Page 44 of Edged
But worse, why did I like it? What was it about the things Archer said or the way he said them that brought me off better, harder, and faster than anyone else after him?
“Are you close?” He nudged me again with the tip of his shoe and I managed a nod.
He hummed, tugging my head just barely to the side, somehow making more room for his swollen erection to fill my mouth.
“Me too. I can’t wait to come right into your stomach, Owen.”
I groaned, raising off my knees and trying to rub my cock against the couch, his shoe, the floor, anything that would give me friction.
Archer made a tutting sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth, drawing his hips back just enough for air to flood my throat and my lungs. I choked and gagged, the response purely reflexive after having my airflow constricted for so long.
“Does your dick ache?” he asked, fucking my mouth with short and shallow thrusts.
I curled my fingers around the waistband of his pants and grunted confirmation.
“Not like that,” he said. “Put your hands back on me.”
I narrowed my eyes, managing to get my fingers half around his waist before digging my nails back into his skin. Archer groaned, lifting off the seat, the steady thrust of his hips faltering. I wasn’t certain, but I was ninety-nine percent sure that I wasn’t the only one who chased a bit of pain with their pleasure.
“Fuck, yes. Just like that.” Archer thrust his length back into my mouth, the crown of his cock kissing the back of my throat. I sealed my lips around the base of his erection and when he came, hot jets of his release splattered against the roof of my mouth and the curve of my tongue before sliding right down my throat.
I didn’t even have to suck, and I barely had to swallow. Archer’s hold on my hair tightened and he cursed my name under his breath, filling my mouth and my throat with the taste and feel of him until he’d had enough. I didn’t even realize I’d started humping myself against his leg, and he let me.
He let me pump my cock against his ankle, writhing madly like I was chasing after the fountain of youth and not something as mindlessly simple as an orgasm. But in that moment, it didn’t feel easy and it didn’t feel thoughtless. Everything that he’d done and that I’d felt since stepping onto that plane had been calculated and directed in order to get me right where he wanted me.
I hated him for it, but I couldn’t tell him no.
I didn’t want him to stop.
With his cock still in my mouth, Archer released his hold on my head and smoothed the strands of my hair back. He reached down and swiped his fingertips below my eye, wiping tears. My cheeks flamed with heat, but I didn’t move, save for my cock, which by that point had a mind of its own.
“Owen,” he said my name softly, the syllables scratchy in the back of his mouth. He cleared his throat and slowly eased his way out of mine. My jaw hurt from how long it had been open, and Archer waited until he was free of my teeth to finish speaking. “Put your pants back on.”
“What?” I blinked, disbelief flooding my field of vision. I looked down at my cock, at the slick stains against Archer’s slacks and shoes. I bet he paid someone to shine them. I wondered if he’d ever had cum cleaned off the expensive leather before. If not, there was a first time for everything.
“Put your pants back on.”
“I haven’t come yet.”
“I know,” he said.
I grunted, one eye twitching in the corner as I forced his face into focus. My jaw clicked as I worked it back and forth, every protest right on the tip of my tongue. Every bad word I wanted to call him falling flat before even making it that far.
“It hurts,” I managed to admit, once again covering the head of my dick with my palm. The touch was almost too much for me to handle, and I let me hand fly back to Archer’s leg for support. “It really hurts.”
“Show me.”
I swallowed, leaning back and prying my fingers off his leg so he could see.
“Stand up so I can see better,” Archer said.
I raised myself on shaking knees until my cock was inches from his face. My erection was nearly purple for how much blood was between my legs, my balls tight and hot against my skin. Archer leaned in, bracketing his hands around my waist to steady me and then he stuck out his tongue.
He moved slow, making it clear what he was going to do, and there was no way I could watch. But my body was moving slow, with all of my attention and need centered between my legs. So his tongue connected with my shaft before I could look away, and he licked one hot and long stripe up to the tip of my dick. He swirled his tongue through my slit, and then he put my cock back into my boxers and zipped me up.
The pressure of my waistband was torture, and when he tightened my belt, the sound of the leather and metal on top of the physical pressure of the constriction had me whimpering and falling back onto my knees at his feet.
“Archer, please,” I begged him, grabbing his knees and trying to climb onto his lap. “Please. Please. I have to. It hurts. It fuckinghurts.”
