Page 70 of Damnation
He grabs his erection, covering my hand, and starts rubbing it against my wet slit. He bumps my clit with the tip, sending me into ecstasy. “Where do you want it?” he asks. I bite my lip again, staring down at the cock moving between my thighs before I look back up at him.
“In my mouth,” I whisper, my lips touching his, completely shameless.
Thomas smiles. He covers my cheek with his hand, rubbing my lips with his thumb. He observes them, enraptured.
“Get on your knees,” he orders. I swallow loudly and moisten my lips. I pull my hair out of its elastic, because I know how much he likes it down, and I lower myself to the floor. I try to beat back some of the nervousness that pervades my body now that I’m about to do something I’ve never done before. I know I’m probably going to look inexperienced or maybe even clumsy in Thomas’s eyes, but I don’t care. I want to make him feel good. I want to give him the most pleasure I possibly can and to give myself completely to him.
I look up at him through my eyelashes, and he looks back at me in such a savage way that it’s like he’s got the most sensual creature he’s ever seen right here in front of him. “I’ve wanted to feel those lips on my cock since the first time I saw you.” He threads his fingers through my hair. “Take me in your mouth and give me the best postgame reward I’ve ever gotten.”
Bolstered by his encouragement, I put my hand on his thigh for support. I open my mouth and run my tongue over his tip. Thomas grips my hair in his fist and chases my movements with his hips. His hoarse breathing echoes around the room as, with each thrust, I take more and more of him. “Holy shit, Ness, it’s…” I hear him groan as I lick him unceasingly, not even needing his hands to guide me now.
“It’s what?” I whisper, running my mouth along his entire length. A tortured sound issues from his throat.
“It’s fantastic.” With every movement of my tongue, Thomas’s legs tremble. “I want to feel you all way down,” he growls through gritted teeth. A hot burst of desire rushes through me from head to toe. Though I’m hindered a little by his size, I try to do as he asks. I lock my eyes on his as I relax the muscles of my throat, giving him the chance to do whatever he wants with me. He smiles sweetly at me, and then, with his hand gripping my hair tightly, he begins to fuck my mouth with vigor.
Moans of pleasure reverberate in his throat. I love having this kind of effect on him. I love feeling him lose control. I love watching him at the peak of pleasure with his head tossed back, eyes closed, and his mouth slightly open. But above all else, I lovehim. Captivated by all these feelings, I accept every one of his thrusts, and a hot gush soaks my inner thighs. The urge to touch myself, to soothe the heat that burns between my legs is becoming more intense, more desperate. I bring my fingers to my clit and start moving them in small circles. Thomas gropes my breast, pinching my nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger. He does it a second time and a third. Every nerve ending explodes as an ecstatic orgasm overwhelms me, shattering me. I squint my eyes, and for a moment, my knees turn watery. He holds my hair in an iron grip, urging me to keep going.
“I’m gonna come…” he gasps breathlessly. “If you don’t want to…” he mutters, his brow furrowed in an almost pained expression. I won’t take my mouth off him. I want to feel him burst inside me. I want to taste it. I shake my head, keeping my eyes on his because I want to watch him come apart and relish every part of him.
I continue sucking, never slowing until the hot, thick proof of hisorgasm pours right down my throat. “Fuck…” A sound of pure satisfaction comes out of his mouth, and a dizzying heat spreads through my body. I swallow every last drop while his fist in my hair continues to move as his orgasm winds down.
Still kneeling on the floor, I wipe the corner of my mouth and stare up at him, waiting for him to catch his breath. I’m suddenly nervous. Did he think it was good? I have no yardstick with which to measure, while he, on the other hand, has way too many.
Thomas lowers himself down to me. He’s panting. He’s all sweaty, disheveled hair and crimson cheekbones. He’s simply magnificent. He moves some damp strands of hair off my forehead and kisses me deeply, moaning into me, “Your mouth is gonna be the death of me.” That gets me up on my feet. He takes me in his arms and kisses me again, chasing away all of my insecurities. When he pulls back, however, I watch his expression turn serious and frowning.
“How many times have you done that?” He looks at me, waiting for an answer, while I think I might actually die of shame.
Why is he asking me this? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t actually like it.
“Just once…with you.” My voice comes out trembly and unsure. All my boldness is gone.
He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Bullshit.”
“No, it’s the truth,” I answer, embarrassed, wringing my hands and hoping to move quickly past this topic.
“How is that possible?” he demands.
I shrug, not sure what to say. “I’ve never felt the urge to do it with anyone before you.”
“Are you telling me that I was your first blowjob?” he says loudly, with all his innate refinement and a smug grin flitting around his mouth.
“That makes you feel pretty pleased with yourself, doesn’t it?” I move closer, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He smiles, absolutely full of himself. “So pleased.”
***
After we got ourselves back together, we left the room and headed downstairs with the full intention of having fun. Instead, we wound up sneaking away again to a different corner of the house, teasing and provoking each other like a couple of hormonal kids. I think I’ve developed a sort of “Thomas addiction.” The more I’m with him, the more I seem to need him. And when he’s not around, it feels like I’m going through withdrawal.
When our ardor seems to have finally cooled a bit, he gives me a pat on the butt, and we go back to the kitchen to get some more of that leftover pizza, which no one else has touched since we left. He sits me on the kitchen counter and positions himself between my legs.
“Have you decided anything about that dinner with your mother?” he asks me suddenly.
“No, not yet. Basically, there’s a part of me that wants to go. But I know her too well; she’s definitely going to end up saying or doing something that will make me feel bad. It’s always been like that between us. One step forward, ten steps back. Only, this time, I don’t think I have the strength to make it through another battle.”
“That doesn’t mean it has to happen that way. Maybe this time is the right time,” he suggests. It always surprises me to hear him trying to negotiate for a reconciliation between my mother and me. And it makes my heart ache a little bit too. He, more than anyone else, knows how painful a parent’s absence can be.
“If you want, I can be there,” he adds in the face of my silence, playing with the ends of my hair.
