Page 75 of Afterglow
While he stammers nonsense at the simple praise, I savor the control, the feeling of power over him. Retrieving more of the fluid from between my legs, I bite back a pleasured sound when spreading it over my nipple, then bend to hover over his open, waiting mouth.
He suckles, even hungrier, needier than before, his deep grumble vibrating deliciously through my breast as the hairs of his beard tickle its delicate skin.
I gasp. “Fletcher.”
“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he groans, words mashing together in a desperate mumble. “Sit on my fucking face already.”
“Ah, ah, ah.” The admonishment has his chin quivering. “Game’s not over yet.” My gaze reaches the chef’s knife resting on the nightstand, and my hand follows. The metallic hiss from a sole finger sliding across the broad blade’s spine seems to have the same effect on Fletcher. I rest it against his lips, silencing him for a moment before commanding him further. “Taste.” I scrape it gently across his bearded jaw and down his pretty, blushing throat. “What is it?”
A knot of raised tendon glides up and down the column of his neck. The pink tinting his skin reddens. “A knife.”
“Should I keep going?”
“Please.”
My heart thumps manically, measuring each reaction to the back of the blade dragging down his chest. A line across his collarbone has his nostrils flaring.
“Fu-f-fuuuuck.”
He whimpers when I flick the knife’s blunt edge over a pursed nipple, then lick and suck to lessen the sting. The repeated treatment on the other side elicits yet another whimper, strings of more pre-cum making a beautiful mess on his stomach. Sinews in his wrists and forearms strain against his bind as I continue, alternating a squiggling path of blade and nibbles through the muscles of his abdomen with the tip, careful not to nick or break the skin.
I take the blade between my clenched teeth, relishing the cold metal against my tongue before posting my hands into his chest. My body slides down, then straightens to see the result:gorgeous freckles dotting peachy skin, mottled in red lines and bite marks.
“Look at how shtunning you are,” I gush. “Worked yourself up into a filthy mess.”
“Please, Bea.” His plea is barely a whisper, and I grip his cock, positioning myself with a snake-like slither over the length without allowing entrance. He lets out a strangled simper. “Fuck me.”
I grind into it again and again, teasing myself until our moans blend.
“You like that?” His hips thrust, slipping the engorged crown of his cock over my clit with an unbelievable pressure. “You like soaking my cock with all that sweetness?”
My agreeing hum vibrates through the steel of the blade. I rock over him again.
“You like tormenting me?”
I confirm with another pleasured noise.
“‘Cause I fucking love it, Bea.” Fletcher gasps, the muscles on his hips flexing and showing off their perfectv. “I’m gonna come.”
I spit the knife and catch the black handle in my palm. “Not yet,” I say over the knife, lowering to remove myself and flanking the thick flesh of his thighs with my knees. Catching a glimpse of his tightened balls distracts me momentarily, and I bend to circle one with my tongue, then the other, the velvety skin starting to glisten with my spit. I mouth them and release when I gag, remembering my task and the object in hand.
The weighted handle warms in my grasp. I flip it a few times. Finally, the blunt spine meets his hardened cock, and I draw a line on the underside from the root, over the ridges and throbbing veins, and past the apex of his leaking slit. His hands turn to white fists, another tortured, guttural sound bellowing from him before I discard the knife onto the nightstand andclamber over him, the anticipation weakening my resolve by the minute.
“Bea,” he says through a needy whimper. “Goddamn it, fuck me already.”
I brace my hands against his chest once more. The smallest insertion of just the tip stretches me, and we both quickly suck in a gulp of air at the sensation.
“M-more,” he begs, hips tilting up, “need…to feel more…of you.”
My arms shake, my thighs shake,hell, my pussy shakes while taking his girth. It’s not possible for him to somehow be bigger than the last time, right? This is what you get for falling in love with a kinky, monster-dicked hockey player, Behraz. You’ve made this your cock, and now you have to sit on it. I switch the angle to slide down further, take him deeper. When I adjust and throw my hips back, Fletcher snaps like a whip, unintentionally driving his cock deep into me. It’s a harsh and sudden motion, and my mouth locks open with a shuddering moan.
“I know, gorgeous,” he grits through his teeth, “Iknow. It hurts. But you’re gonna make that tight cunt of yours take it all, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” It’s the only word I can remember right now. “Yes,” I repeat, getting into a rhythm. The slapping of my ass onto his hips is enough to drive anyone insane, but watching our bodies fuse is ethereal. And seeing how it cuts every flimsy thread of Fletcher Donovan’s restraint one by one is nothing short of a drug-addled ecstasy. I relish it, my eyes stretching as if trying to take in more of the moment, drunk with power and aching for an end to this torture.
The tandem orgasm reaches a precipice, each of our mixed moans and mewls and groans and screaming, flying by the point of no return. My vision goes white, starry in a flash of pleasured bliss.
There’s a stutter of his hips, the last rung of control cracking beneath me. The manic, uneven thrusts end as my walls clench, and I shiver through the high. He stills with a jolt, bowing off the bed as he releases warm cum into the deepest part of me, so full of his cock, nothing escapes.
