Page 23 of Mayfly

Did I do something wrong?

His whole body is tense.

He bangs his fist against the wall.

My mouth is empty, and my chest is hollow.

I’m frozen.

Silent.

Waiting as patiently as I can for any kind of reaction.

Then he exhales so deeply it blows a loose wave hanging in my face. His head falls to the side, and with a cheeky grin, he says,“This is the best mouth I’ve ever had.” And slams my head back against the wall; my throat opening up as the tip of his cock rams against it.

I'm full again.

I don’t gag this time.

His pleasure is my purpose.

I let him slide deeper, my jaw aching from the width of him.

He pulls out, then thrusts back in.

His nails are like razors on my scalp as he scratches through my hair, as though he can’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.

I reach higher to grab near his hips.

He grunts louder. More urgent.

He's close… again.

I can tell by the way his hips jerk and the heat radiating from his body.

He’s burning up, and I’m the cause.

I feel filthy, and angelic.

Another drop of spit hits my chest.

I blink, and more tears fall.

“Uh—fuck! Don’t do that. It’s too fucking hot.”

“Sowy,” I splutter.

He pulls out suddenly, wraps one hand around my neck, and lifts me to my feet. With fire in his eyes, he holds me there, his body tensing just like it did before.

That’s twice now he’s stopped himself from coming.

“You’re not very good at following orders, are you?”

I shake my head. There’s hair stuck to my face and my lips feel bruised and swollen, but for the first time in my life, I feel sexy.

The right kind of object.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

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