Page 89 of His Pretty Little Duet

My nose brushes his as I nod. “Only with you.”

When he raises his hand and pushes two fingers through my lips, a small grin curves the corner of his mouth. He pushes them inside, down my tongue, to the back of my throat, where he pokes hard at the end. I gag a little, my throat closing around his penetration. He retracts his fingers. “What you did before isn’t the same thing, sweet girl. Do you want to suck my dick anyway? Gag around it? Would that make you happy?"

I nod, worrying my bottom lip. I really want to make him feel all the intensity I do when he pleasures me, and I think I can do it. A wisp of a nod shows his approval, and with that, I crawl down his body. For the first time in two days, my stomach flutters with excitement and nervousness—my missing butterflies.

Stopping at the first protruding two-pack, I find it too lick-able to resist. I wanted to lick him weeks ago and, dammit, now I’m going to.If I lick him... does he belong to me?Ilap my tongue out to roll it over the hard grooves shaping his abdominals. The slab of muscles tighten.

As I get to his thick cock, it bobs.

His fingers comb through my hair before he leans up to scoop the blonde curtain into his fist so he can hold the lot in a ponytail, offering him the view he so desires.

Inhaling courage, I take him into my mouth, and he releases a deep, encouraging groan as I flick my tongue around. I peer up to see his blue gaze hooded, his jaw clenched. The breathtaking intensity in his eyes forces mine to close, and I concentrate on pleasing him, on pleasing my man.

I’d like him to belong to me...

A small amount of salty precum slides into my mouth, mingling with my saliva. I use it to further wet his shaft. Exploring the long, steely muscles with my tongue, I flick around the silken skin at the head to the bunched foreskin below. I lap a line up the tight cord beneath before travelling further, tonguing the slit. He bucks slightly when I do that, so I do it again. And again. I feel his thighs tighten. The hand gripping my hair urges me deeper, reassuringly, not forcefully. "That's it. Let me slide down your throat.Relax."

I try to take him in. The veins below his skin pulse under my attention. Halfway down the solid muscle, I hit the same spot he poked with his finger, gagging slightly. Sliding back up his erection, I immediately dive again, this time getting a tiny bit deeper.

He hisses. “Good girl. You’re doing so well.”

A moan leaves me with his praises. A rumble of my enjoyment reverberates around his cock, provoking his pelvis to thrust upward.

After a few bobs of my head, I get a rhythm, sliding down with pressure and dragging my tongue along the lower knot of skin on the withdraw, while his fist causes a sting on my scalp.

Tears stream down my face.

His groans become grunts.

His muscles tighten, contort.

“I’m going to come. You’re going to swallow every drop I give you. Then lick me clean... That’s it... Oh.Fuck.More...That's a good fucking girl.” He jerks my ponytail back and pushes me down, controlling my head in a brutal way that causes my throat to contract and whimpers to soar around his thick cock with the battering sensation. “Good...good girl.”

Then he explodes in a violent rush, flooding my mouth with his cum, shaking and pulsing through the moment, never relinquishing his control over my head. I swallow, but it's thick and powerful shots of hot fluid. I love the indecency of it, the virility. The rawness. I love bringing him that kind of pleasure. I want to do it again.

He groans softly, his head dropping back on the pillow. My powerful man, sated by my mouth. Satisfaction and pride flitter through me as I lick his cock, wiping all the saliva and cum from it with my tongue.

“Christ,” he mutters. “Your inexperienced little lips fuck me up, sweet girl.”

I rise and crawl up his body, settling down in the crook of his shoulder. Peering up at him, I find his eyes closed and his chest expanding and falling in deep movements. “I did good?”

“Yes. Very good.”

“Will you ever belong to me?” The question spills from my lips before I even think about it. His eyes snap open. “I mean...It doesn’t seem fair—” His brows draw in as he stares at the ceiling. “I belong to you.”

A long, slow exhale leaves him, stoking the kindling under my heart, forcing it to ignite with frantic little beats. He gazes down at me through his lashes, a softness to the piercing bluerings. “Not in the way you want, little deer. But much more than anyone else.”

I let those words sink in, down to my chest, settling around my heart that expands just for him.Much more than anyone else.It’s a sweet offering and one a girl like me can accept. More than a crumb. Much more. “I heard small feet before you woke up,” I say, gently. “And they definitely aren’t Hench— I mean Bolton’s.”

“Small feet?”

“Yeah, like a kid’s.”

He sighs his displeasure, sliding me gently from his chest and rolling over, leaving me in the bed.

Pulling the blankets up, I watch him stroll over to the closet, retrieve a pair of faded blue jeans and throw them on. They are slung low around his hips, directing my eyes to the sharp muscle-arrows at his lower abdomen, andGod, they are sinful. They make me silly, make my butterflies manic. His torso is long and cut to the fine definition of a sculpture.

“You’re so handsome.” I sigh dreamily.

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