Chapter 11 #2
His grin is wicked. “They’ve been awfully polite.”
He leans forward, face brushing against my neck, murmuring encouragement as I slide my robe off. The bra underneath barely contains me, straining against my tits, leaving them spilling over, teasing, and unapologetically exposed.
JimsCuntDestroyer: Make her suck your dick.
AdamsLadder: Fuck, that would be hot.
MistressE: Such a pretty sight that would be.
My pulse spikes at the idea, and a single shared look through the camera screen is all it takes for us to move in sync.
Matt adjusts the phone on the tripod, angling it lower, catching the sight of me on my knees. Then he’s looming above me—close, commanding—his deft fingers freeing his cock to my hungry gaze.
With one hand firm at the back of my head and the other stroking himself, he guides the tip to my mouth. I open without hesitation, lips parting as he presses in.
In the background, I hear the steady chime of tips rolling in, the chat surging faster, but it all fades. All I can focus on is him. The weight of his cock filling my mouth. The solid heat of his thighs beneath my palms as I brace myself. The taste of him on my tongue.
Matt groans softly, low and rough, one hand tangling in my hair while the other slides down my body. His palm cups my breast through the lace, thumb rolling over my nipple, twisting, pinching until I’m a mess of needy sounds around him.
“Fuckkkk,” he groans. “Just like that, baby. Such a tight little hole for me.”
The approval hits me harder than anything else, an aphrodisiac that has me aching, desperate for more friction, more anything. As if he senses it, his grip tightens. He draws my head back just enough to look down at me.
Even without seeing his face, I know the expression behind the mask is pure sin.
“Do you need something?” he asks softly. “Hmm? Is that needy little cunt of yours empty and aching?”
The words drag through me, lighting me up from the inside. I don’t hesitate and I don’t overthink.
“Please,” I breathe. “Touch me. Fuck me. Anything—just give me something.”
His answering sound is low, dark, and satisfied.
“Anything, huh? How about this?”
He slips his foot between my thighs—leather boots still on, solid and unapologetic—and cocks his head slightly, like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do with it. The invitation is unmistakable and a challenge I rise to without hesitation.
I glance over my shoulder at the camera, giving them a wicked little wink before turning back to Matt. I hold his gaze as I lower myself, grinding against the hard line of his boot.
It should feel wrong. It should feel filthy in a way that makes me flinch but it doesn’t. I know these boots are new, just like I know Matt would never risk my safety and that knowledge only makes the heat burn hotter.
A moan slips free as I rock against him, catching my clit against the rough ridges of his laces with every slow roll, pleasure building fast.
“Fuck,” he curses.
His grip tightens on the back of my head as he starts to fuck my throat, slow at first, then deeper, rougher, using me, claiming me. Seeing him so far gone sends a sharp pulse straight through my core.
The coil inside me tightens, tighter, tighter—
And then it snaps.
I shudder violently, hips stuttering as my orgasm tears through me, white-hot and overwhelming.
My mouth falls open around him, a broken sound ripping free as heat spills into every nerve, my body convulsing helplessly against his boot.
Matt groans, deep and rough, the sound vibrating through me as he holds me there, riding out every trembling aftershock, refusing to let me come down too fast.
I feel him tense above me, his grip sharpening, and breath breaking.
He comes with a low, ragged roar, spilling into my mouth as my body continues to shudder while tasting him, taking him, and giving him everything.
The moment stretches hot, raw and obscene before Matt stumbles back, collapsing onto the edge of the bed, panting, sweat-slick and shaking, while the camera still rolls.
I shift closer instinctively, leaning against his legs for support, my own body still humming.
The chat explodes—hearts, praise, disbelief—but it barely registers. For a moment, it’s just us. The heat. The intensity. The electric aftermath of being fully seen and fully undone.
Eventually, I find the energy to reach forward, fingers unsteady as I end the stream with purred promises of more soon.
The screen goes dark, the room falling quiet except for our breathing.
I crawl up onto the bed with him, and he slips the mask off, green eyes dark and intent as he pulls me into his chest and we sink back together.
“That,” he rasps, voice thick and satisfied, “was perfect. Exactly like I knew it would be.”
I laugh softly, shaky but triumphant. “I think the chat agrees.”
He chuckles, arm tightening around me. “You were incredible. Every last second.”
I rest my head against his chest, his heartbeat still racing beneath my cheek, my own breath finally starting to slow.
“We… should do that again,” I murmur, the words barely louder than a thought. Half a joke, half a hopefully idea.
His arm tightens around me, warm and sure. “Anytime, Lil’,” he says quietly. It isn’t a tease. It isn’t a promise dressed up pretty.
It’s just the truth.
The room is still, the echo of heat and noise and being watched fading into something softer, safer. I let myself sink into him, into the weight of his body and the way he holds me like I belong right here.
For once, I don’t feel small. Or wrong. Or like I need to shrink to be loved.
I got to be all of me.
Seen, desired, in control for the first time in my life, and utterly worshipped.
And deep in my bones, I know—this is only the beginning.