Page 181 of Tell Me Something True

There was nothing safe about the way he made her feel.

About the things he made her want.

But she felt safe anyway.

She felt safe and seen and whole.

And more like herself than ever before.

“More. Please.”

“That’s better,” he murmured, stroking his cock to the base, then back up, milking so much precum from the head, it leaked down the underside. Pooled between the tip and the side of his hand.

Ducking her head, she lapped it up like a cat with cream before tugging his hand free and licking every drop from his fingers. Then she raised her eyes to his again and opened her mouth.

Like a good girl.

He grunted and pulled his hand free of her hold. Lifted his other hand from her head and held them both out at his sides. “If you want it so badly, take it.”

It reminded her of that first night when he’d laid out how things between them were going to be. What she’d have to do to get what she wanted from him.

You’re going to have to beg me to give it to you. Or you’re going to have to take it from me.

And while she no longer had an aversion to begging him, she wasn’t quite ready to stop playing this game.

Especially when he stood there, all patience and confidence, his arms at his sides, legs wide, cock jutting out temptingly.

Take it.

Heart hammering in her chest, she glanced up at him so she could see his reaction as she leaned forward just far enough to wrap her lips around the head of his cock. Captured a fresh bead of precum on her tongue, then swallowed it down.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes narrowed and glittering, “that’s a pretty sight. Your lips wrapped around my cock.”

She paused. His entire body tensed as if in pain, his breathing unsteady. She waited like that, with just the tip of his dick in her mouth. Waited for him to twist her hair around his fist and shove his cock down her throat like he did that night in the closet. Waited for him to take control of the situation.

Of her.

But instead of putting his hands on her, he lifted them and linked them behind his head. It was a show of strength, his biceps rounded, his abs contracted, pecs flexed. It was more of that cockiness, that confidence, his stance that of a prince ready to be pleasured.

But mostly it was proof that she could trust him to hand that control over to her.

He was, once again, giving her what she truly needed.

Permission to trust them both.

Edging closer, she laid her palms flat against his upper thighs, the tips of her fingers just under his hips, the smooth skin there a contrast to the rough hair under her palms. He was warm, his body tense, a clear giveaway that he wasn’t quite as patient as his pose would like her to believe.

She lowered her head, taking more of him into her mouth, and he exhaled, a rush of air that could have been relief, could have been encouragement. Was probably, more than likely, a combination of both.

As she slid her mouth slowly up and down his length, she thought for sure he’d take over at some point. That if he didn’t hold her head still and fuck her mouth, he’d at the very least thrust his hips. That he’d dictate the cadence. How fast she took him. How deep. How hard.

Part of her wanted that. She’d loved the way he’d used her that night in the closet. The punishing pace he’d set.

How he’d lost control.

How she’d felt so powerful.

But he didn’t. He kept still. Kept his hands locked behind his head.

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