I flatten my tongue and glide it up his shaft, giving myself asecond to catch my breath as I lick around his head, tasting him and giving him a few jerks. He releases a shaky breath and lets me play and experiment with him for a minute. I lick and tease and test and see what makes his breath hitch or him move differently or even tug harder on my hair.
Then I get cocky. Pun intended this time. I take him deep again, and he swats my hand away and holds me down on his cock, using my hair to keep me in place. His cock is huge. That part actually wasn’t a joke. Him fitting inside me is a legit concern. Especially given how big he feels in my mouth, how stretched my lips are around him. I choke, tears instantly stinging my eyes, but his other hand strokes my face, and his words calm me.
“Breathe through your nose. That’s it. That feels so good.Fuck, Brae. Your hot little mouth on my cock is incredible. Remember what I said about your hands. If you need me to stop, I will.”
My eyes close and I force myself to relax, breathing through my nose as he instructs. Then he uses the hand in my hair and on my face to start pumping in and out of my mouth. His cock slams into the back of my throat over and over, and I swallow reflexively, making him moan low and long.
He goes five or six times before he pulls back so I can breathe, but he never leaves my mouth. He just slows his pace. My eyes open and he’s right there watching me. Something about his heat and lust and intensity has me putting my hands behind my back, my fingers intertwining, gripping, so I can allow him to lead.
It sets him off with a loud, “Fuck,” followed by a “You perfect girl.”
Then that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s fucking my face. Repeatedly. I can’t control it. I just work to keep my tongue flat and try to shield my teeth, but I definitely scrape him with them. It’s impossible not to. It doesn’t bother him. If anything,he gets off on the flash of pain. It’s a pounding, relentless pace. Pump, pump, pump, breathe. One hand, he keeps in my hair to work his dick. The other cups my throat again, feeling the muscles move. And while this should be the ultimate turn-off, a man taking his pleasure from me like this, it’s the opposite.
I feel owned and sacred to him. Like a fucking goddess.
Probably because of how he’s reacting. How much he loves it. The filthy and incredible things he’s saying to make me wetter and wetter. But also because this is Roman and I know he’d rather die than hurt me. He’d never do anything I was uncomfortable with. If I raised my hand or patted his leg, he would stop in a second.
That’s power.
“Yes. Like that. So fucking good. Damn. You have no clue. No fucking clue how many times I’ve dreamed of you on your knees for me.”
I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. Like everything about this encounter with him, I’m shocked stupid and silent. I can’t make sense of it. It feels like a contradiction, but at the same time, one I’m happy about. And we won’t discuss my knees because I wouldn’t be shocked if I have bruises on them from the tile.
That thought is only magnified when he hits a brutal pace, going deeper until he’s literally down my throat, and breathing through my nose doesn’t mean shit because oxygen won’t move past his cock in my trachea. I gag and sputter and drool and swallow. My hands grip each other, and I fight the need to tap out.
“Holy shit. Ah! Fuck. Holy shit.”
It’s that. The way he’s losing himself somehow keeps me going, and I swallow again, managing a bit of oxygen as I do. But the swallowing is driving him headfirst to the edge of reason, and that’s exactly where I want him.
“Braelyn, I’m gonna…” A grunt. “If you don’t want me to…”
He can’t even finish that. But I don’t care because I know he’s trying to warn me, and I want it. He fucks my face, and I swallow and swallow until his head flies back and with a roar, he comes with a jerky thrust and a tight vise in my hair. He comes straight down my throat, and there is no choice but to swallow that too.
The moment he’s done, I’m suddenly pulled up into his arms and he’s holding me and kissing me and praising me in a way no one ever has. No one’s ever kissed me after they’ve come down my throat either, and I love that he’s unafraid to do that.
His forehead presses to mine, and he holds my face.
“We both need a shower. I dove into the ocean today.”
“I’m sitting naked on you.”
He smiles and pecks my lips. “I noticed that.”
“I can tell. You’re already getting hard again.”
His fingers trace along my face. “A magnificent feat, considering how hard you just made me come.”
“I didn’t tap out.”
He wraps his arms around me and holds me against him, kissing my hair and face and lips. “You have to promise me that if you need to, you will. I don’t want you to do something for me that doesn’t make you feel good in return.”
“I won’t.”
He kisses my forehead. “You were incredible.”
“I know.”
His lips twitch against me. “So confident.”