Page 118 of Filthy Rich Santas

I blink, feeling dazed and turned on and so eager for him to overwhelm me, use me, let me be good for him, that I’m lost.

Beckett wraps a hand around my throat again, pressing under my chin with his thumb to force my head up, then pinning me in place with his eyes. “Show me how you’ll tap my leg if you need me to stop, Lana. You won’t be able to speak. You won’t be able to say ‘red.’ Not with my cock choking you. Now be good and let me know you can follow directions.”

I whimper, and the sound is barely out of my throat before Beckett has pulled his hand back, his grip on my hair tightening. “Fucking do it.”

His dominance has my head spinning, and I’m suddenly so wet, so close to coming even though I’ve had no stimulation other than his words, that I can’t think.

“I-I-I…”

He pulls my hair sharply. “You can. Tap my thigh. Now. Two taps mean stop.”

The intense sting against my scalp clears my head, making me moan, and I finally give him what he’s asked me to, tapping his thigh twice.

“Good girl. What does that mean?”

“Stop. Red. Um, that I need to breathe.”

He smiles at me. “Good. And what color are you now?”

I blink up at him. “Green.”

He doesn’t ask again, just tells me to open, then his thick, swollen head is pushing past my lips and the smooth steel nubs of his piercings are sliding over my tongue and nudging the back of my throat. He goes so deep this time that I instinctively swallow around him, and the way he groans as my tongue spasms against his shaft sends a rush of pleasure through me.

I did that. I’m making him feel good. I’m not just his to use, I’m pleasing him.

“Suck,” he says sharply, the command sending another burst of arousal through me.

I do, and Beckett curses, his voice low and throbbing, and pushes even deeper.

“That’s it. Fuck, your mouth is like a dream. So perfect. I could keep you on your knees like this all fucking day. But right now, I need more.”

He pulls out, leaving me gasping, then slides back in again, forcing my mouth open wide and my lips to stretch around him as he drives deep again.

“Tap my thigh if you need a break,” he growls when I shudder.

I blink up at him, my eyes watering, and relax my hands on his thighs, telling him in every way I can that a break is the last thing I need.

I want more of this. More ofhim.

Beckett gets the message. My pulse pounds as he does it again, his grip on my hair tightening as he thrusts in and out, deeper and deeper, fucking my face just like he promised he would.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. “So fucking hot and tight, you’re going to make me come. Now take a breath and hold it. I need to feel your throat milk me.”

My chest is already heaving, my breasts heavy and nipples tight. But when he pulls out and tells me to take a deep breath, the anticipation ratchets up another notch, making my skin prickle and my pussy clench with excitement.

Beckett doesn’t wait. As soon as I draw some air in, he shoves back inside me, his piercings sliding into my throat as his cock forces it to open for him, his grip on my hair holding my head perfectly in place.

I moan, my throat vibrating around his shaft and my head starting to get light and floaty as he holds me in place, his cock buried deep and his balls pressing against my chin, grinding against my face.

My eyes flutter closed, my whole existence narrowing down to the taste and feel of him.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Yourmouth.”

He grinds against my face again, his shaft swelling against my tongue and choking me exactly the way he promised he would, and then he’s cursing, grip tightening and thick thighs turning to rock under my hands.

And then he’s gone, pulling out so fast that I’m left gasping, whining at the loss.

He was about to come. I know he was.

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