Page 34 of Bred To Be Owned

I laid my head back against the arm of the couch and laughed, but I was still uneasy. I needed to ask about graduation, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without sounding ungrateful.

“After your graduation, we’ll be married,” he said. “Do you need a proposal?”

I choked on air, turning my head towards the back of the couch to sputter and cough.

He chuckled again. “I want the world to know you’re mine, Toula. However, it’s more important to me that you know you’re mine. I would propose if you asked me to, but marriage is non-negotiable.”

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I was warm all over, and the only cure was going to be getting him naked upstairs in our bed. I tapped him lightly on his shoulder. “Situp.”

He pushed into a kneeling position, bracketing my legs between his, but I could slip out of his hold. I sat on the edge of the couch and held my hand out to him. He didn’t hesitate to link his fingers with mine.

Leading him out of the office, I wrapped my other hand around his bicep.

He let me enter the bedroom first, and I instantly turned around to look at him.

“No one takes care of you. Let me be the one who does.”

His brow furrowed, contemplating my words. With a small shake of his head, he gave me control over this moment. It wouldn’t last long, but I’d take every second I could. His dress shirt collar was open, and I rubbed my knuckle against his smooth skin. I wanted to grip his shirt in both hands and tear it open so that the buttons scattered across the room, but I didn’t. Instead, I took my time, walking my fingers from the open collar to the line of buttons. Popping each one open, I laid a light kiss on the revealed skin before moving further.

He had tucked his shirt into his dress pants, and I thought tugging it out wouldn’t be sexy. I placed one last open-mouthed kiss against the middle of his chest, and I let my hands drift down to the top of his dress pants. Sliding his belt through the buckle, I unzipped the fly to run my knuckles down the small bit of skin above his boxers. Gracefully, I kneeled in front of him, untying his shoes and removing his socks.

I should have been nervous. I was kneeling in front of a man, but this wasn’t about being subordinate to him. This was turnabout, and it was fair play to be the one in control. I was the one in power, completely dressed, and he was at my mercy. I grabbed the material at his thighs and yanked his dress pants and boxers to the ground. He stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. I wanted to make him feel good. To make him crave me, and only me.

I started at his feet and brushed my hands over the tops. letting them wander up his shins, over the red stars tattooed on his knees, until I reached his thighs. There was definition to the muscles there, and I traced the indents with my tongue. First the left, then the right, before sliding my hands to the backs and massaging the muscles.

On the next pass, I brushed my hands north until I reached his hips. Using him for leverage, I reached up to trace my fingers along the V-shaped grooves carved into his hips. Discovering each one with my tongue, I heard a hiss. Smiling, I left an open-mouthed kiss on his stomach.

We communicated best in silence. He didn’t tell me to stop. He didn’t rush me. Yet, I didn’t need the visual of his hardness to know that he was enjoying himself.

I was feeling brave. I squeezed the firm muscles of his ass. Gripping each side tight, I engulfed his dick in the warm, wet heat of my mouth. This had seemed like a good idea, but I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Grabbing his hands, I guided them to the back of my head. He understood my silent message and threaded his fingers through the hair there. Gripping the strands tight, he guided me up and down his length, never pushing farther than I could take.

“Good girl. Now, suck in your cheeks.”

I did as I was told, and his fingers tightened in my hair, causing the roots to burn against my scalp as he continued leading me. My hand left his thigh, and I wrapped it around the bare skin of his dick that I couldn’t reach with my mouth. Accidentally squeezing him as he dragged me towards his head, I heard him let loose a low growl, his sounds implying he liked it. I kept up the constant pressure, gliding along his length.

“You’re doing so well.”

I didn’tstop. I didn’t want to stop. There was this visceral need to make sure he knew I was the only one who could make him feel this way.

He moaned, low and deep. “So pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He paused, taking a few staggering breaths. “Take me, Toula. Make me yours, moya malenkaya lisichka.”

His praise ignited some deep desire to drive him out of his mind. He was coherent, and while I appreciated his guidance, I wanted him delirious. Consumed by so much passion, he couldn’t remember his own name. I clutched the globes of his ass and thrust him forward, taking more of him into the back of my throat.

I moved on my own, sliding up and down his length, maintaining the pressure in my cheeks. I was steering myself, and the quicker the pace, the more groans dropped from his lips.

“Stop,” he commanded.

I didn’t listen, continuing my pace.

“Lisichka, stop. I’m going to come.” He tried to hold my head still by my hair, but he’d lost control. His body shuddered, and with one last moan, his dick sputtered in my mouth.

I’d won, and before I could think about it, I swallowed.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

I shifted back to sit on my heels. “If I wanted to kill you, death by pleasure isn’t it.” I let him catch his breath before I said, “I told you earlier I wanted to take care of you.”

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