Page 88 of Pucking Obsessed

I yell out, banging my head back against the shower wall.

Instantly, D’Angelo lets go of my balls and reaches up to slam his palm across my mouth as a gag. “I said,silence. Slap your hand against the wall three times to safe word. Otherwise, I don’t want to hear any noise. You don’t get to choose what happens now; I do. I’m going to lick and bite this pretty skin, until you can feel it for days.”

I debate risking mumblingthank you, Sir.

Except, I’m going to be good for D’Angelo because the amazing way that I feel at his whisperedgood boymakes me want to prove him right.

I can be good for him, sometimes.

D’Angelo appears to notice the shift in me.

He presses his hand more firmly against my mouth, but his voice is softer. “I only take the time to claim my most precious property.”

I melt.

Then D’Angelo latches his mouth over my other nipple and bites hard.

My back arches, but this time, my cry is muffled by his hand over my mouth.

It’s reassuring and anchoring knowing that I can scream or gasp as loudly as I need to, but he’s going to keep me quiet.

If I tried to struggle, then he’d hold me down as well.

D’Angelo’s strength gives me the freedom to submit.

D’Angelo’s silky hair brushes against my pecs.

He licks down my abs, before circling my belly button.

“Put your own hand over your mouth.” D’Angelo takes his palm away, in order to drop to his knees in front of me on the hard floor.

It takes a moment for me to follow his order because shit, it steals my breath to see him kneeling like this.

It’s alwaysmekneeling in front of him in the shower.

Normally, just before he roughly fucks my face.

Following D’Angelo’s command and gagging myself with my own palm willingly, somehow makes me feel that I’m even more under his control.

At the same time, it’s liberating.

Then D’Angelo grips me by the hips and bites the side of my arse.

I arch in deliciouspleasurepain.

D’Angelo gives me a wicked look, as he hovers dangerously close to my hardening cock.

Is he going to…?

Lightly, D’Angelo grazes his teeth over the glans, and I yell louder.

I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed, when he next rests his teeth on my thigh.

He’s painting my entire body in his teeth marks.

It’s primal.

I lose myself in the sharp points of pain and the haze that follows it.

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