Page 36 of Tower

He cupped his hand below her chin, gathering her spit. “There. That’s going to be much better.” He smeared her saliva along his shaft and went back to stroking his cock.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he said, taking a tiny step toward her. His scent wafted to her nostrils; more drool fell from her chin, landing on her naked breasts.

“Such a messy girl,” he chastised but didn’t slow his movements. “No. Don’t look away. You watch. You watch what you can’t have because you lied.”

She snapped her attention back to his actions, willing her body to stop reacting. She’d just had a mind-blowing orgasm; how could she be so wanton and eager to have his tongue and fingers on her again? She’d been horny before, but never had she felt so damn empty as she did watching him pump his thick cock through his own fist.

She wanted it. She wanted his taste, his feel, she wanted to devour him, and she wanted him inside of her.

It hadn’t been a big lie. A tiny fabrication of the truth to protect her pride. Why did he have to retaliate with such cruelty?

She’d rather have a spanking. Couldn’t he just spank her a little instead?

“Oh fuck.” He came forward again, his cock almost touching her fingertips.

The belt pulled tighter.

“Fuck.”

She moved her gaze up to his face, and found him staring down at her. His face flushed, his nostrils flared, and his hair hanging down around his eyes.

“Catch it all, Azalea,” he ground out, jerking her head downward and making her watch him again.

Long, hot spurts of cum shot out of his cock, landing in her palms. He continued to jerk himself, aiming toward her outreached hands. He grunted and pulled the belt tighter, amping the discomfort in her lips up another notch.

But nothing compared to the longing she felt at watching the strings of his cum land on her palms, across her fingers, but none coming close to her mouth.

When he finished, he stroked his clock slow, bringing the last drop of his seed to the tip and wiping it on her fingers.

“Hold that,” he ordered, letting go of the belt and leaning back against the bead catching his breath. The belt loosened, and she could have spit out the leather if she’d dared.

But she didn’t.

She moved her hands to form a deeper cup and held his load between them. Making sure to not let a drop leak out. It was warm, sticky, and she could smell his fragrance.

The desire to lick herself clean overwhelmed her and, for a moment, she wondered if the punishment for her presumptuous behavior would be worth the joy of feeling his cum on her tongue.

“Put your hands together.” He stood and yanked his pants back up, buttoning them.

Her heart sank, but she pressed her palms together.

Peter tightened the belt again and pulled upward. “On your feet, Azalea.”

She managed to stand, still holding her hands in a prayer position. He led her by the belt to the attached washroom where he took the gag out of her mouth and dropped the belt onto the counter. She worked her lips open and closed, getting the sting out of them.

He watched her silently, as though deciding what to do with her next. His cum had cooled in her hands, and the idea of licking them clean no longer aroused her like it had in the thrilling moment of his orgasm.

“Wash up.” He turned the water on in the sink and stood by with his arms folded over his chest, watching her as she rinsed off his cum. “Next time, you’ll lick your hands clean, but not until my cum has dried on your skin.”

She nodded, and reached for a towel.

He took the towel from her and patted her hands until they were dry. She looked up at him, feeling a sense of shame. She’d let him suckle her pussy, she’d come hard, so fucking hard and loud—screaming like a wanton woman in his room, and then she’d let him come on her. And she’d loved it. All of it. Every second, even when he denied her. When he’d punished her for such a small dishonesty. She’d loved it.

“You’re overthinking again.” He smiled gently at her, pushing her hair behind her again. “So much hair.”

“My mother told me my sister kept hers short. I grew mine out so—” She stilled her tongue and swallowed back the words. She’d never said them before.

“So, your mother would maybe see you as different. So, she’d know you weren’t your sister.” Peter filled in the blanks all on his own. He didn’t need her to spell anything out for him; he seemed to know everything.

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