Chapter 12 #3
Her chest lifts as she does. Body offering itself up. Head angled back. Gold dress pulled taut across her breasts.
And I know – without question – I’m taking this sight to my grave.
‘Good girl.’
Her eyes widen as her body rocks towards me, every inch of her lighting up at my approval.
So, the Queen Bee’s got a praise kink… Halle-fucking-lulah.
‘You may rule your world, Tay, but in mine, you fall easy.’ I hook my thumb under her bottom lip and drag it down, forcing her mouth to part. ‘Tonight, this is mine.’ I slip my fingers to her throat. ‘And this.’ I squeeze just enough to feel her pulse kick. ‘Understood?’
She gives the smallest whimper.
‘What did I tell you?’ My cock thuds as I caress that fluttering beat. ‘Words, Baby Girl. Use your words.’
‘Yes,’ she whispers, chin dipping.
‘Oh no, you don’t.’ My fingers tighten beneath her jaw, forcing her head back up. ‘I want those hungry eyes right here. On mine.’
And when she looks—
Christ.
There’s nothing guarded left. No pretence.
Just want – raw, open, honest.
And I’m drowning.
Forget the money. The walls. The world I’ve built to survive.
All of it fades.
What’s left is the kid from Hackney, still starving for something he can’t name.
The ache cuts deep, and I shove it down with practised ease.
Chasing what you can’t have is a fool’s game.
Power and control – that’s survival.
‘Good,’ I rasp, wrapping her hair around my fist until there’s nothing left to coil, grounding myself in her surrender, not the wreckage pressing in. ‘My girl. My mouth. My rules.’
Her body yields in my grip, surrender bleeding into trust. And it’s fucking intoxicating. Lethal.
‘Now, who do you belong to?’
Her breath catches. Her eyes shine. ‘You.’
And for one reckless heartbeat, I let myself believe it. Let the boy from Hackney taste something he never dared hope for.
‘That’s right.’ My knuckles graze her jaw. ‘You want to please me?’
‘So much,’ she breathes.
A twisted smile curls across my mouth as I unfasten the buckle at my waist, the metallic clink slicing through the quiet.
‘How?’ I ask, popping the top button of my jeans. ‘Don’t be shy.’
Her eyes flicker, cheeks warming. ‘Let me taste you.’
I ease the zipper down, the release of pressure bringing its own heat.
‘Is this what you want?’
I pull myself out, and her breath catches, the answer written all over her face as I fist my cock in front of her.
‘Yes…’
She leans in and I tighten my grip in her hair to stop her.
Her eyes shoot to mine.
‘Please, Ax…’ Her breath sweeps over me, a teasing tremor that draws up through my balls. ‘Please.’
I shudder, pre-cum leaking at the slit.
‘I should paint your pretty little lips for making me so hard.’
‘Do it.’ She lifts her chin. ‘Brand me.’
Fuck. I squeeze the base of my cock, staving off the burn.
‘You should be careful what you wish for, Baby Girl.’
But I do it anyway, smearing it across her mouth, the sight making more spill free.
‘You look so good with my cum on you.’
Her body pulses, another flush of heat staining her cheeks.
I pump again, coating her, layering it over her eager lips – lips she doesn’t dare lick. Until—
‘Taste.’
I brace myself for the flick of her tongue, but she takes her time – slowly sweeping it around her lips, before flicking out to catch a fresh bead.
I hiss at the fleeting contact, holding myself still as she dares to take more.
‘That’s it, Baby Girl.’ I angle her face to the side, greedy for the view. ‘Get it all.’
She drags her tongue from the base to the tip, circles the head until my vision threatens to blur.
‘Now open that pretty little mouth and let me in…’
I guide her forward and press inside, losing my breath with a groan as her lips part around me. She takes me deep, sucks back hard, the filthy pop as she slips me free making me jerk. Then her tongue is there, swirling, tasting, teasing – until she parts again and I stop her.
‘So hungry,’ I murmur, dragging the head of my cock along her skin, smearing our combined slick everywhere but where she wants it.
‘Please,’ she begs, shoulders straining, hands desperate to take control. ‘I want more.’
‘How much more?’
‘I want all of you.’
My chest tightens. The truth slams into me as I thrust forward, burying myself deep, trying to bury what I already know:
She has all of me. Always has.
She gags as I hit the back of her throat, and there’s a part of me – the fucked-up bastard – that wants to keep going. To stuff her full. To punish her for making me suffer. For making me feel.
I yank back, self-loathing licking up my spine.
But she moans, head shaking, eyes pleading.
More.
‘Fuck,’ I growl, fingers tight in her hair as I push her down and drive back in. ‘Do you know how good it feels having you beg for my cock?’
She moans around me as I hit the narrow tunnel of her throat.
‘How good it feels to have you choke on it?’ I force her to gag again, knowing it’s what she wants, knowing it’s what I want too.
The heat spreads relentlessly as I give myself over to it, using her mouth like it’s mine to do as I please.
Hair caught in my fist, mouth wedged wide, tears slipping free.
‘That’s it, Baby Girl. Take it. Take it all.’
I pound and pound, the air filling with the slick sound of her mouth – her broken breath, her desperate moans – until I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t stop.
And I’m gone. No time to warn her. Just gone.
My body locks tight, breath shot, eyes trying to close; but I slam them open, wanting this burnt into me forever.
The sight of her taking it. Taking me. Hot jets shooting down her throat, eyes locked on mine, cock buried deep.
She takes every last drop, her satisfied moan vibrating all the way to my rattled core.
I may have fucked her mouth, but I’m the one who’s fucked. My fist slackens in her hair, the thought shuddering through me as she swipes her tongue around the tingling head.
She laughs softly, smiling up at me like the cat that got the cream. ‘Sensitive?’
‘Never,’ I lie.
She presses a kiss to the very tip, and I jerk.
‘Course you’re not.’
With a huff, I drag my fingers along her jaw with a tenderness that scares me.
‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ I say, too honest, too raw.
I brush the last traces from her mouth, and she blinks up at me: mascara-smudged eyes, cheeks flushed and wet, lips red and swollen, and it’s the goddamn truth.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
Or more mine.
I want to wrap her in my arms, carry her to the bed, and never leave.
Which is why I need to get the hell away.
Like, now.
Because the fantasy and the reality and this baby deal are starting to bleed into each other, and that end she wanted in writing, it’s getting harder to picture. Because when I have her like this, I can’t imagine ever giving it up. Even for her sake.
And you thought kissing was the line… Who’s the fool now?
I step back, zipping myself away before my body betrays me again, and she stumbles forward, hands catching on the floor as she looks up, confused.
‘Where are you— what are you doing?’
‘Leaving.’ I drain the drink I poured for her, needing the burn. Needing to look like I’ve got this when I sure as hell don’t. ‘What’s wrong, Baby Girl? Wanting your fix too?’
Her eyes flare, heat and fury flashing beneath the gloss.
Good.
A fight, I can handle.
What she does to me? Not a chance.
‘Tell me again how our schedules get to decide this,’ I say, letting amusement curl through my words. ‘See how that works out for you.’
I turn and walk, leaving her there. Kneeling. Wanting. Trembling.
But the truth snaps at my heels…
It’s me on my knees really.
Always has been.
Always will be.
For her. And only her.