Page 53 of Between the Lines

“I’ve had you up on your knees with my handprint on that sweet ass of yours.”

She clenches her thighs, and I scoot forward, sending the full head past her lips, where I hold her.

“You’ve been on your knees for me so many times, it should be a crime. I should be kissing your bruises for what I’ve done to you.”

At this,shescoots forward, her tongue darting further down my shaft, past our hands thatshemoves out of the way, and I swallow as I wonder if I’ve met my match.

Because when I hold her head in place and stutter out a sigh, I can feel the vibrations of her little whine on my dick. When I tell her more, about how I’ve worshipped her tits and used toys and played her like a fiddle, she edges closer to me. And when I tell her, “You can take it, sweetheart,” and fist the back of her head, her thighs press together, her lashes batting up at me like she’ll meet me toe to toe. I lick my lips and send up a silent prayer in thanks.

“Use your hand for the rest if you can’t. Been picturing these cute little manicures wrapped around my cock every night this week. Let me see it come to life.”

She moans around my cock, opens her throat, and takes me deep. And she does it all without taking her eyes from mine. I might love control in the bedroom a little more than most, but the way that Claire is simultaneously giving me what I’ve asked for while her hands are very much still on the wheel? It very well might be the death of me.

She strokes what she can’t reach with her mouth, exactly as I’vetold her to do, those little noises massaging my shaft just as well as her mouth is doing. I give her more of me, lifting my hips off the back of the chair, but the angle is wrong. She gags a little, and I’m about to slip out of that sweet mouth and pull her into my lap when my girl—my girl?Where the hell didthatcome from?—grunts, and lifts up higher onto her knees.

I moan, tilting my head back against the headrest so I can still see her. I fist her hair and tug her off me, but she whines in protest, her hand still pumping in that tight grip I just showed her.

“That hand is so good. You’re such a quick learner.”

Her cheeks flame at the praise, and I want to keep going, but she says, “I can take more, Nathan. Let me.”

Her head dips, her tongue seeking me, but I tug her again, testing the roughness that, just as I hoped, makes her thighs press together.

“Not here. Not now. I need you in my bed for that.”

It slips out before I can stop it, but if anything, she doubles down. Digs her nails into my thigh. Squeezes me tighter as she bends over my lap, despite my protests, and takes more of me even deeper into her throat. Praises slur from my lips as I hold her head in place.

“Fuck, sweet Claire,” I groan, massaging her head. “Such a good girl. Such a bad mouth.”

Her wicked grin precedes the moment her lips wrap around one of my balls, and I momentarily die and take a trip to heaven.

My hand wanders from her bicep down to the V-neck of her shirt. Her nipples are trying to cut through, and the moment I pinch one of them, she makes a strangled sound that vibrates my balls deliciously.

“No,” she pants, her mouth falling away, her body leaning against my legs for purchase. “This is for you.”

Except, she presses her breast right back into my hand, squeezing my shaft in the process.

“Trust me, sweetheart, thisisfor me.”

I slip my fingers beneath the collar of her shirtand her bra, almost finishing all over the both of us at the feel of her skin, her pert nipple, her panting breaths over my cock.

“Wanna…fuck, I want to make you feel good. I want to be so good for you, Nathan.”

She peers up at me with shiny, pouty lips, and I can’t say no. Instead, I cup her face with both hands and guide my cock back into her mouth, letting my heavy balls relax as I give into the finish line up ahead.

It doesn’t take long. She’s doing something wicked with her tongue to the underside of my head, and her grip is tight. My balls cinch up, and I grip her hair, gently tugging to pull her away.

“Gonna come, Claire,” I grunt. She doesn’t let up. Doesn’t waver in the slightest. Instead, she digs her manicure into my thighs, blinks up at me, relaxes her throat, and swallows.

“Oh God?—”

It’s white lightning to my cock. I grip her hair, her head, the hand that’s wrapped around my base, and explode into her willing throat, painting her in it. She keeps licking, keeps gently sucking, and I have to physically remove her. When she does, she’s wet and shiny with me, wearing a pleased, dazed look that I want to see forever.

“Such a good girl,” I manage. She purrs,purrslike a kitten, and I swear my heart stutters before growing a few sizes in my chest. It’s the next move that makes me consider dragging her away to a deserted island for the foreseeable future.

She presses the most chaste kiss to the middle of my shaft before tugging on my pants that are twisted above my knees. I can’tnotobey her. She pulls them up the rest of the way, tucks me back into my pants, and zips me back into shape.

I thought I was spent, but that simple move, thatcare? I could pound her into next week, then snuggle her into the next month.

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