Page 61 of Overdose
Her mouth crushes mine, bruising and breathless, as I fumble with my belt, my fingers working clumsily through lust and adrenaline. She doesn’t wait. Her hand slips down, takes over, popping the buckle with ease like she’s done it a hundred times in her head already.
Then she’s inside my jeans. Wrapping those slick little fingers around my cock and freezing.
“What the fuck?” she breathes.
She pulls me out, and there it is, laid bare in her palm. Thick. Veined. Pierced.
A row of silver bars gleaming along the underside of my shaft. Five in total. Evenly spaced. A full Jacob’s Ladder, each one catching the light and her attention in equal measure.
Her jaw drops. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
I smirk, cock twitching in her hand. She stares, wide-eyed, like she can’t decide whether to be horrified or impressed.
“Jesus, Dagger,” she mutters, fingers trailing up the ladder.
I lean in, mouth ghosting her ear. “This” —I thrust gently into her hand, letting the metal glide against her palm— “this is why you’re gonna lose your fucking mind when I’m inside you.”
She tries to play it cool. Really does. But her breath hitches. Her pupils blow wide. Her grip tightens like she wants to test every single bar.
And fuck me, I hope she does.
Because if she thinks my tongue drove her crazy, she hasno ideawhat’s coming.
I already know how much she loves that piercing—how she moaned the first time I dragged it over her clit, how her thighs clamped around my head when I flicked it just right. If that wrecked her,thisis gonna obliterate her.
“You good?” I ask, voice low.
Her hand strokes once—slow and curious. “You’re fucking insane.”
“Yeah,” I say, watching her line me up like she’s about to ruin herself on purpose. “And you’re about to love every second of it.”
She grips my cock—tight, reverent—and shifts her hips over me. Her eyes never leave mine as she lines me up at her soaked pussy, dragging the head through her slick, teasing herself on the ridges of the piercings like she already knows she’s about to come undone.
Her mouth parts. That bratty confidence faltering for just a beat.
Then she sinks down.
Inch by inch, her body swallows me—every silver bar, every goddamn vein—like she was made for this. Made forme.
A groan tears out of my throat, raw and low. I bite it back, but fuck, she’s tight.Tootight.
Hot. Slick. Wrapped around him like a velvet noose.
And those piercings?
Theydrag.
Each one catching on her soft inner walls just enough to make her hips jerk, just enough to rip a strangled moan from her throat as she bottoms out.
“Holyfuck,” she gasps, trembling on my lap like her legs are threatening to give out.
I grip her hips hard. Anchor her in place. Hold her there, stuffed full and pulsing.
Her breath hitches. Her nails dig into my shoulders like she doesn’t know whether to fight or beg.
I lean in, voice gravel-thick and sharp against her ear.
“You feel that?” I growl. “That’s whatrealaddiction feels like.”
