Because that’s what it’s gonna be. A goddamn filthy face fucking. Nothing like what we’ve done before, just raw and brutal. Jesus H, I’ve severely underestimated the effect he’d have when he’s on his knees for me.
Taking a shaky breath, I sink my fingers—the perfectly roughened ones, according to certain hockey brats—into his scruffy coif, forcing him to look up at me. Is that my heart beating? I thought that fucker left the building decades ago.
“Daddy’s gonna fuck your face, princess, and you’re gonna behave, hold so still, and take it.”
His eyes are blown out with lust. “Yes, Daddy.”
Well, fuck me. He wasn’t supposed to look at me like this. Like I’m his whole world. Something happens in my chest. Something that feels like booted feet kicking at the shriveled lump of flesh that resides there. They’re steel-toed boots, by the way, and they make an impact.
I unzip and unbutton my jeans. His gaze is riveted, glued to every movement of my fingers. Wait till he sees how hard I am right now. I make it good for him, pulling the front of my boxers down slowly, letting my cock spring out.
“Shit,” he says. “No matter how many times I see it, it’s just … fuck.”
I’m big. No other way to say that. “You intimidated?”
“Nuh-uh. I want you to stuff me full, Daddy.”
Fuuuuuck.
Pressing my cock down, I rub the head between his lips, testing him—I told him to stay still, will he?
He does, but he inhales long and deep.
“Are you trying to catch my scent, princess?”
“You’re damn right, Daddy.”
“No shame.”
“Not sure I know what that is.”
I can’t be too hard on him for that one. It’s something we share. I’ve never had much of it either.
“Do you like how I smell?”
“I could get addicted to that scent. Now are you gonna stick your cock in me or what?
That’s it. I pat his cheek as if I’m knocking on a door and shove my way inside as soon as he opens. I shouldn’t give him my cock at all for being a lippy little shit, but—and I’m loath to admit this—he might have me by the fucking balls. I’m too far gone not to see this through, but I’ve also had enough of his snark.
His face stuffed with my ginormous cock is so much better. I hold it there, not moving, straining his jaw.
“Look at you, McKinnon,” I say, deciding on the spot he doesn’t get “princess” when he’s being a shithead. I tuck a curl of his shaggy hockey mane behind his ear, admiring the uncomfortable-looking position of his lips stretched around my shaft. “This is how you should be, mouth full of my cock, so that it can’t say anything else to get you into trouble.”
He’s forced to breathe through his nose, so I keep careful track of his breaths ghosting over the skin of my cock. I only want to choke him enough to make the tears stream, not to make him stop breathing.
“You’re doing a good job, princess.”
Ace manages an attempt at a smile.
Using gentle motions, I stuff my cock into him further, so it hits the back of his throat—immediate tears. But not the kind from crying, just the involuntary kind you get from having something hit the back of your throat. I pull out enough and pause again so that he can catch some air. When I’m certain he’s okay, I fuck my way in and out slowly, hitting the back of his throat every time I want more tears.
I move my hips faster, he keeps up, letting the flat of his tongue glide over my shaft, acting as nothing more than a place for me to stick my cock. His lips get all shiny and red, his cheeks develop a bright flush.
Fucking Christ.
“You’re so damn gorgeous like this.” One hand holds him by his brown locks, the other caresses his face. “Let’s see you suck.”
The look he gets in his eyes, it’s all that cocky smugness I’m used to seeing. He sucks alright, like a damn Hoover. It’s too good to go fast and rush an orgasm. I keep a languid pace, luxuriating. The pressure he’s keeping, fuck, don’t think I’ve ever been in a better mouth.
