Page 74 of The Hunted
Holy—
His knees fucking buckled. “Don’t toy with me, Silva.” His voice felt foreign to his own ears. His control slipping inch by inch the longer he kept his eyes on her.
Her smile was pure wickedness. The mischievous glint in her mismatched eyes told him she knew exactly who held the power in this dynamic.
She knew how easily she could bring him to his knees.
The thing inside of him that itched to kill flared to life, not enjoying being the only predator in the room. It watched her with narrowed eyes, waiting to see exactly what she would do.
Which was a first for him.
It usually urged him to attack first. There was that sensation of wrapping his hands around her throat until those bright eyes dimmed, but it wasn’t as strong as the need to feel his cock inside of her mouth.
“Silva,” he growled, reaching for her hair, “open your fucking mouth.” He could hear the tatters of his control breaking.
“Say please.” She licked the underside of his dick and he swayed. “Beg me, Santino.” Another lick. “Beg me to let you fuck my face.”
Her voice was deceptively sweet. He closed his eyes, breathing through his mouth. His heart was a thunderstorm as she continued to stroke him, her grip on him tightening with each slide down.
“Do you want me to swallow your cock, Santino?” she purred. The sound made him twitch in her hands. “Or are you content to let me stroke you like this, using your pre-cum to keep you slick instead of my mouth?”
His eyes rolled. His grip on her hair tightened. She continued to smile up at him as she jerked him off with slow, torturous, strokes.
“Spit on it, princess. If you won’t give me your mouth the least you can do is get it a little wetter for me.” He watched her shift on her knees and her eyes widened. She wasn’t as in control as she wanted him to believe.
They were both toying with each other, pushing each other to see who would break first. He hoped it would be her, but he was man enough to admit that it actually might be him.
He brought his other hand to caress the side of her face before tilting her chin up. He felt like a God the way she watched him and held his cock. From the outside he could see how it would look like he held all the power here—as if she were the one worshipping him. But even on her knees she had the ability to break him.
“Please, princess. Let me fuck this sweet mouth of yours.” His voice was thick with need and something he didn’t quite understand for himself.
“Good boy, Santino,” she murmured before opening her mouth wide to take him in.
He grunted, letting her set the pace. Her mouth was too small for his girth. It would have been a problem for anyone else and partly why he hated this act of intimacy, but not with Silva. She relaxed, used her saliva and hands to help guide him into her. The sensation made his whole body shake.
“Fuck, princess.” He had to hold himself back from pulling out of her to ram it back in. “Your mouth feels as good as your pussy does.”
She hummed around him at the praise. Her eyes rolling, and he watched as one hand slipped between her legs. “Are you touching yourself while I feed you my cock?” She moaned. The sound sent little electrical shocks to his balls.
“Is it making you wet having my cock in your mouth, tasting the mess we made earlier?” She took him deeper. Her tongue teasing the little vein on the underside of his dick. It was sensitive, causing him to shoot up to his toes and drive himself deeper into her mouth.
She gagged and he pulled back, just enough to watch the trail of saliva form from the bottom of her lip to the tip of his cock. Her mismatched eyes watered, and he shoved himself back in none too gentle, wanting to hear that sound again, wanting to see how pretty her tears were with her eye color.
“Can I?” He locked his other hand in her hair and waited for the slight nod she gave him. “Open up and keep playing with your pussy.”
He didn’t wait for her to comply. He pulled out and slammed back in, losing himself to the feel of her. It was like being inside of her pussy again, but this felt wholly different. It wasn’t better or worse, just different.
He groaned, getting drunk on the sounds she was making. His head fell back, getting lost to the rhythm they were making.
How had he gone this long without entertaining the thought that sex could get better?
Maybe I was just waiting for my princess.
The thought shook him. He never wanted to keep the women or men he entertained. They were all a means to an end for him. An addition to the masks he wore. If he kept them around just long enough, no one questioned his connections in the world, and because he was a man—regardless of his age—it wasn’t suspicious that he never settled down.
And that always worked for him.
But now, looking down into one brown and one blue eye, while her soft lips wrapped around his cock, he couldn’t imagine going without her—without feeling like this.
