17. Hayworth
SEVENTEEN
HAYWORTH
His orgasm reverberates through me like a tsunami, sending wave after wave of pleasure and want all the way down to my root. My cock strains in its denim prison and I’m desperate to release it but he tastes too damn good to let go of him. I want to be selfish but I can’t. The only thing I can do is keep licking him, sucking him, fingering him and watching him come undone before me until he hisses and twitches and forces me to stop.
He hooks a finger under my chin and leans into me, mouth open, tongue locked and loaded and claims my mouth like I’ve just claimed him and it’s only then I have half a willing mind to grope myself, to stroke myself, to massage the hardness in my pants.
His hands slide down but he doesn’t stop kissing me and he takes over the act, making it even more painful. I gasp and pant in his mouth and he sucks it in as if it’s his lifeline. I open my eyes. I didn’t even realize I’d closed them but I had. I find him staring at me with those hungry green-gray eyes and I moan for him.
“Let me show you some mercy,” he mumbles for a moment before he resumes the kiss and both hands unhook the button on my jeans, two fingers pull the zipper down and before I know it I’m exposed and at his mercy as he was only moments ago.
He prompts me to sit up and pushes me against the couch. His hold on my cock is firm but not tight. His movements slow, excruciatingly slow, I find myself catching my breath. He sits on my lap, guiding me under him and I brace myself but it never comes. No, instead he rubs his cock against mine, teasing me with a breach that never comes but gets me pulsing and panting uncontrollably.
“You like that?” he asks, sounding sultry, playful.
It’s like the more we do this the more confident he gets to the point he’s just plain torturing me now.
“Uh-huh,” is the only sound that manages to come out of me and he continues flicking me back and forth between his cock and his taint, the warmth of his skin giving me goose bumps.
“Good,” he says and dismounts me. “You’re not getting it.”
He smirks cheekily but I don’t care because I’m too busy throbbing for him, needing him, needing the release.
“I don’t do bare,” he says and the image of being inside him fills my brain with its filth.
I moan and he takes advantage of it by kissing me just enough to swallow my groan before he starts his descent, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake to my dick.
He kneels before me, his gaze a burning intensity that can undo me without warning or remorse, and he parts his lips just enough to fit my cockhead.
I guess he’s done with teasing.
I ball my hands into fists as if that can do anything to control the insatiable need flowing through my body and tame my breath if only so I can enjoy having the fantasy come to life. Felix with my cock in his mouth, filling him like he’s never been filled before.
His palm wraps around me, sliding up and down slowly and he runs circles around my slit with his tongue without ever lifting his lips from my crown.
I can’t help but reach for him. I brush his cheekbones, which look more pronounced due to his compromised position and bite myself before I lose control. I move my hand up to his temple, trace his eyebrow with my thumb and then comb his hair with my fingers. It’s soft as silk against my palm and I don’t know why but that makes me harder.
I caress his head, his face, his neck, his stroking hand. It doesn’t matter what I do. His gaze is pinned on me, his lips pouty around my cock.
“And here I thought we were done with teasing,” I croak and all he does is slow blink.
His hand glides up my length, completely unaffected until he opens his mouth just enough to take more of me.
“Oh God,” I cry because this is torture and I couldn’t care less.
It’s moments later, or maybe a century when he takes a few more of my inches in his mouth and yet I’m hooked. I can’t take my eyes off him, I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t even think.
All I can do is stay still under his mercy and watch him build up to my release as if it’s the most delicate operation and my life hangs in the balance of every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his hand, every movement of his lips.
Then as if time resumes normal speed bobs up and down my length, using his hand for extra support and speed as if he’s running out of time only to end up swallowing me whole. The entire time his eyes are trained on me until he runs out of breath and he pulls away just enough to refill his lungs but not enough to uncover my swollen head.
He goes back and forth between slow and painful to fast and erratic as if time is under his control, and I can’t take it anymore.
“What witchcraft is this?” I manage to form a sentence only for him to start going hard and fast again.
But there’s nothing I can or want to do to stop it. I’m completely at his mercy. I’m completely under his control and it’s intoxicating. It’s addictive. It’s as if it’s him and me and nobody else in the entire world, and as if we have forever to be doing just this.
I lose track of time, I lose track of reality so when he finally releases me and looks up with those pink swollen lips I feel the world tip upside down.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“Ready to… come ?”
The way he says the word come you’d think it had five syllables and it takes me several moments before I nod and he gets back to work.
He sucks my cockhead in and takes my length with both his hands, running them up and down while he sucks in a breath, making me feel as if I’m being stretched at two different ends.
He does it again and again and again until I can’t take it anymore. Until I can’t control it anymore—if I ever could.
I shoot my load with barely a warning and Felix lets go of me and rubs my cock in circles around his face until I’ve painted him white and sticky with my cum.
He looks at me with needy, thirsty eyes, sticky with my essence and I pull him onto me, onto my lips so I can lick him clean, but every opportunity he gets, he slips his tongue into my mouth and pulls my cum right out of me as if it’s his and he wants to claim it back.
“I love cum,” he murmurs.
“I love my cum on you,” I tell him.
“Then, Mr. Hayworth, you have all night to give me more of your nectar,” he groans and I have no choice but to oblige.
But first, I need to eat again.
More specifically, him.