Page 94 of Trouble from Abroad
And yet, underneath that possessive fire, something deeper flickers—because any man lucky enough to know hershould be left speechless. Sharing a laugh with her is more than enough. No blow jobs required.
I haul my mind back to the present, to the blue hunger staring up at me. Waiting.
“You’ve seen me, felt me. Now open for another taste, baby.”
That wicked smile, right before she licks her lips, makes my balls tighten.
Her flat tongue drags over the head of my cock, slowly. First the slit, then a circle around the crown. My eyes slam shut.
“I really,reallylike how you taste.”
“Ditto, baby.”
“Should I suck now?” she asks between licks.
I huff a laugh rather than beg.
“Mia, you’ve got my cock in your hands and mouth. You can do no wrong, baby. Believe me.”
Her lashes frame the intent in her eyes, and she opens her mouth wide, staring straight at me. I watch entranced as she sticks her tongue out, my cock growing impossibly harder in her grip.
Yep, she fixed me, all right.
She takes me—what she can—in one go. Her eyes flutter close, and she exhales through her nose with a soft, aching sound. She releases me with a pop and looks up.
“But I like when you talk to me. I want you to talk methrough it.And I want to know howyoulike it.”
That’s more like it.Me. Not other men. There’s just the two of us here.
“Start with the tip. Lick it good. Lots of spit.”
Mia doesn’t hesitate. Her tongue moves over me, hot and wet, thorough enough that my legs question whether they can survive the lesson. Of course she’d crush this. Mia always strives for excellence.
I gather her hair into a fist, a makeshift ponytail. I need a clear view of that hungry mouth. And a little leverage never hurts.
“Wanna unleash that porn star in you? Spit on it, baby. Get it nice and wet. Show me your mess, pretty girl. Make it shine for me.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I wonder if I pushed too far. But when I see her enthusiasm double with my cock between her lips, every last filter goes up in smoke.
Without missing a beat, Mia lowers my cock and lets a slow string of spit fall onto the tip. It lands messy and perfect, glistening. Then she drags her tongue over the crown, spreading it around.
My hips jerk, and I twitch against her grip. Control leaves me in a broken, breathless, “Fu-u-u-ck.”
She's acing this. Honors-level.
Out loud this time, I say, “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good. I could come right now, did you know that?”
Her eyes, those wide, tell-it-all eyes, plead with me not to, and I chuckle. “Don’t worry. I won’t. Not yet. We’re going to make this lesson last.”
Damn. That might’ve been my first lie to Mia. Or at the very least, a promise I’m not entirely sure I can uphold.
My star pupil, full of initiative, trails spit down my length in long strokes. “And now?” she asks.
“Now that you got me covered in your spit, you can start taking me in.” She’s already moving before I finish the sentence. “Slow, baby. No rush. Breathe through your nose. If you need more air, stop and take it.”
Please. Please, stop and take it, or I’ll be done for.
“Get used to it. Any inch you get inside that hot little mouth of yours is a gift.” I pause, for my sanity and some air. “One I haven’t earned yet.”
