Page 122 of Something So Strong

“Such a good boy,” he smiles, rocking himself back and forth along the flat of my tongue—pushing deeper with each pass until the head of his dick is sliding past my teeth and forcing streams of drool to cascade out the sides of my mouth and flow down my chin to my neck.

“So warm.” He runs his free hand from my forehead, through my hair, and to the base of my skull. “Take a deep breath.”

No sooner have I sucked in as much air as I can past his thickness, does Jesse thrust forward. Holding my head rigid, he rams against the back of my throat. There’s no time to get used to it like when I was in control, and the invasion has me gagging around him. Pulling out just long enough for me to cough, Jesse forces his way back in and coaxes my throat to open for him with brute force, more than anything.

The strain on my jaw is so intense I’ll no doubt be sore tomorrow.

I try to keep focus on the lewd faces he’s making, though he soon grows too blurry because what was originally only a few tears is now welling so deep in my lids that it spills over onto my cheeks, mingling with the spit he’s still forcing out of me.

With my neck bulging under his pressure, I groan out in warning before my chest convulses and my throat wretches him out.

Swallowing quickly, I try to gulp down some air, but Jesse forces his balls into my mouth and slaps his cock against my forehead.

With a vast spiderweb of thick saliva coating my cheeks and eyelashes, I suck them down against my tongue and curiously lap at their fuzzy surface.

With a salacious grunt, I feel Jesse quiver and fall back against the van door as he slips from my mouth.

“God, that’s pretty,” he pants, and I believe him.

My lips are numb, and my mouth is swollen. My throat hurts. I’m crying. Spit is dripping from my nose and chin to the floor of the van. And my eyelashes are stuck together—all for him. Only for him. Because I need it just as much as he does.

Swiping his hand down my face, Jesse wipes the spit off in my hair, then grips me with both hands.

“I better not see you spill a drop,” he warns, easing the bulge of his cockhead past my lips.

Gentle for the first time, he lets his head fall back as he drags me back and forth along his length. Tongue pressed to the bloated veins along its underside, I hollow out my cheeks and exist as nothing more than his fuck toy. His chosen hole.

My respite doesn’t last for long though, because his hips are soon driving forward to meet me. His balls smack against my chin, and the short blond hairs at the base of his shaft scratch and tickle my top lip and nose without the protection of his hand to stop it.

And still, I feel more purpose in this moment than from anything else I’ve done in the twenty-five years before meeting Jesse. It’s pathetic, and I don’t care. Being his whore makes me happy. And if I’m lucky enough, I’ll be able to mold him into mine as well.

“Damn, Kai, this pretty fucking mouth of yours is too good.”

Jesse ceases the movement of his hips but wrings his fingers tighter around my hair as he continues to use me.

The pace is dizzying, though it could just as easily be the lack of oxygen sending me into a heady daze.

“God…Fuck, yes!... So… good!”

More and more broken groans and whines tumble from his mouth between curses. Then he falters—his hips stuttering in a filthy grind as strands of hot cum shoot against my tonsils and bitterness coats my mouth.

Weak at the knees, Jesse eases his hold on my hair. As his hands slip free, the pause for a split second on my jaw in admiration before my mouth is empty, and he’s falling back against the door.

Huffing deeply—the windows around us drenched in condensation—Jesse watches me swallow, then present him with my empty mouth.

“Goddamn,” he exhales, gathering the loose strands of hair stuck to his sweaty brow and tucking them behind his ear. “Get on the seat.”

“Do you want the keys?” I ask, wiping my face with my forearm.

Jesse tucks himself back inside his jeans. “I said, get on the fucking seat.”

Foot up, he rubs the toe of his boot against my hard-on. “Your turn.”

“Jess, it’s okay—”

His palm slaps against my Adam’s apple and his nails push so deep into my skin I’ll be surprised if I’m not covered in little crescent-shaped bruises. “Get on the fucking seat, Kai.” His voice is so primal and animalistic. And even though my mind is still foggy, I need no more convincing.

My hands fall to the rough carpet on the bed of the van, and I creep backward until I feel the middle seat. Pushing Jesse’s coat aside, I’m only halfway through pulling myself up on it when bullying fingers have my pants undone. With my hips raised, he tugs my cords and underwear to my knees.

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