Page 28 of Hemlock

I understand what she's doing, talking about something painful for her while not having to face anyone when she makes her confessions. A hint of guilt swims in my gut for forcing her into this position, but like every other emotion I don't want, I shove it right back down into that place I never want to access again.

The water turns off, and a second later, she pulls back the shower curtain as if she walks out naked in front of me every day of her life.

My eyes drop to her tits, the heat of the water making them red and flushed. Her skin glistens with droplets of water, nipples peaked to mouth-watering perfection.

"See, the thing with Billy—"

I hold my hand up, stopping her words.

"You're going to suck my cock, and I want you to choke and gag on it."

I watch her eyes drop to the front of my jeans, and the woman might as well have me in her hand, mouth inching toward my cock for how hard I am for her.

She chews on her bottom lip as her eyes skate back up to mine. "You want to use me."

I don't answer her, and I can tell that she reads my lack of response as my answer. Instead of telling me to fuck off and get the hell out of her house, she shifts her weight on her feet, thighs rubbing together.

My fingers ache to unzip my jeans, but I want her to do that for me. Slowly, she makes her way across the room, pulling a towel from the rack and tossing it at my feet before she begins to lower herself in front of me.

She looks up as she sits back on her calves, eyes full of desire.

"I want to be used," she whispers, and it feels more like a confession than a means to turn me on even further, although it leaves me with a craving I have no doubt she'll be able to satisfy. After having her last night, I know just how dangerous this woman is, and how stupid I am for letting something as simple and mundane as sex control any part of me. But it doesn't feel that way with her. She wants me as much as I want her. It isn't a manipulation on her part. She needs to be fucked good, and from what I can gather, that's all she wants from me.

It leaves me feeling as if she has somehow managed to turn the tables on me, as if I'm the mark instead of the other way around.

I snarl, the sound coming from deep inside my chest when she runs her hands up my thighs on their way to my zipper.

Her small hands skirt over my throbbing length, one finger tracing the outline of the head, and my cock jerks behind its denim restraint.

"Quit fucking around," I growl. "Pull me out."

Although she obeys, her movements aren't rushed, and I like that she doesn't scramble to comply. She's doing exactly what I want, but at the speed at which she feels I deserve it. It's torture, absolutely brutal, and I fucking love every prolonged second of it.

As slowly as she works down my zipper, her mouth is around the tip of my leaking cock the second it's free, forcing an uncontrolled groan from my throat.

Her face angles up, and I feel trapped in her eyes as she watches me all the while taking my cock as far down her throat as she can manage. Without any effort on my part this miracle of a woman gags when my tip hits the back of her throat, and then she takes me an inch or two further, her throat closing around me, reminding me just how tight her fucking cunt is.

I squeeze my hands into fists, resisting the urge to tangle them in her wet hair until the drops of wetness on her cheeks are tears rather than water from her shower. One of her hands presses against my thigh, fingernails digging into my skin, while the other grips the base of my shaft, stroking the parts her mouth can't reach.

I nearly come on her face when she pulls back for a second, unconcerned with the spit that dribbles from her chin. She's messy, sloppy while sucking my dick, and I'm in fucking bliss watching the way her pupils dilate as if she's enjoying this just as much as I am.

I want her like this every fucking day, on her knees, looking up at me with flushed cheeks as my cock disappears down her throat.

Three more dips of her head, mouth working my shaft and I fucking swear I'm going to blow my load down her pretty little throat.

But I don't get to wish and hope for things like that, and I'm a fool for even letting those types of thoughts enter my head. She has too much power right now, despite being on her knees.

I shift my hips back, needing to regain authority over this fucking situation. She nearly falls forward, barely catching herself on her hands before face-planting on the bathroom floor. Her eyes narrow when she looks back up at me, but I don't offer her an apology.

I growl my disapproval when she reaches up to wipe the spit from her chin. "Don't."

Instead of listening to me, she narrows her eyes and wipes it anyway.

I inch forward again, this time grabbing the back of her head and forcing her mouth back down my cock until I’m satisfied with the way the spit dribbles down the underside of my balls, telling me that her face should be just as messy.

When I allow her to pull back once again, she wipes the spit away a second time.

I drop my eyes further, seeing her arousal glistening from the tender slit between her thighs.

---