Page 217 of His To Erase
“You were made for this. Made to kneel for me with that pretty little mouth—and take every fucking inch like you were born for it.”
My head spins as my lungs burn. And I don’t care, because he’s right. He owns my mouth. Every breath. Every gag. Every broken sound I try and fail to swallow.
He pulls out with a wet pop, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking himself with brutal precision, and even as I’m left panting and drooling from the sudden emptiness—his fist tightens in my hair again, dragging my gaze up as he growls, “Stick out your tongue.”
The command slices straight through me as I tilt my chin, opening my mouth. He strokes himself, keeping his eyes locked on me like I’m the altar and he’s about to break—and when he does, it’s with a guttural snarl as he spills across my tongue, hot and thick, branding my lips, my face, and every shattered piece of my soul like I already belong to him.
“Fuck,” he growls, eyes fixed on the mess he’s made of me, watching it drip down my chin while his chest rises hard and fast, like the sight of me on my knees is undoing him all over again.
“You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice rough with reverence and wreckage. “Taking it all.”
My lashes flutter, as tears cling to what’s left of my mascara. His praise hits me like a drug, sliding under my skin before I can stop it. It settles between my legs and stays there.
Good girl.
The words echo in my chest—ones I didn’t even know I’d been starving to hear. And fuck me, I want to earn them again.
God. Who knew?
I’d take everything he wants to give me, I’d crawl to him again in a heartbeat if he asked me to. I’d let him use me like this a hundred more times if it meant hearing him call me that again.
My body is still trembling, lips parted and slick with the mess he left behind when his hand slides down, fingers curling beneath my jaw.
“Open.”
I do, because there’s no version of me that won’t do what he says. Not anymore. Not after this. I belong to this moment. To him.
He drags his thumb across my lips, smearing his release, and pushes it between my teeth.
“Swallow it,” he rasps, eyes locked on mine. “Every last drop.”
I obey. How could I not?
My cheeks hollow around his thumb and the taste of him spreads across my tongue.
“Good fucking girl,” he breathes. His voice is so low it’s almost reverent.
And I melt for him.
His voice drops to a whisper. “Now bend over. I’m not fucking done with you yet.”
My breath catches, and before I can blink, he’s yanking me to my feet—turning me, pressing me down over the counter like he’s staking a claim. This is obviously his favorite position.You’re not going to find me complaining about it either.
The edge bites into my hips as my palms scramble for grip on the cold surface. It’s just the right amount of pain and pleasure to keep me right on the edge.
“You’re mine,” he growls behind me.
And then slams into me. I scream and the sound ricochets through the kitchen as he fucks me like it’s punishment.
The edge of the counter digs deeper with every thrust, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is him. All I can hear is the sound of his body slapping into mine like he’s trying to fuck the air from my lungs.
“Is this what you needed? He whispers against my ear, one hand wrapping tight around my throat.
“Is this what gets you wet, pretty girl? Getting used like a toy.”
I couldn’t answer even if I wanted to, but my body answers for me. My back arches, and I push out my ass, right into his next thrust, and I clench around him like he’s the only thing keeping me alive.
“I’m gonna fuck him out of you,” he growls. His voice is coated in venom and heat. “Every place he touched you? I’m taking it back. With my cock. With my mouth. With my fucking name burned into your bones.”
