Page 47 of Sinister Legacy
My thighs shake while he sucks me like a fucking pro.
I pull his short hair, too fucking aroused to make this last.
That’s the thing about Kit. I can’t control myself when he’s on his knees in front of me.
The sight itself is so fucking erotic.
The way he looks up at me with his dark eyes that glint with a sparkle of amusement at seeing me so pent up.
But fuck… Kit has no idea how hot he is with his mouth full of my dick. And that silver ring on his thumb as he strokes my veiny cock.
I don’t know what it is about that ring. But one thing is for sure: Kit has nice, masculine hands.
“Fuck, Kit,” I grunt. “Suck me just like that.”
He takes me down his throat, the way he knows makes me weak at the knees. My skin breaks out in a cold sweat.
I’m so fucking close.
I’ve been sucked off by a lot of girls, but none of them have gone down on me with half as much enthusiasm as Kit. It’s wet, sloppy, and fucking noisy. He’s on a mission to suck my soul from my body.
“Dammit,” I grunt as my hips jerk.
I try to hold it off, but it’s fucking impossible when he handles me like he was born to suck dick.
My balls draw up tight as pleasure pools low in my stomach. I come down his throat, biting back curses.
Rising to his feet, Kit makes a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You look a little flustered.”
The amusement in his voice makes my lips twitch. I roll my head on the back wall as I button my jeans back up. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Trust me,” he chuckles. “I enjoyed it a fucking lot.”
I fish a lighter and my packet of cigarettes from my pocket, biting one out. Kit watches me light it. I hold the packet out. “Want one?”
“I better go back inside.”
The embers crackle as I inhale a breath, watching him through the curling smoke. “Alright.”
He slinks back inside, and I exhale a sigh before bringing the cigarette back to my lips. Kit has never allowed me to make him come. He seeks me out to suck me or jack me, and then he leaves. He’ll let me paint him in my cum, but he never wants me to return the favor.
And they say women are complicated.
I take a final drag and then crush the cigarette beneath my boot. The TV surround sound is loud. And from what I can hear, my friends are watching a car chase or something similar.
I turn to go inside but pause as the clouds part to let the moonlight slip through. Something red dangles from a branch in one of the fir trees.
Tilting my head, I squint. I still can’t make out what it is, so I round the empty pool and walk across the sprawling lawn that’s covered in a layer of frost. The grass crunches beneath my shoes as the clouds slip in front of the moon. The light gets snuffed out. It’s too dark to see properly.
I retrieve my phone from my pocket, switch on the flashlight, and angle it toward the trees.
As I near, my steps slow. Dangling from the branch is a metallic, red devil’s mask.
I pull it down from the branch, brows knitted, and scan my flashlight over the forest. The silence is eerie out here, away from the blaring TV. Chills run down my spine as I scan the trees one more time before angling the flashlight at the mask. There’s something written inside it.
I squint, looking closer.
You’re next.
