Page 64 of Faking the Shot
I soothe the mark with a gentle caress, leaning down to press a kiss to her heated skin. “Good girl,” I murmur, my voice rough with need. My fingers thrust deep into her, curling to hit that perfect spot inside her, the one that makes her body quake. I press kisses along her spine, my lips trailing over the soft curve of her back as she squirms on my lap, her stomach pressed firmly against my thighs.
Her moans grow louder, muffled slightly by the pillow she clutches beneath her, her hips writhing as I keep my rhythmdeliberate, teasing her clit with my thumb while my fingers stroke her from the inside. I take my time, enjoying the way her body responds to every little move I make, her breath catching with every curl of my fingers.
“You did so well for me,” I praise, my hands stroking her back. She’s soft and warm in my arms, her body pliant against mine. I bring my thumb to her lips, pressing gently. “Suck it, baby. Suck it so it calms you down. Good girls can suck. They deserve it.”
Her lips part, and she takes my thumb into her mouth, her tongue swirling over it in a way that makes my cock ache. She’s so fucking beautiful like this, her cheeks flushed, her eyes still dazed from her climax.
“I want to suck your cock,” she whispers, her voice almost trembling as she looks up at me, her eyes filled with something close to desperation.
“Is that what you want, baby?” I ask, my voice dropping low as I cup her cheek. “Will that make you feel better?”
She nods, her lips brushing against my thumb. Her need is palpable, and it’s everything I can do not to flip her over and bury myself inside her. But this time, I let her take the lead.
Still in my lap, she shifts, her eyes locked on mine as she moves lower, her fingers tugging at the waistband of my shorts. I lean back, giving her the space she needs, watching as she frees my cock, her breath hitching as it springs to life in her hand.
“You’re so big,” she whispers, her fingers wrapping around me, stroking slowly. Her gaze flicks up to meet mine, her lips parting as she leans down, her tongue flicking over the head.
I groan, my head falling back as her mouth envelops me, warm and wet and so fucking perfect. She takes her time, her tongue exploring every inch of me, her lips soft. This isn’t rushed or frantic. It’s slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring every second, every taste.
I bury my hands in her hair, not to guide her but to feel her, to ground myself in the reality of her mouth on me. She’s perfect—too perfect—and I know I’ll never get enough of this, of her.
Her pace quickens, and I can feel the tension building low in my abdomen. “Fuck, baby,” I rasp, my hips bucking slightly. “You’re so fucking good at this.”
Her moan vibrates around me, a sensation so intense it sends a jolt straight to my core. My hands tighten in her hair, guiding her as she bobs her head, taking me deeper with every stroke. The sight of her—lips stretched around me, cheeks hollowing as she works me over—has me on the edge of losing all control. She moves like she’s been doing this forever, her tongue swirling against the sensitive underside of my cock, her rhythm devastating slow.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, my voice hoarse. “You take me so damn good.”
She hums in response, the vibration sending another jolt through me, and I can’t help but thrust gently, my hips rolling up to meet her. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away—she takes me deeper, her throat relaxing as she swallows me whole. The wet, obscene sounds fill the room, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
I feel myself teetering on the edge, and I try to warn her. “Val, I’m close. You sure?—”
But she doesn’t stop. If anything, she doubles down, her eyes locking with mine as she takes me even deeper, her nails digging into my thighs as if daring me to hold back. I don’t. With a guttural groan, I come hard, the release shuddering through me in waves. She doesn’t spill a drop, her throat working as she drinks me down, and when I think I can’t take anymore, she pulls back slightly, her lips brushing over my sensitive skin.
And then, like the little vixen she is, she moves lower, her mouth finding my balls. She takes her time, licking andsucking each one gently, her tongue tracing circles that have me twitching in overstimulation.
“Such a good girl,” I murmur, brushing her hair back as she cleans me, her tongue flicking over every inch with an almost reverent focus.
She groans, frustrated, and pulls back to look up at me. “What’s the matter?” I ask, still breathless.
“I’m not like this,” she says, her voice trembling. “I shouldn’t be wanting to be your good girl, to let you spank me and . . . but I want it. I want it so much. More than I’ve ever wanted anything, and I don’t understand.”
I cup her face, tilting her chin up so she has to look at me. “I don’t understand this either and maybe we can figure it out together. I want you so much too, and it scares me,” I admit, my voice low and rough. “It scares how much I want to bury myself inside you bare. How I want to fill all your pretty holes, claim you. And I hope you let me. I so fucking hope you let me. But if you’re not comfortable, I’ll stop. Please, promise me you’ll stop me if you don’t want it.”
“I promise,” she whispers, her cheeks flushing.
“Such a good fucking girl you are, baby,” I murmur, my thumb brushing over her swollen lips.
She glances down at me, her voice barely a whisper. “Can I keep sucking your cock? Just because . . . I like it.”
“Anything for you,” I say, stroking her hair, my heart thundering in my chest as she leans down, her head settling into my lap. Her legs are curled up on the couch, her body draped lazily like she’s perfectly at ease, like this is exactly where she belongs. Her lips wrap around me again, slow and unhurried, her tongue gliding against me as if she’s savoring every moment.
She doesn’t rush. It’s not frantic or desperate. It’s indulgent, almost peaceful, the way she moves her mouth over me, slow, like she’s savoring every second. Her eyes flutter closed, herlashes resting against her cheeks, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s about to drift off like this, so content and completely wrapped up in me.
The thought nearly undoes me.
My hand stays in her hair, brushing gently through the strands as I watch her, utterly captivated. Her mouth fits me like it was made to, and the way her body seems to melt into the couch, into me, leaves me breathless.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur, more to myself than to her, my voice low and reverent.
