Page 59 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
Our gazes stay connected as I lower my mouth to his tip, pausing just a fraction of an inch away and wetting my lips with my tongue. It brushes against him, and he groans, pushing me down and sliding into my mouth. My teeth just barely graze him as he enters my throat, hips lifting up off the chair so that it creaks.
My right hand stays where it is, fisting around him so that when he thrusts into me, he doesn’t go too deep into my throat. My nails tap and tease, tracing across his skin as I bring my other hand up and heft the heavy weight of his balls against my palm.
My eyes flick to his yet again, but when I find him watching me, I close them. I don’t want to see that, the intense heat of his stare. Crown’s grip on my hair is firm, but his fingertips massage my scalp, encouraging me to take more of him, to draw him deeper into my throat.
The fire crackles behind us, casting a warm glow over the scene. Me on my knees, Crown in the armchair, the bookshelves towering over us on two sides.
“Move your hand,” he commands, just after I start to feel his thighs tensing on either side of me. Without waiting for me to comply, he reaches down and removes my right hand, guiding my head down on his shaft with his left. This is only my second time going down on a guy, but I’ve seen enough blow jobs in my time that I’m aware of how difficult this really is. You don’t just deepthroat a dude for fun; it takes finesse.
Inhaling through my nose, I relax my throat and fight my natural gag reflex, letting Crown guide my head the way he wants it. Up and down, up and down, deep, deep, deep.
“Oh, fuck, Gidge,” he murmurs, lifting his hips until he hits the back of my throat. “Right there.” Crown fucks my mouth, keeping my head still with his hand in my hair, lifting his pelvis up to meet my face. The closer he gets to coming, the tighter the muscles in his legs get, the stronger his grip on my hair. His last few thrusts are hard, almost brutal, and then he’s spilling hot seed into the back of my throat, pumping until his balls are empty, and collapsing back into the chair.
I gasp as he slides out of my mouth, swallowing and running my hand across my lips.
Crown doesn’t waste a second in grabbing me under the armpits and hauling me into his lap. I can hear the thundering of his heart as he presses a kiss to the edge of my hairline. The softness of his touch in contrast to the demanding way he just fucked my mouth is startling, but in a good way. In a way that makes me believe that there are butterflies in my belly instead of bats, that romance is real, that Crown actually gives a shit about me.
“Take your clothes off, sweet girl. All of them. Now.” He releases me after a moment and I scramble to my feet, pausing when I remember that I’m not the same Gidget from before, the one with pretty legs and perfect skin. This is … I’m different now. Crown notices my hesitation and lifts a brow in question. “Don’t tell me you obeyed just long enough to suck my dick? The rest of the night was going to be for you.”
“I just …” I start, but then I remember the way Giulia taunted me, shamed me, humiliated me. Or at least she tried to. I won’t let her ugly words weasel into my brain. With a lift of my chin, I slide my sweater over my head first, wincing a bit as the bandage pulls against my wound. I then slip the straps of my bra over my shoulders, spin it, unclasp it, let it fall.
The way Crown’s expression shifts when he sees my breasts … I find myself closing my eyes and shifting slightly, just to rub my thighs together, just to feel some friction where I need it most.
“More, Gidge. All of it.” He leans forward, watching me hungrily, his hands clenched around the arms of the chair so hard that he’s leaving dents in the fabric. “Show me what you did when you wrecked my bike.” He sits back up and gives me an annoying smirk. “Maybe we should go find my new one and you can thank me on the back of it the way you did before?”
I curl my lip at him, reaching my hands down to my jeans.
“The only part of the whole mess that I’m sorry about is the bike,” I murmur, undoing my pants and then taking a deep breath before shoving them down with my panties, revealing the ruined skin on my legs. The spot on my thigh that was infected is the roughest spot, a dip where the skin should be smooth. I assume over time that the scars will fade a bit more, but even if they don’t …
