Page 131 of Play Along

“God, you’re so fucking good, Kenny, and that pisses me off that you’d be this good for anyone else.”

Eyes locked on his, I shake my head.

“What’s that?” he asks in this menacing tone, knowing I’m not able to respond with words. “You’re not going to be good for anyone else?”

I shake my head as he continues to fuck my mouth.

“You’re only going to be good for me?”

His thrusts are equally as frantic as his words, and I love it. I nod, my eyes begging for him to believe me.

“Only me, Kenny?”

I moan around his length, my hips rhythmically searching for friction.

“Goddamn, baby. Are you turned on from sucking me off?”

He pulls out of me, giving me a moment to breathe properly. Giving me a chance to think properly. “Yes.”

“Slip your fingers under that dress of yours and show me.”

Heat prickles my skin. I feel a little shy, a little exposed. A bit contradictory seeing as he’s the one almost entirely naked, cock out in the bathroom at our place of work.

He uses a single shaking hand to run through his perfect hair. “Show me.”

I tentatively reach under my dress and gather my arousal on two fingers, holding the evidence up for him to see.

“Fuck,” he growls, his eyes going dark as they lock on my fingers. “You’d do anything I told you to do right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything.”

Isaiah bends over, grabbing my hand, and slipping my fingers into his warm, wet mouth before flicking his tongue over the tips in a way he might do to a very different part of my body.

He nods towards his cock, covered in my saliva, hard and ready to come. “Finish the job, Ken.”

I can’t hold back my smirk, seeing him a little bit unhinged, a little bit wild with me.

“You think this is funny? I’m out of my goddamn mind right now. I don’t ever want to see another man touch you again.”

In response, I hold eye contact, gripping his shaft, and bringing my mouth back to cover him.

“Yes,” he moans, head falling back. “Never again.”

“Never.”

I work his length with one hand, wrapping my lips around the head. It doesn’t take long until his hips jerk in short, sloppy movements. His breathing is labored, his sounds mesmerizing.

“Kenny,” he cries out, followed by a whimper of desperation.

Contrary to his words, Isaiah tenderly holds my other hand—my left hand, rubbing his thumb over my ring—and then he’s coming in my mouth.

I watch the whole thing. The way he folds over and braces himself on one arm, using the sink behind me. The way he tries to keep his eyes locked on mine until the sensation forces them to close. The way every muscle coils up when hot pulses hit the back of my throat. The way he holds my hand the entire time, as if he needed some part of him to be sweet with me the way he typically is.

Reopening his eyes, every ounce of anger washes away.

He gently brushes my hair out of my face. “So pretty like this,” he says. “Mouth full of my cum.” The pad of his thumb traces down the line of my throat. “Now swallow it.”

I don’t even hesitate and do as I’m told.

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