Chapter 22 #2
ZOLTáN: They’ll be gone. How was your day? Vincent is definitely a mummy’s boy now.
I laughed, swiping through the pictures on my phone and sent him the one of me with my tomato plant.
ZOLTáN: Fuck. You can’t do that to me.
FIA: They’ll be ready in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait to taste them!
ZOLTáN: Let me taste you.
I threw my head into the pillow to hide my excited, embarrassed woo-girl giggle. He managed to make every little thing about wanting me.
ZOLTáN: Look what you do to me.
And then a picture came through. It was dark and grainy. In his guest bed, his thick, muscular thighs lay before him, but the focus was his cock and his large hand wrapped around it.
I was salivating. And wet.
All from a photo of me and my tomatoes.
ZOLTáN: Come and ride it, kis szemtelen.
My thighs were rubbing against each other.
ZOLTáN: You touching yourself? Is that why you’re not replying?
I hadn’t been, but my fingers were suddenly slipping under the lace.
ZOLTáN: I am. But I’d rather be touching you. Licking you. Fucking you.
ZOLTáN: Fia. This room is further from my mum’s.
FIA: Maybe I’ll just leave this door unlocked.
I imagined him groaning.
ZOLTáN: No. I need you now. Come here, or I will come and take you.
FIA: You that desperate for me? You know, you’re not the only one who wants a taste.
ZOLTáN: Oh, really?
FIA: I want you to ram your cock in my mouth until my throat memorises every vein. Until I can’t breathe.
ZOLTáN: I thought you wanted to keep us a secret?
FIA: Yeah.
ZOLTáN: But you’re giving me this attitude by not doing as you’re told? The longer you make me wait… the more attitude I clearly need to fuck out of you. Our parents are going to notice how you can’t walk in the morning.
My heart hammered. I loved it when he was rough with me. Maybe I’d have to up my attitude.
FIA: That hard, huh?
ZOLTáN: For every minute you’re not choking on my cock, Fia Bacque, will be another punishment.
He loved to spank me, but we needed to be quiet.
FIA: Promise me we’ll be quiet.
ZOLTáN: You’re the one who screams my name, baby. Bring the black box under the bed.
Oh, I knew what that meant. Kinky shit.
I paused at the door, looking left and right, heart in my throat.
The second I heard Imre laughing at the TV, I made a dash for it across the hallway, the box under my arm.
As quick as I dared, step by step, toe to heel, careful and silent, I eyed the door down the hall where his mum — my step-mum — would be readying herself for bed.
There was no movement. I took a deep breath and turned the knob as slowly as I could.
It was thrown open. I was tugged inside the dark room, and it closed softly behind us. The box was taken from my hands, and I was pressed into the wall, feeling his cock against my silk pyjama top.
“Took you long enough,” he moaned before kissing me and pulling me close.
With Zolt, I often knew what kind of sex we were going to have by his warm-up kisses.
The slow ones with tongue meant I was going to be worshipped, kisses all over my body, deep thrusts, and sloppy kisses.
When he bit on my lip, I knew I was in for a ruining.
When his mouth engulfed mine, I knew we were up for more than one session.
But he smothered me, his mouth hungry, wet against mine, his hands roaming my back under my pyjama top. His lips brushed mine. “I’m not—I’m not staying so far yet so close to you.”
“No,” I agreed, kissing him back and looping my arms around his neck.
He thrust against me. “You feel that? How fucking hard I am?”
I nodded, nipping at his lip, my impatience making me jump up on him so I could feel his length against the parting of my thighs. “Yes.”
“It’s all for you.”
“Mm-hmm.” I wrapped myself tighter around him, using my ankles at his lower back as leverage to roll my pussy against him. “So stop talking and give me it.”
He chuckled into my mouth and dropped me onto the bed. I slammed my palm over my mouth to muffle my gasp, and he laughed harder. “One second.”
He reached over me, and I got to inhale his citrus scent, ready to let him inside of me there and then just because he smelled delicious. I didn’t need a warm-up.
He turned the TV on and opened the box, pulling out the gag we’d used a couple of times before.
I shook my head. “How am I going to choke on you if my mouth is covered?”
I pushed him down to the bed, pulled down his boxers, and got to business, kissing the head of his cock before taking him straight to the hilt.
“Fuck,” he grunted.
Bobbing up and down on him until his head fell back on the pillows, I tickled his balls so his fist tangled in my hair, guiding me, forcing me just how I liked.
I couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, just enjoy him using me to get off.
He loved me.
When he pulled me up, he let me suck in a breath before kissing me and dragging me to the edge of the bed, so my head dangled off the mattress. “What are you—”
“I’m going to fuck your throat,” he told me. “Now, remember to be quiet. If you’re worried, if I go too far, you have your hands free. Push off me.”
My heart pounded. He’d never done this before. I looked into his eyes and nodded, getting comfy above the duvet.
He tapped his cock against my lips. “Open.”
I did, poking my tongue out to get another taste.
“Keep your tongue flat. I’m going to go slow.” He shushed my protest with his cock. “Slowly. Not quick. You’re going to take all of me.”
If my mouth weren’t so preoccupied, I’d be grinning. He started to inch in, and I sucked on him, but he shook his head. “No, baby,” he whispered as the TV went quiet. “Just let me in.”
I stayed so still until he hit the back of my throat and I coughed a little.
He withdrew an inch. “You okay?”
I nodded and looped my hands around his thighs, pulling him closer. “Tilt your head further back. Take a deep breath through your nose. You’re not going to be able to breathe now.”
I did as I was told, steadying myself by fisting the duvet.
“Okay, and remember, you can push me off.”
My answer was pulling him closer, and he started to pulse down my throat, edging further and further.
And I felt like an utter slut. It wasn’t the act. It was the absolute obsession of wanting to please him, of wanting him to use me. To be the best for him.
“Fuck, Zsófia,” he grunted at the back of his throat. “Fuck. You’re so good, baby.”
The mix of English and Hungarian, the way I couldn’t breathe, the blood rush to my head, all put me into a state of euphoria.
The world buzzed around me, everything was grainy, and I was full of him.
And then he brushed his fingertips over my throat. “I can see just how much I fill you up.” He put more pressure on his strokes down my throat, and I focused on staying as still as I could. “You like to see how much of a slut you are, don’t you? You want me to record it?”
I couldn’t make a noise, but he already knew my answer.
His camera light came on while he filmed his fingers touching himself through my throat.
“I can’t explain to you how amazing this feels,” he said, starting to thrust gently into me. “How does it feel for you?”
The blood rush, the lack of oxygen, and I was in an absolute haze of lust — broken as he reached over and pinched my clit. And it was no longer a haze. It was heaven.
He pulled out and helped me to sit, wiping at the spit around my mouth with his thumb. “You okay?”
I nodded, my head feeling light and heavy at the same time. I didn’t know if I could talk. “Please,” I gasped and weakly held his arms as he leaned over me. He was the only thing stopping me from collapsing onto the bed. “Please fuck me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Better than okay. Please.” I pulled myself up so I could breathe against his mouth. “Fuck me like you love me.”
Carefully, he placed me on the bed and kissed my forehead. “There is no ‘like,’ édesem.” My heart.
And he lined himself up, brushing my hair back from my face and planting kisses on my cheeks and down my neck. “There is no ‘like,’” he repeated and started to move inside of me with slow, deep thrusts. “There’s only love. I love you, Fia. Every inch, every breath, every part of you.”
His body pressed down against mine as he worshipped me, his hands covering every part of me, as if I might disappear and he needed to remember every inch that he loved.
If I weren’t still in my haze, if I weren’t worried, I might croak out my own admission so loudly the whole house would hear. I would have said it back.
But he pressed his lips to mine, his tongue to mine, his chest to mine, and I wasn’t capable of words, only kissing and loving.