Page 81 of Show Me How
I take his instructions in stride. The tip of my tongue rolls along the black ball, swiping it side to side. Shade’s reaction isinstant. I whimper when both of his hands find my head, holding it in place.
“Just like that. That’s what feels best for me,” he moans, spreading his legs wider.
I take the words in stride and do it again, sucking gently as my tongue moves. Sneaking a breath, I open my mouth wider and lower it a few more inches. I swallow, the sensation unfamiliar. Shade doesn’t push as I try and work it out. His hands stay on my head, fingers threading through my hair.
Cautiously, I bring my tongue down the length of him. The small holes I noticed remind me of the missing piercings, and I grow fixated on them. My fingers strain around the rest of him as I try to move my mouth and fist in tandem.
“Focus on your mouth. Feels good, princess. Let it come to you naturally.”
My head goes heavy for a moment before I pull off him and breathe. I try not to look at the spit connecting us as I stay close, lips still parted.
“You have more piercings,” I whisper.
His brow twitches. He strokes my head. “Knew they would have been too much for you right now.”
“Will you show me sometime?” I ask, my core clenching in desperation. “Please?”
“Am I supposed to be able to deny you anything right now? Because I goddamn can’t.”
It’s a rough, almost frustrated question. I almost laugh, my lips lifting in a soft smile.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” he grunts, tapping my scalp before bringing me back toward his groin. “Try to smile with a mouthful of cock.”
I don’t bother. The moment I have him filling my mouth again, smiling is the last thing I care about. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, filling the silence as I suck in my cheeks and work myway back down his length. I don’t make it very far before I cough, pulling back just enough to catch a breath before repeating the motion. Frustration blooms when I still can’t make it farther than a few inches. That chafes and only encourages me to keep pushing past the invisible sensor I keep hitting.
Gagging, I open my mouth as wide as I can and pull off, scowling. My fingers are wet with saliva, but I ignore that as I try again. I pause, jaw aching, throat tight, angry at my own limits.
“Millie,” Shade groans, pulling my hair. “Jesus Christ. It’s okay. Deep-throating isn’t a natural ability for most people.”
“I want to do it,” I bite out, keeping him gripped in my hand.
“You’re going to kill me. I’m trying to?—”
I lick across his tip, swiping away the bead of liquid there. “Tell me how to do it.”
“Fucking hell. It’s not that simple.” His thighs clench so rigidly they quiver when I tongue his piercing, watching the way it moves inside of him.
“I’m ready,” I declare.
His laugh is strangled. “I’m fucking not.”
It’s not the answer I want, but it turns me on anyway. Something hot spreads through my core as I work him back into my mouth. My nostrils flare as I try this again, careful of the piercing. I palm his bare thigh, feeling the strong muscles and peppering of coarse hair over butterfly tattoos. My other hand remains around him, low and tight.
He sucks in a strangled breath when I force more of him inside than the times before. The piercing grazes the back of my tongue, then my throat. I struggle to push past the reflex that’s trying to shove him out of my mouth. My eyes water, and I scratch at his thigh as my body rejects this idea, too concentrated on not rearing back yet to pay much mind to anything else.
“Millie—Mill—” He cuts himself off with a raw groan, his cock growing harder in my hold. His fingers tighten in my hair almost painfully before he tries to move me away. “Stop. Pull off.Now.”
I furrow my brows. A hot flush of embarrassment hits me first, scolding me as I sputter off him, assuming I’ve done something wrong. My throat feels tight as discomfort falls over me like a wet blanket.
His release hits my cheek, sudden and hot, snapping me out of my daze as he groans.
“Fucking Christ, Millie. Too good. It’s . . .” He nearly slurs the words, releasing my head and covering the hand I still have tight around him, keeping it in place. “Shit.”
I watch in awe, withdrawing my nails from his thigh as he comes. More of it pulses from the tip, coating my hand and his groin as he rolls his jaw and squeezes my hand just once. I’m unable to move, struck stupid on my knees, my fingers warm and wet.
Shade releases my hand, breaking eye contact first when he looks down. He uncurls my fingers one by one.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says tightly, breathless.
