I let go of him and graze my palms over his belly, and then around to clutch at his hard taut backside, feeling the globes of muscle go concave as he thrusts into my mouth. I suck in a sharp breath through my nose as he pulls back, and I swirl my tongue around him as he retreats—he seems to like that, because he immediately shoves back in, harder now.
I see the pleasure on his face—it’s carved on every line, blazing from his eyes.
I’m doing this to him. Giving him this. Making him feel this. He’s at the edge of his control again, and I’m the one taking him there.
I pull at his backside, pushing myself down his length as he thrusts in—eagerly taking him, now. Wanting his need. Taking his pleasure for my own. Proud that I can make him feel this way, that I can give him this.
He growls when I pull at his butt. “Want more?”
I can only hum, moan around him. “Mmm-hmmm.”
“Fuck, you want more.” Like he can’t believe it.
“Sweeter than honey, and you can’t get enough of my cock.” He thrusts roughly. “Want it? Wanna take it like this?”
I take it like that. All of it. All of him. Dirty, rough, fast. He thrusts into my mouth, and his jaw falls open, and I pull at him and I swallow and try to breathe, and I take him.
“Ahhhhfuck, Myka. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop.” He tightens his grip on my hair—it had loosened briefly. “Gotta fuck your pretty mouth, Myka.”
Isn’t that what he’s doing?
“Just hold still and take it, Myka.”
I clutch at his backside, hold still, and let him take my mouth. And that’s when I discover that he has not, in fact, been fucking my mouth yet.
Now, he does.
Fast. Rough. Shallowly, but not at all gently.
I gulp as he hits the back of my throat, and breathe, and watch. Revel in the way his face goes slack, and then the way it tightens with his nearing edge. He’s close.
He’s shoving his hips forward, holding me in place with both hands, head dropped back on his neck, spine arched, knees bent slightly.
“Myka…fuck,” he hisses. “Gotta come, Myka. You gotta take it.”
My eyes widen, and my pulse hammers like I just did a dozen burpees. His pace goes frantic, and I’m not sure I can take much more. And then he shoves into my mouth, hard, and stays there, flexed forward, a ragged groan escaping and turning into a growl and then a roar. I taste it on my tongue, a sudden flood of salt heat, viscous and thick on my tongue and surging down my throat, and he pulls back and I suck my lips around him, cheeks hollowing as I swallow. His roar goes back down to a groan, and he thrusts again, a stuttering, ragged movement, and he comes more, and I swallow that, too.
Again.
And again.
And then, finally, he’s done. Softening in my mouth, and I taste him, feel the texture of his cum on my tongue.
He pulls free of my mouth but doesn’t let go of me. His eyes are narrow, his jaw clenched so hard I’m worried he’ll crack a molar. “Holy fuckin’ hell, woman.”
Panic and nerves retake me. “Was it…did I…” I close my eyes, force the question out. “Did you like it?”
He goes stone still. “Did Ilikeit?”
I force my eyes open, look up at him. “Yes. Did you like it? Was it okay?”
His brow furrows and his jaw pulses. And then he bends, scoops me up in his arms, stands, moves to his bed and settles me onto it, on my back, framing me with his body and his arms, his weight on me.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes, I’m serious.”
“You’re actually legit askin’ me if Ilikedthe way you just sucked me off?”
