Chapter 30 #2
He fists my hair and tugs my head back, so my eyes lock with his. Heat floods between my legs. I’m turned on by the power I have over him and how much he has over me. I’m excited by how much pleasure I’m going to give him.
I hold his gaze as I slowly tighten my lips around his head and sink them lower.
His groan sounds pained. “Aw, Hannah.” His fingers tangle in my hair and ball into a fist. “You—” he chokes as he pulls my head forward to take him in again.
It’s another show of sexual domination. If you’d asked me before if I’d like it, I would’ve said no fricking way, but I do.
Even as I’m slightly offended by the seeming lack of gratitude, by having my mouth used like nothing more than a fuck-hole, my pussy runs with arousal, my tightened nipples tingle, and I swirl my tongue around the underside of his cock with enthusiasm.
“Good girl, Hannah,” he chants. “That’s so fucking good.
You’re such a good girl.” It’s the third time he’s called me good girl .
Again, low-key offensive but so hot. His fist is tighter in my hair, pulling me over his length faster.
I suck hard and use my hand to milk him, doing my best to give him pleasure.
His hips roll, and his cock slaps against my tongue. I wrap my lips around him and draw him into my mouth, my cheeks so hollowed his strokes slide with a wet sound from my lips to his balls. He’s breathing faster, and I feel his biceps tense. I know he’s close. I want to make him come.
I want the saltiness in my mouth.
His cock hardens and twitches. He groans and thrusts deeper, and I take him as greedily as I can.
I flex my hand around his length and massage the underside of his head with my tongue. His hand tightens in my hair, and I take him even deeper into my mouth, using my hand to stroke his length the way I know he likes.
He’s still so hard it’s almost impossible to fit him entirely in my mouth, and my jaw aches as I try to suck him.
I’m swallowing him; sucking him down as fast as I can.
Fighting the gag reflex, my eyes water as I feel his cock swelling to an impossible size.
He’s getting ready to come, and when he does, I want it to be in my mouth.
I want to taste him. I want to feel him shooting his cum on my tongue. I want to swallow him.
I start to run my tongue up and down his shaft and he tenses.
“Oh,” he gasps. “Shit.” He pulls me off, panting as he stares down at me with glassy eyes.
“I wanted that to go on forever, but I wasn’t gonna last.” He shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a condom.
“Climb on, Flowers. I’ll give you a ride.
” His voice is a deep, sexy rumble. His dirty talk is on point today.
I ditch the panties still tangled around my thighs and straddle his waist while he rolls on the rubber.
“Oh God.” A shudder of pleasure runs through him when I lower onto his dick. “Hannah. You’re a fucking goddess. The flower goddess. Is there one?”
I’ve never heard this many unnecessary words come out of him. Something freed his tongue, and I absolutely love it. He palms my ass and controls my movements, even though he’s on bottom. I take him deep when he thrusts up to meet me at the same time he yanks me in.
He kneads my ass. “I fucking love this ass, Hannah. It’s so hot.
” He’s losing his breath, sounding winded.
I love watching his control slip. “Fucking flower goddess. Or wood nymph. You’re like that fairy on your shoulder.
.. but so much more. You’re carnal. ” His fingers dig into my flesh. I’m seconds away from orgasming.
So is he, judging from the intensity of his thrusts, his gritted teeth and the wild look in his eyes. He bounces me over him, my legs dangling around his hips, my hair falling over the right side of my face.
“You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” He peers through heavy lids. “Are you close?” He adjusts his hands to bring his thumb to my clit.
“Yes! I’m ready!” I gasp. I’m past ready because the moment he rubs my clit, I go off, my muscles spasming around his cock.
“Oh fuck, ” he roars, forgetting my clit to grab my hips and yank me up and down over his cock.
He comes, lifting us both into the air as he thrusts so deep in me he leaves the chair. He puts the edge of my butt on the desk and pounds into me as he comes and comes.
I fall back on my elbows, panting, watching the guy who was made of stone this morning come unglued.
In the best possible way.
“ Cristo ,” he mutters when he opens his eyes and takes me in. He loops his arm behind my back and pulls me up against his chest. “Are you good?”
“Yes.” I bite his chest and squeeze his cock with my core. I let out a breathy laugh. And then I’m suddenly crying.
Not sad tears—just a release. But I hate when I do this.
Armando’s arm tightens around me. I expect him to freak out, thinking he hurt me or something. Or worse, to pull way back because I got too intense. That’s what usually happens. This is usually where the guy freaks out and bails.
He doesn’t say a word, though. Doesn’t ask me what’s wrong. Just holds me against his rock-solid chest and lets me cry into his shirt.
When it finally passes, he eases away and wipes my tears with his thumbs. “I fucking love your tears,” he murmurs.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Ugh, that sounded wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. He’s already distancing—doing the thing that always happens. But his words—those were different.
I catch his hand. “Say it again. What did you mean?”
He cradles the side of my face with his calloused palm. “You’re okay, right? That was just... you? Or did I fuck up again?”
The again makes my stomach twist. In a good sort of way. Because he cares about screwing up with me.
I shake my head. “Yeah, just me being… too much. As usual.” I say it in a defeated tone, not because he’s made me feel defeated but from the accumulation of a lifetime of feeling everything too much.
He lowers his head to catch my eyes. “Nah. Not too much. I fucking loved it. You’re like… some wild mythical creature—” he stops, looking up like he’s searching for words. “I don’t want to say unicorn because that’s dumb. But something like that.”
My heart spills over, coming out my mouth, filling my chest. A couple fresh tears come out of my eyes. Armando thumbs them away again.
“I don’t know, Flowers. You’re wide open.
You take it all. You just fucking receive from me.
And I think it’s beautiful. And if I’m supposed to say sorry now, I will.
But it would be a lie because I love seeing you crack apart and bleed your essence all over the place then gather it up and start over again. ”
I stare into Armando’s hazel eyes, drinking up his praise. Expanding. Expanding into myself. Who I really am. The person I am with Armando—that’s the real me. I’m more myself with him than anyone else. Possibly even including myself. He celebrates the parts of me I don’t even like.
And knowing that, believing that he thinks I’m special, changes me. Makes me stronger. More whole.
He glances around the shop and smirks. “Something about the Garden of Eden. It makes me want to sin. Over and over.” He kisses me. “And over again.”