Page 92 of Torched Spades
“Eight weeks, Becca… That’s how long I’ve fantasized about standing between you and that fucking desk, watching you gag on all ten inches.” He moves like a sniper. Taking a hold of each armrest, he shoves my chair backward, sending it slamming into the bookcase before leaning in close. “Have you imagined the same?”
God, he’s all I can breathe.
“No.”
He rests the tip of his tongue at the base of his front teeth, one corner of his mouth curving up. “Liar.” Leaning against my desk, he grips the wood on either side of him. “You’re staring pretty hard there, Doc. Are you going to take what you want or are you going to keep following rules while everyone else breaks them?”
His taunts are like seductive splinters needling under my skin. I stare hungrily as his cock strains against the confines of its own flesh, licking my lips as a bead of pre-cum rolls down a tangle of thick, pulsing veins.
As if drawn by a tether, I lean forward, pausing when I notice a streak of red smeared across his knuckles. Instead of being horrified, something inside me ignites, and I drag my gaze down his denim-covered legs, only to linger at the two dark stains on his brown work boots.
He smells like copper and vengeance.
The longer I stare, the more I’m awed at how two very different people can be so similar.His feet are red, too.
As if sensing the drastic change in me, Johnny shifts one boot under the legs of my chair and drags me toward him. “Suck my cock, Becca,” he demands roughly. “I won’t ask twice.”
I shiver. “Is that a threat?”
Crooking his finger, he traces it along my jaw. “Sweet Becca…” I don’t dare move as he trails his hand down the hollow of my neck, hovering his thumb over my pulse point before pressing down on it. “Threats are for the weak. You should know by now I’m a man of action. Now open your mouth or I’ll drag you to your knees and fuck it myself.”
His threat doesn’t scare me. The fear lies in knowing that’s exactly what I want.His dominance. His force.I get drunk on them because for once, I don’t have to make all the decisions or “fix” someone. I can be told what to do and be guided.
No responsibility.
No worries.
No reservations.
Bending my head, I take him in my hands and lick a slow line from root to tip. The guttural groan that rumbles in Johnny’s throat only emboldens me, and opening my mouth, I wrap my lips around the head and suck.
“Fuck…” he groans, wrapping my ponytail around his fist so tightly my eyes water. “Look at me, Doc.” Hollowing out my cheeks, I maintain suction while gazing up at him through my lashes. “Use your other hand to unbutton your blouse.”
With my resistance obliterated, all I can do is obey. Holding my rhythm, I slide my hand down my sheer white blouse and release each button one by one.
When the material parts, his jaw tightens.
“Pull your bra down,” he demands. “I want to see you.” I drag both cups down, my nipples puckering under his scorching stare. “Now take all of me in your mouth. I want to hear you gagging on every fucking inch.”
I can’t respond fast enough. Sliding my lips down his hot length, I relax my throat until he hits the back. In response, Johnny sucks air between his clenched teeth, his grip on my hair tightening.
“Fuck that’s good.” Tipping his head back, he hums his approval. “Tighter. Deeper. I want to know satisfying my cock is more important to you than your next breath, Dr. Brennan.”
My lungs are burning, but I don’t care. My jaw aches, but it’s not important. His taste, his smell, his sound—all fuel me as I bob up and down on his cock.
“Christ, your mouth, Doc. It’s…” Gritting his teeth, he bites out a string of curses. “It’s not enough. I need to fuck it. I won’t be gentle, Becca. If you say yes, I’m going to pin you to that chair and use you for my own pleasure, not yours. If that scares you, put a hand up right now.”
Again, it should, but it doesn’t.
Sliding my hands around his hips, I cup his ass and stare up at him.
Take it. Take me. Make all of me yours.
Johnny’s eyes darken to the blackest of nights. “Brave girl. Dirty girl. Foolish girl.” Rising from his reclined position, he pushes my chair back against the bookcase, then straddles it. Keeping his brutal hold around my hair with one hand, he fists his cock with the other. “Open your mouth.” My lips barely part before he shoves it inside, his hips pistoning into my mouth. “Yes…” he hisses, gripping the shelf above my head for leverage. “You’re my perfect fuck toy, aren’t you? You suck my cock like it was made for you.”
I can’t answer. I can’t even nod. All I can do is gag, my view of him distorted by tears.
“I’m going to come, Becca. I’m going to fill your fucking throat with so much cum, you’ll choke on it. Do you want that?” I blink, but visual acceptance isn’t enough for him. “Answer. Me!” he roars, his hips punctuating each word.
