Page 15 of Mating Theory
Hell, I’m big. But not a monster. If she’s scared of my dick, it’s because someone hurt her with one. That should be enough to make me stop.
I touch my thumb to her bottom lip, rubbing softly. “Open for me.”
God help her, she does. Her lips part. I push my thumb inside. She’s wet and warm. My cock throbs, wanting inside. I fist it with my other hand, stroking once, twice. Casual enough to keep me from coming. She waits for what I’m going to do next.
“You’re so open. So vulnerable. You know that, don’t you? I could do anything to you right now. I could fuck your throat. Block your air until you pass out.”
A hitch in her breath. “Do you want to do those things?”
“You would be shocked at the things I want to do to you.” I want to tangle in the sheets with her and talk until the early hours of morning. I want to fall in love. That’s what’s wrong with me, my fatal flaw. The insistent desire to enmesh myself with another human being.
Do I want to fuck her throat?
No, which is why I’m going to do it.
“I’m not sure I can—”
“You can take it,” I say, implacable. “Put your hands behind your back.”
She moves her hands slowly and clasps them together. I have to clench my teeth to keep from coming. Such undeserved trust. That’s her fatal flaw. I shouldn’t find it so goddamn beautiful.
I put the head of my cock to her mouth. I’m already slick at the tip from precum, and I slide against her lips, painting them. We’re feeling each other in our most sensitive places, learning an intimate terrain. It takes herculean effort to pause and sheathe myself in a condom. Then I push inside. I rest myself on her tongue. She closes around me, her eyes wide, her movements clumsy. It’s like she’s never done this before.
It’s like she’s never done this before.
The thought is almost enough to make me stop. Almost.
She might be used to a hand at the back of her head across the gearshift. I’m going to teach her how to do this right so she’s not afraid of it. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, nominate Sutton Mayfair for sainthood. I’m going to show a prostitute how to suck dick.
“Easy,” I tell her. “Slow down. Hold on to the tip, nothing more.”
She calms, quiets, holds the tip in her mouth. God, she’s incredible like this. I could stare at her for hours, my very own Renoir in the form of a mouth on my cock.
“That’s right. That’s good.” I stroke her hair, the way I’d tame a wild horse. “You feel so good and wet and warm. This is the only place I want to be right now.”
Her eyes are liquid gold looking up at me. Slowly, slowly, slowly, she runs her tongue along the crest. I shudder, and she sees her power. I watch the realization dawn in her. A blowjob isn’t a form of worship. It’s a way to bring me to my knees.
She strokes her tongue in a sweeping circle, her gaze never leaving mine. My responses give her clues. My groan, the forward shift of my hips. The way I run her hair through my hands, sifting for gold. “Yes. Fucking yes. Right there, sweet thing. I’m yours.”
Incoherent. Meaningless. I’m mumbling enough things to expose me, fully, but she only sucks and licks and nuzzles at me through the latex, and I gasp out my gratitude.
Climax builds in my balls. It climbs to the base of my spine. “Hold still,” I murmur. “Let me fuck that gorgeous mouth. I won’t go too fast. I won’t hurt you.”
Her tongue goes still. Her mouth opens wider. She strengthens her hold on her hands behind her back. A mumbling sound around the flesh of my cock. Assent.
I hold her head steady with one hand and my cock with the other. The urge to drive deeper tightens my hips. My teeth grind together. Only force of will keeps me slow and even.
“Fuck.” I’m halfway in her mouth, already bumping the back of her throat.
She makes a small, desperate sound that is neither refusal nor agreement. It’s a sound of fullness that makes my balls tighten.
“A little deeper,” I mutter, and push into the resistant flesh, hold myself there for a count of one, two, three, and then pull out. She gasps a fresh breath around my slick cock.
When she’s calmed herself I push in again. One, two, three. Again and again, until her lips are swollen and her chin is slick with saliva. She breathes only when I let her, a deep drink of air before I push myself into that snug place once more.
The climax builds to an almost painful pitch, and I hold it back out of stubbornness alone. I want this forever, an eternity, this moment of pure selfish sex without the guilt or recrimination that comes after. My body can’t withstand eternity. Her throat presses the orgasm out of me, and I come in rough, uneven thrusts, without any of the care her tender throat needs.
