Page 22 of My Masked Savior
I thread my fingers through her hair, gripping tight enough that her scalp pulls. Her eyes flutter closed.
“Eyes on me.”
They snap open—dark, glassy, pupils blown wide.
“Good girl.” I guide my cock to her lips, dragging the head across them. “Open.”
Her mouth parts, and I push inside. Hot. Wet. Her tongue flattens against the underside, and I groan when she licks around my piercing.
“Fuck. Just like that.”
She takes me deeper, hollowing her cheeks, and the suction makes my thighs clench. I watch her lips stretch around my girth, the way her throat works as she adjusts to my size.
“You look perfect like this.” I rock my hips slowly, testing her limits. “On your knees for me.”
She moans around my cock, and the vibration shoots straight up my spine.
I pull back, then thrust deeper. Her hands brace against my thighs, nails digging into muscle. Not stopping me—steadying herself.
“Take more.”
She does. Inch by inch, until I hit the back of her throat and she gags slightly. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away.
“That’s my princess.” I hold her there for a beat, then ease back. “Breathe.”
She gasps, saliva connecting her lips to my cock, and the sight nearly breaks me.
“Again.”
This time she controls the pace, bobbing her head, tongue working the sensitive ridge beneath the crown. Her right hand drops between her thighs, and I catch the movement.
“You touching yourself?”
She nods, eyes locked on mine.
“Let me see.”
She shifts her knees wider, and I can just make out her hand moving beneath her jeans. The sight—Morgan sucking my cock while pleasuring herself—makes my balls draw tight.
“That’s it. Make yourself feel good while you take care of me.”
Her rhythm quickens, both her mouth and her hand. Small desperate sounds escape around my cock, and I’m close. Too close.
“Fuck, Morgan?—”
The pressure builds at the base of my spine, coiling tighter. I pull out before I lose control completely.
Her lips are swollen, red. Slick with saliva.
I haul her up by her arms and walk her backward to the couch, hands already working the button of her jeans.
“My turn.”
I shove the denim down her hips, taking her underwearwith it. She kicks them off, and I push her back onto the cushions, spreading her thighs wide.
The scent of her arousal hits me, and my mouth waters.
“Let me taste what’s mine.”
