Page 92 of Strictly the Worst

No I hadn’t. But I tried.

“Show me,” I whisper.

“How I touched myself?” he asks, his eyes catching mine.

I nod. He pulls his shorts down and I swallow hard. His cock looks impressively thick. He palms it, moving his hand up and down. Pre-cum glistens from the tip.

“Want to know what I thought about?” he asks, his voice gritty as he moves his hand up and down.

“Tell me.”

“You. Sucking me. Looking up at me with those pretty brown eyes with your lips curled around my cock. Feeling the flutter of your tongue. Seeing your eyes water as you gag on me.” He’s found his rhythm. His breath pants to the beat of his hand. “Fucking your face with my fingers curled into your hair.” He grunts. I can’t take my eyes off him. Yes, I’ve touched myself thinking about him, but it’s been nothing compared to this.

My imagination doesn’t come close to the reality. I sit up and crawl across the mattress to him.

“I’d fuck your mouth hard,” he tells me. “I wouldn’t be gentle.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be.”

The corner of his lip curls. His fist is tighter now. His cock harder. He’s fucking his palm like I want him to fuck my mouth.

“And when I come in your mouth, you’d swallow it all down,” he tells me. “Like the good girl you are.”

“Yes I would.” I reach for him. “Let me taste you.”

He keeps hold of his cock, running the tip along the seam of my mouth. I lick without hesitation, tasting the salty potency of him. He slides against me again, and I open my mouth, taking in the plushness of his head. Fluttering my tongue against him like he described.

“Christ, Carmichael,” he moans. “Your mouth is heaven.” He pushes in further. “Look up at me.” So I do. Just like his fantasy. I give him the most innocent look I can manage with his dick in my mouth.

“Such a good girl. I’m going to fuck your mouth now.”

And I want him to. I don’t want him to be gentle or kind or caring. I know he can be that. He’s showed it today and for the last week. But right now I need him dirty. So I nod and he thrusts his hips, making my eyes water as the tip of him skims the back of my throat.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, pulling back. And I do. His eyes catch mine and I know what he’s asking. Is this okay? Can he do it again?

I nod and he thrusts.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to last.” His fingers tangle in my hair, the pads pressing against my scalp. I reach around him, my own palms against his ass, encouraging his movement, loving the sound of his groans. The taste of him coats my tongue.

“Two seconds, Carmichael,” he tells me. “Your choice.”

They’re like magic words. Because all of this is my choice. Having him here. Having him in my mouth. Letting him explode inside me.

Everything is up to me. And I want it all.

I flutter my tongue against him again and he lets out a low grunt, before he pumps into my mouth, his seed spilling on my tongue. His body is still, the only part of him moving the part between my lips. And when he stops coming he drops to his knees, cupping my face as I swallow him down.

“Fuck. Me,” he mutters.

“A bit late now,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.

“That was the most…” he screws his face up. “Boring blow job I’ve ever had.”

I start to laugh and he kisses me, even though my mouth must still taste of him. Then he lifts me onto the bed and wraps me in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. My face is resting on his chest. “Want to fly back to Exuma with me and escape from all this?”

“Do they have working bathrooms?” I ask.

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