Page 171 of Something So Strong

“No one would believe me if I told them.”

I should feel embarrassed and ashamed of myself for liking it so much, but, my god, nothing could be farther from the truth. And my dick tenses beneath his foot at the thought of a fantasy so forbidden, that once upon a time I’d rather have slit my own throat than admit even a slither of weakness. Yet now, there’s a delight in how small I feel, like a cornered mouse and the cat’s paw is squeezing the life out of me. Except I taunted the cat. And I’m not his meal, I’m his pet.

“So full of surprises,” Jesse teases, bringing his left foot down to toy with the head of my cock. His toes stretch beneath the fabric and try to gain purchase but just slip away, so he rubs his big toe into my slit and pushes the swollen head harder against my stomach, massaging it up and down with his sole. He’s a fucking sculpture—leg and stomach muscles tensed, ribs straining against the milky and unblemished skin of his sides.

It makes me hate that I tainted him and that he’ll soon be covered in marks like I am, because it’s only a matter of time before I inevitably drag him completely under with me. Then, the threat of a neck full of hickeys will be the least of his problems. Jesse Kendrick may be able to free me from the shackles that chained me to Josh and his friends for nine years, but I was damaged long before they showed up.

“You’re staring.”

You’re fucking beautiful.

“Are you trying to make me nervous?”

I’m trying to decide whether you’ll still love me if I have a full-blown mental breakdown.

Jesse clamps both soles around me and pumps my cock until my mind is clear of doubt, and all I can think about is how good he’s making me feel. How good he always makes me feel.

My head falls back and the window clatters. I try to hold in a moan, but it comes out so deeply Jesse has to feel the vibrations. Then I’m cold again, untouched, with my master leering down at me—both arms reclining on the back of the bench seat.

Crossing his legs, he rotates his foot in front of me.

I reach for his sock but he pulls his foot away.

“With your teeth.”

My stomach flips with the overwhelming urge to paint Jesse’s feet with my cum.

Hands behind my back, I bow my head, licking his bare shin, then stick the tip of my tongue below the sock band. Seizing the white cotton, I pull back and release it before drawing it down past his ankle and over his heel. The hairs on his legs tickle my lips, and with all this stimulation happening just outside my mouth, my craving reaches its boiling point.

Pulling the sock the rest of the way off and flinging it free of my teeth, I look Jesse dead in the eye and open my mouth.

Silently, he stares back, not objecting to me taking matters into my own hands, though not exactly approving of it either. But I take my chance and push up on the bottom of Jesse’s big toe with the flat of my tongue.

The weight is everything I’ve needed since back in his room, and I suck it into my mouth when he doesn’t pull away. More salty than his fingers in a way I can’t explain, I circle it, and with each new rotation, the tightly wound band of anxiety in my gut unravels a little more.

Venturing further, I suck on each of Jesse’s toes. Licking between them and breathing heavily through my nose. Then, looking up at Jesse with the hope of my endeavors being recognized, he pushes his foot into the side of my mouth to gape it open and make enough room to shove all his toes inside.

My eyes flutter at the indignity and almost roll back in their sockets at how lush it feels.

My cheeks and lips have never been so strained.

My tongue has never felt such purpose.

I’ve never been so pathetically thankful for my mouth to be filled.

“Fucking hell, Kai,” he rasps, but between the blood pounding in my ears and my breath whistling harshly through my nose, I can barely hear him. Though I don’t really need to. I can see how he’s just as affected by this as I am. And when his big toe tickles my uvula, I gag around it—my hands darting from behind my back to grip his ankle and stop him from pulling out so I can continue bobbing my head and obsessively trying to take him deeper.

“Enough.” The edge of his voice is growing prickly, but I bite down, not ready to give him up.

Not too pleased with my insolence, Jesse braces his sock-clad foot against my chest and pries his other free. A web of thick saliva trails after it, with more spilling over my swollen lips. He smacks the spitty ball of his foot against my forehead and drags it down over my eyes and nose before repositioning it under my chin and forcing it up.

“Not cool, brat. And after I was so nice.”

With a kick, he sends me tumbling against the back of the passenger’s seat.

I blink with sticky eyelashes and see him tearing his other sock off. With both feet flat on the rough van carpet, he glowers down at me like a tyrant king on his throne.

“Get your ass over here,” he orders, patting his lap.

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