Page 49 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

I lick my lips, shaking my head. “Aside from when I sucked you, no.”

Slowly, his hand moves up the length, and he rubs a pearl of pre-cum into his skin. The sound of slick skin fills the room, sounding absolutely obscene. “Are you going to take it all, Tatum? Do you think you can manage?”

“Please?” It’s the only word I can say. The only one I can think of.

“Such a good boy,” he whispers, releasing his cock as he climbs on the bed. He’s on his knees in front of me when he points at the headboard. “Lie down. Let me open you up, sweetheart.”

Fuck yes. Don’t mind if I do.

I scurry back, not wanting to waste a single second. Once I’m on my back, he grabs the back of my thighs and pushes them forward. “Hold your legs for me.” I do what he says, because I’m his good boy. He said so.

Grabbing my thighs, I hold them in place, whimpering when he slides between my legs, resting on his stomach. He’s staring at my hole, but my eyes are locked on his ass, now fully visible. I’ve always been a strict bottom—it’s the reason my relationship with Austin and the Bens never fully worked—but, with Abi, I kind of want to switch sides. He’s got the nicest ass I’ve ever seen, and I’m struck with a mental picture of me knelt behind him, spreading his cheeks, his hairy hole on full display. In the past, he’s admitting to wanting me to fuck him, and I think I’m game. For now, though, I want to be owned. To be dominated.He must realize how hungry I am for him, because, as his finger slides across my opening, we lock eyes, and he gives me a nod.

“I’m going to eat your ass like a fucking buffet, then I’m going to fuck you.” It’s not a request, it’s simply fact. As if wanting to drive the fact home, he inches closer, and lifts my balls with his hand. His breath is warm against my hole, and then there’s the sensation of wet pressure against it. Fuck. I love the way his tongue feels form-fitted to me. It’s as if we were made for each other. Maybe we were.

His tongue slides against me, rougher this time, and there’s a good bit of pressure against my hole. I know what he’s trying to do—to work his tongue into me—but he can’t seem to breach the barrier. I stare at the ceiling, trying to relax so I can grant him passage. It takes a while, but once I feel the tip of his tongue break the entrance, my entire body relaxes.

This is home. This is where he belongs. It’s something he’s told me so many times, and, yes, maybe I felt it before, but right now, I realize how true the words are. I don’t want another day to go by without some part of him inside me. I want him in there as a constant reminder that I belong to him.

He’s tongue-fucking me with force now, his hand reaching up and wrapping around my shaft. As he pumps me feverishly, I feel the edge drawing nearer. I’m not ready, though. I don’t want to come yet.

“Abi, baby, you’ve got to give me a second,” I plead. “I’m close. Please don’t make me come.”

He looks up at me and winks, not slowing down in the slightest. If anything, his grip tightens, and his stroke game intensifies. My eyes widen when I realize he has no plans of slowing down. His tongue slips out of my ass and travels the length of his lips. Staring at my cock, his hand moves faster.

“I will make you come. It is going to happen, Tatum. Come to terms with it, because the sooner you come, the sooner I can use it to fuck you. Does that sound good to you?” I bite my lip to stop myself from letting out a needy, desperate sound, and nod. “Good.” His hand rises and falls, pumping my cock with abandon. I feel my balls draw closer to my body. Then, the pressure eases, and he takes my balls in his hand, squeezing. The pain is unbearable, but in the best possible way. I writhe beneath him, unable to form words. “I love you, Tatum. Tell me you know.”

I nod frantically, needing his hands around me again. Needing to come more than I ever have in my life. “I know. Fuck, yes. More.”

“And you love me, little one?” he says, gripping tighter.

The question takes me by surprise, and my eyes shoot open. “Abi.” It’s the only word I can get out. I can’t tell him I love him. Not yet. Not now. The worst part is, I kind of want to say it, because I’m pretty fucking sure it’s true.

There’s a look of disappointment on his face, but it only stays there a second. He wraps his hand around my shaft and strokes me faster than before.

We work together, matching each other’s rhythm with ease. Every time his hand reaches the tip, he circles his thumb around the head. I’m leaking like crazy, and each stroke sounds louder than the last. As I approach the edge, I reach up and grip the back of his neck, digging my nails into his skin. He groans, and whether it’s from pain or pleasure, I’m not really sure, but he makes no attempt to stop me. The longer he strokes, the more I want it. Our eyes are on each other, and though there are endless declarations in each of our gazes, the only word I can get out is, “Close.”

Fire flashes in his eyes as he drags me across the finish line, growling, “You need it, don’t you? You want to shoot your load all over my cock so I can use it to fuck you.” As if he’s trying to prove a point, he crawls forward and grinds his massive cock against my hole, making me scream.

“Fuck,” I gasp. It feels like I’m coming, but nothing’s coming out. It’s like he’s taken my load by surprise and snuck an orgasm out of me before my body can catch up. No one has ever made me feel this good. They’ve never made me come undone soeffortlessly. I’m seconds away when he barks my name, startling me. Looking me in the eyes, he nods.

“Come for me.”

That’s all it takes. His simple instruction is the only thing I need to push me over. My dick erupts, sending shot after shot of my load flying onto his chest. As I unload, he works a finger into my ass, making me cry out. I count three shots before the world goes white around me and the only thing that exists is his unbearable grip and my aching cock.

I try to catch my breath, but it’s like sucking air through a straw. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to steady my breathing. His lips are on mine, giving me his air. His affection. The evidence of his love. I don’t know how long we kiss, but I know I never want it to end.

When he finally pulls away, a string of saliva connects us, and neither of us move for fear of breaking that tether. Once it snaps and falls into my mouth, I swallow our shared saliva like I’m taking communion. His finger’s still inside me, softly stroking my prostate. There’s pressure again, and I realize he’s slipping a second inside. His eyes tear away from mine when I gasp, and he stares at the place we’re connected, his face downturned.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“You’re so tight, little one. I don’t think I’m going to fit.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m scared I’ll rip you open.”

“You’ve fucked me before,” I plead. I’m not letting him back out of this. I absolutely refuse.

“I gave you the tip, Tatum. This is not child’s play. I could really hurt you. Maybe you could just suck me off again.”

The words are like being submerged in ice water. I’ve never felt this level of panic in my life. “You promised!” I cry, my voice coated in pathetic neediness. If he notices my tone, he doesn’t make mention of it. Instead, a third finger breaches my entrance, pulling another moan out of me. “Please? You said you would.” I’m clingy and irrational, but I can’t stop my meltdown fromhappening. With anyone else, I might feel self-conscious about my tragic behavior, but part of me—maybe even all of me—knows he won’t shame me for it. I’m practically sobbing when I grab hold of him. “Please? I’ll so be fucking good for you, Abi. I swear. Please?”

---