Page 55 of Twisted Little Game

I swat his hand away from my cock, and he lets it go, his eyes dancing over my face in confusion.

“That’s not how this is going to go,” I tell him.

My belt makes a clinking sound over him as I yank it open. I shove down my zipper and push my pants down, just enough to pull out my cock and let it bob above his face.

“Oh my God.”

I give it a few long, slow strokes.

“When you’re with me, you don’t make the rules. And you need to quit fucking lying.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

I peer down at him. “Are you really offering me your mouth just so you can go to a party? Or is it something else?”

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Roman.”

“Tell the truth⁠—”

“I want your cock because I fucking want you,” he finally says. “Is that what you want me to say? I want you every fucking time I see you, and it’s constant, and so goddamn irritating.”

I nod. “Good boy.”

I drop lower and push my tip against his soft lips.

My tip is glistening with precum, and it slides against his mouth, slicking his lips. He parts for me and I feel the warmth of his breath as he exhales and speaks.

So good.

So fucking good to finally feel that.

“This is how it will go. I’m going to fuck your mouth,” I tell him in a low tone, “and then you’re going to stay here with me. Not go to some random boy at a party.”

He moans softly as I push my tip over his lips again, much harder this time, and I claim his mouth as my own.

8

Tate

My senses flood in an overwhelming rush of stimulation. Every spark of touch from Roman’s fingers is enough to send my body to a place of pure and complete need, and as he pushes past my lips, it overtakes me completely.

His cock is so warm against my lips.

Completely intrusive.

Way too fucking thick for my mouth, and so goddamn heavy and wide that I feel like I could choke before he’s even completely inside.

It fills me from cheek to cheek, and I lap my tongue over the underside, feeling every ridge and vein pulse as I swirl over him.

Seeing him hovering over me in a straddle is enough of a fantasy on its own, and the moonlight shines across his tattooed chest like he’s some fallen, ancient warrior, kneeling on the ground above me.

Roman looks brutal.

Because he is.

He looks powerful, and dangerous, because he is.

His pants are still shoved down low around his thighs, with his fat cock spilling out over the top of them like his most prized possession as he slides it on my tongue. His clean, spiced scent fills my nostrils, and I breathe him in like I’m huffing something.