Page 7 of Dearest Ronan

Water trickles down his chest and abs. I imagine licking them down to his heavy cock.

The veins under his shaft would throb wildly, compelling him to shove every single delicious inch into my mouth abruptly. I’d moan around him, tasting his saltiness and begging him to give me more.

Faster. Harder. More passion.

My hands would find themselves gripping his tight ass, pushing his cock past my gag reflex, but it wouldn’t be enough for him either. Unable to help himself, he’d begin furiously fucking my face, demanding I take it all.

In real time, his jawline tightens, conveying a steely resolve. Every single muscle on his face seems to echo the gravity of his thoughts. I wish they wereourthoughts.

Since he’s letting me unabashedly watch him, I go back to spying on his now veiny and angry cock. Its tip turns purple, dripping with precum like a stream.

I want it in my mouth so badly.

In his own explosion, cum shoots straight against the glass.

I’m fixated.

Entranced.

Captivated.

I’ve never seen a man cum before. Not even in porn. Mostly because I’ve never watched it.

My idea of porn is playing make-believe images of me and Ronan twisting in bedsheets. This way, I can make up the plot and every single sinful position Ronan forces me into. Forces me, because that’s what he’s like in my head-porn stories. Hepummels my pussy in a show of possession—marking me so deep that no other man can ever compare.

Because he can’t live without me. He needs me. He apologizes for keeping me waiting with every single masculine stroke of his cock.

So, yeah. I’ve never actually seen a man cum before—all because it wasn’t his.

Right now, Ronan lookspissed.His jaw clenches so hard I’m afraid for his molars.

In one quick swoop and forgoing the cum slowly washing away in the water, he opens the shower door and struts to me. He doesn’t bother with a towel, and this time I resist ogling his naked body. Instead, I’m pressing my spine against the wall, willing it to protect me. I may imagine Ronan possessive of me in my head-porn stories, but in real life, I’m a twenty-year-old virgin, and around him I might as well be fifteen again.

My knees wobble while he’s taking long, purposeful strides towards me, only stopping when our toes are inches from touching.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks with narrow eyes.

Much how I used to be a love-sick teenager lusting after my guardian, Ronan’s always been dominating with passion, but also kind. It’s roles we’ve long-since fallen out of when I moved out. You see, while I turned aloof and avoiding seeing Ronan, he also slipped into a calm,I’ll check on you but won’t push too much,kind of man.

At this moment, I’ve lost the aloofness, and he’s lost the calm.

“I-I’m sorry,” I say.

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry.” His voice rumbles so deep in his chest, I swear I feel the vibration in my toes. “I asked what you’re doing.”

Nibbling on my lips, I downcast my eyes out of guilt, but when I spot his half-mast dick threatening to brush against my thigh, I quickly advert my eyes to a random spot in the corner. “What am I doing?” I answer like it’s obvious. “I’m talking to you.”

“Anika,” he slowly starts. I’m afraid of what he’ll say, so I stop playing dumb. After all, I’m in my twenties now. Sure, some days I still feel like a kid, but I’m not really; and I really, really don’t want him to view me as one.

Pushing past sudden dryness in my mouth, I say, “You see, what happened is I heard sounds coming from your bathroom.” He lifts my chin in his strong fingers, forcing my eyes to his. “S-so,” I pause as the entirety of my sandpaper mouth dries. I have to give a version of the truth. I can’t tell him I spied. “So, I came into your bedroom.” If now was the time for jokes, I’d laugh. Came. Oh, I came alright.

So did he.

Since no one is giggling, I take a massive gulp.

“Why?” he asks. When I don’t answer right away, he presses his strong naked thigh between my legs. “Don’t bother lying to me. You didn’t think I was hurt, making you come in here all doe-eyed to investigate; and no, you didn’t think an intruder broke in, so you put on your brave girl panties—the same panties you later stuck your delicate fingers inside—to fight said criminal.”

Assessing my current state, he casts his line of sight slowly down my body, starting with my face. Every limb tingles at his attention while inevitable heat exchanges between us until my nipples point.

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