Page 121 of Anger

The same thing he did to me, hopefully.

His dick hits the back of my throat, and I fight not to sputter and choke. Pulling back, I push forward again, forcing my throat to vibrate around him. His fingers grip tighter, my scalp beginning to burn.

But I don’t mind the pain.

Not when a growl erupts from his throat, the flat of my tongue sliding up the shaft, the tip of my tongue teasing.

“Fuck…”

He comes in my mouth, a hot, salty, liquid that I swallow down as my hands slide up the back of his thighs to hold him place. I keep pumping my head, enjoying every aftershock that shakes his body.

When his body goes still and his cock softens, I sit back on my feet and look up at him while using the back of my hand to wipe away the saliva.

Damon stares down at me in shock, red coloring his cheeks from the orgasm.

“Woman…” he warns, shaking his head, his fingers releasing my hair. “That’s not what riding means.”

“You still liked it, though. So what’s the difference?”

I liked it, too. It was my first time doing that to a man, and I never imagined it would feel so good.

I like Damon’s taste.

It lingers on my tongue.

He reaches down, and I accept his hand for him to pull me to my feet. Using his body to crush mine against the wall, he shakes his head.

“That wasn’t our agreement.”

“I had a third question you didn’t answer. So we’ll call that a favor. Your terms, remember?”

He steps back from me and tucks his dick away then buttons and zips his jeans.

“I guess you’re paid up.” His voice sounds almost regretful and sad.

The energy in the room changes, an abrupt shift that sends chills down my spine as goose bumps erupt on my skin. Damon won’t look my direction—instead, he assesses the room, distance growing between us as he moves about.

I remain naked, just standing in place wondering what happened.

“Was I not supposed to do that?”

Damon flicks a glance my way but won’t give me his full attention.

“It was incredible, Blue. But we have a problem.”

He grabs the crop from the bench where he left it then slowly taps it against his leg.

Confusion douses me, a million questions bouncing and colliding, doubts and suspicions jumping in to dance within it.

Squatting down, I grab my clothes from the floor then push to my feet to get dressed. Suddenly, I feel more exposed than ever.

I feel tossed away.

Used…

“What problem?”

The tapping becomes faster, his fingers tightening over the handle of the crop until the red wounds over his knuckles darken.

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