Page 18 of PortCity Killers

He added another, making me gasp at the delicious stretch. I pressed further into him, practically climbing up his damn body as I wiggled in his grasp.

Both his fingers crooked, hitting that one spot, the one that made me bite him every time. He took my teeth without flinching, a grunt coming from his mouth as he pressed his hips into the counter. His hard length strained against his jeans, poking the inside of my thigh.

I ground against him again, breath catching in my throat as that tight sensation in my lower belly felt like it was about to explode.

Bryce pulled his fingers away before I could register anything else, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth where my desperate cry was ripped from my throat.

“Now we’ll both just have to wait until you come back until either of us can come.”

He didn’t give me time to respond, simply lifted his hand, his two fingers sliding in my open mouth. My lips closed around the intrusion instinctively, moaning as I tasted the salt of Bryce and my own arousal slicking on my tongue.

I thought I could cry, well and truly lay myself out until there was nothing left; instead, I bit down on his fingers.

He cursed, a dark laugh filling the room when I didn’t let go. His free hand came to my throat pinning me back against the mirror behind me. I didn’t unhand him, leaning back on my elbows, back bowed.

I could feel how hard he was between us as he pressed his body further into mine and I ground against him, like it would relieve the tension that had built up in me.

“You can keep going, baby, cum on my jeans and then lick it clean off of me, or you can let go of my fingers and take your punishment like a good little girl. If you’re very good, when you get back, I’ll let you touch yourself while I fuck your face for being such a spoiled whore,” He tightened his fingers around my neck, and I felt a pleasant buzzing fill my head. “What do you say?”

I nodded, my eyes glazing over at the thought of having him fuck my face the same way he fucked all my other holes: hard, fast, and deep.

I imagined the cum running down my throat as he held my head and immediately opened my mouth licking up his fingers like I could soothe the little puncture marks on his fingers with just my tongue.

He made a humming sound in the back of his throat, “You going to be nice to daddy, now?”

I nodded, my tongue pressing flat against him one more time before I stuck my tongue out, waiting. He shook his head, heat flashing in his eyes, but I didn’t move, and he didn’t let go of my throat.

He grumbled, pulling me closer to him by the grip he had.

“You think you deserve it, little whore? Only good girls get daddy’s spit.”

I tilted my head back further, whimpering low. My hands shook as I held onto his wrist, gently caressing the thin skin there. I widened my eyes, giving him the best pout I could with my tongue still hanging out of my mouth.

I felt the drool starting to collect, but didn’t move, knowing he would like to see it fall onto my naked lap. His growl said I was right, and he smiled at me, amusement and heat fighting in his eyes.

“You’re a filthy fuckingbrat, do you hear me?”

I smiled, tongue ready and waiting.

When he spit into my mouth I moaned, hands tightening around his wrist, “You’re a sick little fuck, you know that?”

I swallowed as he released me, my head laying against his shoulder again. I knew it. He knew it. Half of PortCity probably knew it.

“But I’m your sick little fuck.”

He laughed, “Yeah, and don’t fucking forget it, baby.”

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