the exit and write off our exchange as a near miss. But since I’m feeling things I haven’t felt in a long time, and I’m just as confident they’ll be lost again within minutes of me leaving, I slowly cross the room.
My thighs rub during my last two strides, but there’s no friction. I’m too soaked from how thick Nero’s cock becomes the longer he watches me under hooded lids. He’s as hard as an iron rod, and his body’s response to my prance surges more than my libido.
My confidence is just as high.
I’m almost at the bed when Nero says, “Lose the coat.”
I hesitate. Confidence is an entirely different matter when you have coverage.
Without it, I will wither like a picked flower.
“Y-you first,” I demand, breathing heavily.
Slickness extends beyond the barrier of my crotchless teddy when his hands move to the done-up buttons on his dress shirt without hesitation.
