Page 110 of Secret Obsession
“Worried about your voice?” he murmurs, leaning over me. “I’ll steal your voice, wild girl. And then I’ll give it back to you.”
I open my mouth to protest, and he forces me forward. I automatically open wider for him, letting him in my mouth. His second piercing rubs my tongue, the metallic flavor sharp and foreign. All of him is foreign, and my chest tightens at that.
I don’t want him to be foreign.
My eyes close as he pushes farther in, until my throat closes around him and my whole body seems to rebel with the force of my gag reflex. He pulls out and jacks his hips forward again, pressing deeper.
“Relax,” he whispers. His grip turns into a caress of fingers against my scalp, but his palm on the back of my head doesn’t let me escape. He pushes in far enough to block my breathing.
I squeeze his thighs. My eyes open, and I stare up at him.
He controls the pace, my movements, my breath.
It’s okay that way.
When he withdraws, I suck in a noisy breath through my nose. My nostrils flare with the effort of being quick. And then he’s moving again, fucking my face with wild abandon. I might just topple over backward if he wasn’t holding on to me, and me to him.
But something shifts halfway through. I wrap my tongue around his tip when he withdraws, and suck at his shaft when he plunges forward. The piercings rub on my tongue, giving me a taste of metal with the taste ofhim. My mind goes all floaty, and it’s like I’m drunk again.
Not in a bad way, though. More like… in a way that I don’t need to control my every move, because he’s doing it for me. He’s got me.
“Good,” he growls. “Submission looks so sweet on your face, wild girl. Stay in it. That’s it.Fuck, I love when your throat squeezes me like that.”
My eyes roll back, and my jaw relaxes farther. He stills, the tip of his dick on my tongue, and he pulls my head back slightly. I close my lips around him and run my tongue along the underside of the head, and his cock jumps.
“God,” he groans.
He comes, flooding my mouth. I swallow around him, almost choking on the amount of it. His grip on my hair eases, and he pulls me off his dick. He drops to his knees in front of me, his finger lifting my chin.
“Show me your mouth,” he orders.
My lips part. He catches some of his cum on his fingers. Scooping it from my tongue. His other hand undoes my jeans enough for him to guide his cum-covered fingers down to my cunt. He thrusts inside me. The heel of his palm grinds on my clit. I rise, making a noise in the back of my throat.
“Swallow,” he whispers.
I just do it without thinking.
Does that make me a bad person?
His fingers are still inside me, pumping slowly. He manages to work me right up to the edge, when my orgasm seems like an apparition in the distance, and then withdraws.
He licks his fingers clean right in front of me, the corner of his lips tilting up.
“You’ve tasted me, I’ve tasted you.” He holds out his hands.
I put my palms against his, and he helps me rise. We stand together while my mind comes back to me.
“How…?” I shake my head.
How did he do that to me?
How did he know where to find me?
How has healwaysknown where to find me?
“I like control,” he says simply. “And sometimes, I need it.”
Sometimes I need to not have it.
