Page 70 of Thor

"Let me," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could overthink them. I pulled back from his embrace, meeting his questioning gaze.

"Let you what?" he asked, a hint of gravel in his deep voice.

Instead of answering, I slid from his lap in one fluid motion, ignoring the sting as my sensitive ass brushed against the rough denim of his jeans. I knelt between his spread legs, looking up at him through my lashes, my hands resting tentatively on his thighs.

His blue eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he realized my intention. "Mandy," he started, a warning note in his voice. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," I interrupted, my voice stronger than I expected. My fingers traced small patterns on his jean-clad thighs, inching closer to the obvious bulge straining against his zipper. "Please."

Thor's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought for control. He was giving me an out, I realized. Making sure I didn't feel obligated. It only made me want to please him more.

I looked up, summoning my courage, and played my trump card. "Please, Daddy?"

The effect was immediate and electric. Thor's entire body went rigid, his hands fisting in the bedding on either side of him. A low, primal sound escaped him—not quite a growl, not quite a groan, but something in between that made goosebumps race across my skin.

"Fuck," he muttered, the single syllable packed with so much raw hunger it made me tremble. "You know what that does to me."

I did. I'd discovered the effect of that particular word on him accidentally, during a heated make-out session when it had slipped out without my meaning it to. His reaction had been immediate and intense, and I'd filed it away for when I needed the nuclear option.

Like now.

My fingers reached for his belt buckle, suddenly clumsy with anticipation. The heavy metal resisted my efforts, and I fumbled with it, my confidence wavering.

Thor's large hands covered mine, steadying them. "Let me," he echoed my earlier words, his voice rough.

Together, we worked at his belt, then the button of his jeans, and finally the zipper. Each small victory revealed more of the thin cotton of his black boxer briefs, stretched taut over his impressive erection. My mouth went dry at the sight, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttering in my stomach.

He lifted his hips slightly, helping as I tugged his jeans down his thighs, revealing more of those powerful legs I'd just been sprawled across. The briefs came next, and I hesitated only a moment before drawing them down as well.

His cock sprang free, and I couldn't contain my small gasp of appreciation. Thor was as impressive here as he was in every other aspect of his physicality—long and thick, flushed dark with arousal, a bead of moisture already gathered at the tip. The sight of him, so hard and ready because of me, sent a renewed pulse of desire through my core.

"Jesus," I breathed, reaching out with tentative fingers to trace along his length. "You're huge."

A strained chuckle escaped him. "Don't sound so surprised, princess. I'm six-four. Everything's proportional."

I wrapped my fingers around him, testing his girth, marveling at how hot he felt against my palm, how the skin was like velvet over steel. "Modest, too," I quipped, gaining confidence from his reaction as my touch drew a hiss of pleasure from between his clenched teeth.

My initial hesitancy gave way to determination as I began to explore him with growing boldness. I stroked up his length, thumb swiping over the sensitive head, spreading the moisture gathered there. Thor's breathing changed, becoming deeper, more ragged, encouraging me to continue.

"That feels so good," he murmured, one hand coming to rest gently on the back of my neck. Not pushing, not directing, just maintaining contact. "You have beautiful hands."

The compliment sent a warm flush through me. I increased the pressure slightly, watching his face for reactions, learning what he liked from the subtle tightening around his eyes, the catch in his breath, the flex of his fingers against my neck.

"I want to taste you," I said, surprising myself with my boldness. But it was true—I wanted to feel him in my mouth, wanted to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he'd given me.

Thor's eyes, which had drifted half-closed as I stroked him, snapped open at my words. The blue was almost completely swallowed by black now, his desire written plainly across his face.

"You don't have to," he said again, but the strain in his voice betrayed how much he wanted me to.

"I know," I replied simply. Then, maintaining eye contact, I lowered my head and took him into my mouth.

The taste was clean and masculine, the weight of him heavy on my tongue. I couldn't take much at first, just the head and a bit more, but Thor's reaction made it clear that was more than enough. His fingers tightened reflexively against my neck, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

"Fuck, Mandy," he breathed, his voice wrecked. "Your mouth—Christ."

His response emboldened me. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking gently as I pulled back, then took him a little deeper on the next downstroke. My hand wrapped around what I couldn't fit in my mouth, working in tandem, finding a rhythm that had Thor's thighs tensing beneath my free hand.

There was power in this act, I realized. Kneeling between his powerful legs, taking him apart with nothing but my mouth and hands—it was its own form of control. Different from the surrender I'd experienced earlier, but no less intoxicating.

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