Page 22 of If You Go
I tug on the long strands on the back of his head and he moves his face backward, temporarily removing his mouth from mine. I am half his size, but it is so easy to maneuver him, as if I were the one who is double his size. I have never felt more powerful, honestly.
I trail my lips across his cheek and over to his ear, licking the outer shell and blowing lightly. He begins to turn and walk more into the center of the room before I am disconnected from him entirely when he throws me into the air. For a moment, I am weightless, looking at the man who tossed me, until I land on his soft bed. It smells of whiskey, soap, and leather.
He wastes no time climbing on top of me, his large muscles caging me in as he puts an elbow on either side of my head and uses his muscular thighs to spread mine. He presses his groin into me through our pants, and that is when I feel it. Hard. Heaving. Straining against my inner thigh. He is just as ready as I am, but I am not sure if I am going to be able to accommodate the enormous size of him. My eyebrows jump at the thought, my heart missing a beat.
He moves one elbow down, running his fingers along my face, down my neck, and onto my collar bone, before encircling my throat with his hand. Not tight, I can still breath, his hand barely a whisper on my sensitive skin. He is looking into my eyes, and then he gently places a light kiss on my lips before pulling away again, squeezing the sides of my throat ever so slightly, before loosening once again.
“Do you like to be choked, Siren?”
And I have no idea what I expected him to say, but that wasn’t it. The words sink into me like a hook. Siren. My green eyes. I’ve never had anyone compare me to a mythological creature before, but I kind of like it. Sirens are known for singing men to their doom, before eating them. And I know I would love to swallow him…
“I—I…” My throat dries.
His grip tightens just slightly once more, sending a bolt of heat down to my core. My thighs clench, tightening around his hips that are pressed against me. My cheeks flame.
“I need you to say it,” he rasps. He has a look in his eye that reminds me of a feral animal that has been caged. Barely contained, and once let loose, will destroy everything around it. Who said asking for consent was boring. Because this is anything but.
“Yes.” My voice cracks, but it’s enough. I don’t even know why I said yes. I have never been choked when it wasn't forced. I should have said I don’t know, but then again, I’ve never beenaskedeither. But it seems my vagina is also doing the talking tonight. The only times I have ever been choked were not during sex. Never. I never let any other man get close enough to me to even ask that since I left Gavin. And Gavin never choked me during sex. He barely looked at me, always flipping me so my face was buried in the bed as he pushed down on the back of my head.
And I don’t know how I know, but I’ve known since the second he grabbed my arm that if I had said no, he would stop.Five minutes ago, or five minutes from now, I know it in my gut.
“Fuck,” he groans, and I feel his hips shift against my pussy, lining up his cock near my entrance. That is when I decide there are far too many articles of clothing between us. “You look beautiful in pink.”
My pussy weeps as he kisses me hard, tongue sliding against mine. My hips buck, chasing friction. He groans into my mouth, grinding down with his cock, knowing exactly where to push and rub.
Just as quickly as it began, he sits up on his knees and looks down at me, tattoos flexing across every line of muscle on his chest. My eyes drink him in—scars, ink, the sheer size of him. I reach up to touch his chest, and run my fingers along his chest hair, raising goose bumps everywhere I touch.
Without warning, he reaches down and yanks me up by the throat, without ever cutting off my air, unhooks my bra, and slides it away. He lays me back down on the bed with a light toss and leans over me once more, scooting lower, before his mouth latches onto my nipple, sucking hard, teeth scraping.
“Oh my God!” I screech in heavenly bliss. I can’t control my volume.
His hand pinches my other nipple, pulling, rolling, twisting. Pain tangled with pleasure until I can no longer tell which is which. I reach my hands up and tangle them in his hair, my hips rising to only find air between them.
He lets go of my nipple and moves his face slightly to look up at me. “I don’t know why you’re crying out to God. It’s just me in here, Siren.”
I let out a frustrated growl and lie back until he pulls my sensitive peak between his lips once more, and I move my fingers down his head to his shoulders. I rake my fingernails down his shoulders and arms, leaving trails. He groans into my breast, his body beginning to vibrate.
He releases my nipple with a wet, audible pop that sends shivers racing across my skin. His lips trace a burning path down my trembling stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. When he reaches the waistband of my jeans, his fingers work the button with practiced precision, the zipper's metallic hiss cutting through our heavy breathing. He peels the denim and my soaked panties down my thighs inch by torturous inch, exposing my aching center to the cool bedroom air. I gasp, back arching involuntarily when his hot tongue parts my slick folds, the electric touch against my swollen bud making my vision blur before sitting back up to focus on fully undressing me.
After wrestling my jeans past my ankles along with my mismatched socks, he flings everything carelessly aside, his eyesnever leaving mine as he grips my knees with strong, possessive hands, positioning my feet firmly on the rumpled sheets.
He looks at me, waiting to see if I make any objections. I shift my hips, silently asking for more contact, and he accepts that as my answer. He lowers his face once again, his beard tickling my inner thighs, and begins to feast on me. His tongue dips once again into my swollen lips, and begins to flick my clit, causing my hips to buck. The immediate pleasure that courses through me is something that should be studied.
I reach down and rethread my fingers through his hair. I pull slightly, which only serves to egg him on. He increases his ferocity, moving lower and entering me with his tongue, and I think my soul might have left my body the moment his tongue entered it. Feeling him move inside me brings me quickly to an edge I haven’t felt in quite some time. Maybe, ever. He must sense it, and his pace continues to increase, now thrusting into me with his tongue. My moans are becoming much louder and erratic, my breathing near hyperventilating, until I begin to see stars, and my head falls back, and I hold onto his hair for dear life. The scream that leaves me probably woke neighbors in the next building, but I can’t bring myself to care.
He continues his ministrations until my walls cease pulsing around him, and I let go of his hair. He removes his tongue from me and sits up on his knees.
“Fuck, Surry. That might have been the best meal I have ever had in my entire life.” He uses the pads of his large fingers to wipe his beard before placing each one in his mouth and sucking off the wetness. That has to be the hottest thing I have ever seen.
He then stands, and I realize he is still in his sweats. Grey sweats. Every girl's favorite article of clothing any man can own. And seeing the absolute monster that is in no way concealed inside has my eyes popping open wider than I thought possible.There is no way that thing can fit in me. He senses my eyes and smirks at me when I make eye contact again.
Smirk still on his face, he turns to his left and walks toward his nightstand. Picking up his phone, he pushes a few things and a sound bar under the TV across the room lights up before music begins to play. A song I am not familiar with turns on, but it is obviously music someone would pull up if they searchbaby making music. I have to say, I’m a fan. Before returning to me he reaches his hand into his bedside draws and pulls out a small square.
He saunters back over to the bed and stands before me, the lighting in the room enhancing the cut abs running down his front, giving him an almost eerie look about him.
Standing there looking down on me, he looks like a god from those smutty books women read, before reaching both hands to his waistband. Before I know it, he is lowering his sweats until his cock pops free.
I take it back. My pussy will fit whatever the fuck I tell her to fit.
