Page 145 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
“Yes, such a good little thing,” I hissed at her as I clutched her tighter, fucked her harder just to hear her gag and moan. “Take all of my cock in that tight throat.”
She shifted then and I realized her hips were rocking slightly, seeking friction she couldn’t find.
“If I touched your cunt, you’d drench my fingers, wouldn’t you?” I demanded harshly, imagining the silken slide of her folds around my fingers. “You’re aching to be filled there, too.”
She groaned around me, lashing her tongue beneath the sensitive rim of my crown.
Before I could think about it, I adjusted my stance, pressing my right shin tight to the apex of her thighs. I could feel the heat through my pants, through the placket of her underwear. In seconds, her wetness seeped through the fabric and ran sticky down my leg.
“If you want to get off, do it soon,” I told her, my balls drawn up, my lower spine tight as a coiled spring ready to pop. “Do it while I come down your throat.”
She didn’t hesitate.
Not for a second.
She squeezed her eyes shut so tight, tears burst forth and streamed down her cheeks as she started a hard, fierce rocking against my leg.
I watched her hump me, desperate and unashamed, and felt the hardest orgasm of my life looming over me, a tsunami wave about to crash and drown me.
She was the sexiest thing I’d ever fucking seen.
And then, as if devastating me wasn’t enough, she opened her blown black eyes and pinned them on me with my cock grossly distorting her pretty mouth, wedged at the entrance of her convulsing throat.
I lost it.
My control.
My thoughts.
The foundation of the life I’d stood on steadily for thirty years.
All of it eviscerated by the crashing, brutal wave of pleasure that rocked through me, breaking chains and bones, until I was untethered and floating. I spilled down her throat in a rush of come, jerking again and again like a drowning man fighting for air seconds before the end.
Vaguely, I was aware of her groan as the taste flooded her tongue, some spilling out her stretched-wide lips, a pearl of salty spend rolling down her chin.
And then the tension; the shaking, clenching mouth as she groaned long, low, almost mournful like the call of a bugle at a funeral as she succumbed to her own climax and juddered against my leg. Cum seeped through the fabric, ruining my thousand-dollar trousers, sticking to my leg hairs, rolling down my shin into the rim of my sock.
It was the single hottest thing that had ever happened to me.
So incendiary, I felt scarred by it, my entire body covered in mottled flesh like Walcott.
In the aftermath, we both panted harshly, chasing oxygen into wrecked lungs. My hands were still in her hair, soft now, the pads of my fingers digging gently into her skull. She’d tipped her head against the side of one thigh, breath wafting cool over my wet, spent cock.
In the silence of the room, amid the relics my grandparents had collected over their eccentric travels, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d done somethingrightno matter how wrong I told myself it needed to be.
It felt…if not preordained, then something like holy.
Something that felt right in the echoing, empty spaces of my soul.
Something that whispered softly,yes.
Even quieter,mine.
I let her go abruptly, stepping away as if scalded, shocked by the turn of my untamed thoughts. My hands fucking shook as I tucked myself away and buttoned up my trousers.
Bianca blinked up at me dazedly, utterly ruined by our encounter. There was spit and cum on her cheeks, chin, and chest, her eyes unfocused as she swam down from a submissive high, hair a mess from my clenching hands, salt tracks down her cheekbones.
So gorgeous my fucking teeth ached.
