Page 65 of Petrichor

Fly

Iwake up with my cheek plastered against a hard, hairy pec. I might have drooled a little. I’m still on top of Marco, but we are lying down on the rug in front of the fireplace. My ass is sore as hell, dry cum covers my thighs, and my back hurts.

Marco's breeding kink has turned into a stuffing-Fly-full quest. Which requires Marco to shoot his jizz in me as many times as he humanly can. As part of a balanced sexual diet, I love a two a.m. cream-sucking meal, but I also need to sleep. I don’t know how he fucks me all night and then goes to work perfectly fine all day. He’s much older than me—fifteen years?—does he gulp down amphetamines or something?

I’m not wearing my black crisscross teddy anymore, Marco took it off me at one point, tearing the straps on the back. It was my first time trying it on. And I guess it will be a big seller, judging by theway Marco’s blazing eyes almost incinerated me. The thought of making him a nice pair of boxer briefs hits me again. I’d love to see him in one of my creations.

I stroke my nose on him. How can he smell even better after all the sweating? Rich, warm, and comforting with a hint of me. My nostrils flare at the thought of leaving my smell on him. Mine. The word is so foreign to me.

He’s still asleep. His chest raising and falling under me. I can hear his heart slowly beating against my ear. His large hand is on my ass, covering one entire cheek, his muscular thighs tangled with mine. His sated cock is resting near my knee, in a coma after all the sex we had.

It felt different last night. There was an uncontrollable urgency in his movements and in the way he looked at me. Like he was afraid I’d disappear or something. He’s been pushing me away all this time, but it felt like yesterday he finally embraced what we have. He kissed me. We never did that before. Not on the lips. And he never smiled at me or hugged me. He even jerked me off—that felt incredible.

Is it because of what happened to him? The wound was very superficial, but I don’t know what kind of psychological impact theshootinghad on him. What if the different way he acted was caused by a temporary, adrenaline-induced reaction? Will he go back to being stiff and guarded around me? Will he regret it?

I almost laugh at my stupid mental blabbering. Marco is an asshole. A self-centered, conceited, arrogant mobster, who inexplicably sometimes does incredibly selfless deeds. He’s rough then surprisingly attentive, rude then incredibly gentle. That’s why I like him so much. Because he keeps me on the tip of my toes.

I regard his face, propping my cheek on my hands. The light coming from the windows hit his dark hair, turning the locks apalette of brown shades. His eyelashes are curved, the tips almost blond, lips chapped by the numerous kisses we exchanged.

He’s of course an amazing kisser. That mouth can turn insatiable and all-consuming. His stubble scratched my skin, though, now I feel it itching. I slide my finger lightly on his long, crooked nose. Then near his eye where a bruise is forming—he must have fought yesterday—my eyes fall down to his puffy knuckles. A light grunt slips from his lips, gruff, rumbly. So damn hot.

His Adam’s apple moves as I eye it wantonly. I think I’m actually drooling. Quickly losing against my impulsive desire, I envelop that sexy little ball in my mouth and suck on it. Then move the flat of my tongue around it and moan. Hell, his taste is my aphrodisiac. I kiss the underside of his jaw, and go down to his jugular. His husky grunts are driving me crazy. But I continue with the lapping and kissing on his neck and shoulders for quite a while.

His cock is getting hard against my leg, makes me smirk and then bite my lip when I give it a look. He’s not all the way stiff, and yet so thick. The head is red and fat, it reminds me how amazingly it can stretch me. It’s my first time with an uncut dick, and I don’t know if it’s because it’s Marco, but I love it.

I realize that I’m salivating again, so after giving his handsome face a quick glance I slide down his body. My tongue goes right to work licking the fat tip while my hand slowly pumps the rest of his long length. He tastes of cum and Marco.

Marco.

Marco.

His name keeps echoing in my head as his cock turns hard as a pole. I’d love to stick it inside me, but my ass is really sore. So, I suck on it while jerking myself off. The slurping noises I’m making sound so arousingthat I moan.

His phone starts ringing from somewhere on the floor, halting my bobbing head halfway up. Marco tenses then blinks and looks down at me with a frown.

“Keep that cock in, mouth still, just move your tongue,” he orders in a groggy voice. He’s demanding from the second he wakes up. His dark eyes laser focused on me. I do as he says, too turned on to do otherwise. The fingers beating off my dick go faster.

He he lifts his phone from the floor and answers without looking at the caller. “Yeah. No. You mean the brothers are both involved? Are you sure it was him? Fuck. Fine, thirty minutes.” Click. He hangs up, heated gaze still on me.

He puts the phone down again, and then utters in a challenging tone, “Now finish what you started.”

I slide my mouth all the way off with the intention to give him a sassy reply, but he knows me too well. He sits up, grabs my head, and pushes it down, making me swallow his entire cock until my nose presses against his pubic hair.

“Jesus Christ. Fuck!” he growls as he keeps my throat stuffed. “I’ll sleep near you every fucking night if this is the service I get in the morning.”

I glare at him and dig my nails into his thighs, clenching my throat around him and loving the lusty glower he aims at me.

My eyes start watering, and I try to relax when he starts to buck his hips. Slowly, almost gently. The fingers in my hair turn tender, while his other hand strokes my shoulders and back. “Keep pumping your pretty cock.”

His unhurried tempo continues. His thrusts are firm and steady, pushing all the way inside my throat like he’s trying to make me take more—when there is no more. I find myself liking this slowsex. Rough is still my favorite, but without all the urgency, I can almost feel his fondness toward me.

And some kind of desperation. Fear? Of what?

It doesn’t take long for both of us to come. I swallow it all and then lick his dick clean.

I nuzzle my face into his hand when he brushes my cheek. He then pries my mouth open and gives my tongue a single lick before rising from the floor. His flaccid cock and heavy balls swing as he moves. Then it’s his glorious ass’s turn to be ogled while he walks to the bathroom.

I let my body drop on the plush rug. How can we share so much pleasure and then he just ups and goes without a word?

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