Chapter 9 Doctor’s Hands #5
The fabric finally peeled away, Amir shoving his briefs down, letting his cock spring free—thick, flushed, heavy, the kind of cock that demanded worship and submission.
Veins stood out along the shaft, the head swollen and leaking, already marked with my name.
I nuzzled along the base, tongue dragging over the sensitive seam, up to the crown, collecting every drop, savoring the taste like it was the only thing I’d ever wanted.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” Amir groaned, voice gone wrecked.
His hands cupped my jaw, thumbs stroking the corners of my mouth, guiding me, letting me decide how much, how fast. I took him in slowly, lips sealing around the tip, letting my tongue swirl, then swallowing down further, feeling the stretch and the ache and the thrill of being filled by him.
A low, broken moan shuddered out of Amir as I worked him deeper, jaw straining, nose pressed to the base, his scent overwhelming, sweat and skin and need. He rocked his hips once, shallow and careful, letting me find my rhythm, his cock filling my mouth and throat.
Hands cradled my skull, gentle but unyielding, setting the pace, guiding me, worshipping me even as I worshipped him. My own cock ached, untouched, leaking onto my thigh, but all I cared about was the man above me—the taste, the heat, the proof of his need.
“Yeah, just like that,” Amir growled, hips twitching, voice vibrating through my bones. “You take me so well. Such a fucking gift, having you on your knees, greedy for every inch.”
The hand at the nape of my neck tightened, fingers laced into my hair until my scalp prickled.
Amir’s cock swelled in my mouth, salt and skin flooding my tongue.
A low rumble of approval vibrated through his chest as my lips stretched wider, my throat working to take him deeper, to give him everything he wanted.
The taste, the weight, the heat of him—nothing existed beyond that, beyond the steady rock of his hips and the scent of him pouring over my senses.
My hands slid up, clutching at the hard muscle of his ass, digging in for leverage, pulling him closer as my mouth watered around the thickness pulsing against my tongue.
“Open,” Amir ordered, voice rough, a command that hit somewhere low and dangerous. His grip on my hair forced my face up, cock slipping from my lips, drool spilling down my chin. My chest heaved with want, desperate for the next thing, whatever he would give me.
A string of spit pooled in his mouth, shining in the low light, then dropped heavy and hot to my lips, landing square on my tongue.
I moaned, letting it spill across my lips, swallowing it down with a gasp, hungry for anything he’d give me.
Amir’s eyes were molten, burning with possession and something that felt dangerously close to worship.
“Take it,” he growled, thumb tracing my bottom lip, dragging spit and precome across the seam, smearing my mouth with his hunger. “You’re made for this - mouth open, drooling, begging for cock.”
A shiver raced through my bones, shame and need knotted tight as he fed his cock back into my mouth.
His grip never loosened, guiding my head, setting the pace—slow at first, letting me adjust, then faster, deeper, using my mouth with greedy, measured thrusts.
My jaw ached, throat stretched, but I wanted it, needed it, every thrust a claim, every withdrawal a filthy benediction.
Drool spilled out around his shaft, coating my chin, slicking his cock, the sounds wet and obscene.
Each time he bottomed out, my nose pressed to the coarse hair at his groin, breathing him in, lungs burning with the need for air and more.
My own cock ached between my legs, untouched, leaking, the pulse of want echoing with every thrust Amir gave me.
Another spit landed on my tongue, hot and slick, his thumb forcing it down, holding my jaw wide open as he fucked my mouth. “Show me how much you want it. Show me how filthy you can be, Sebastian. You can take it—know you can.”
Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, from the stretch, the burn, the need to please him. Every gasp, every choke, only made him groan louder, hips snapping forward, cock sliding down my throat until I gagged and then stilled, letting him hold me there, letting him decide when I could breathe.
My fingers dug into his thighs, holding on, submitting, my eyes flicking up to meet his. Power rolled off him in waves—shoulders tight, chest heaving, sweat gleaming along the hollow of his collarbones. The silver watch glinted at his wrist, a flash of light against the dark of his skin.
“God, you look perfect like this,” Amir rasped, using my hair as a handle, dragging my mouth up and down his shaft, groaning every time my throat fluttered around him. “So pretty with your lips stretched, cheeks wet, tongue begging for more.”
My whole world narrowed to the rhythm of his hips, the ache in my jaw, the mess on my chin and his cock. He leaned over me, spit dripping from his mouth to mine, his grip possessive, claiming, adoring and cruel all at once.
“Gonna ruin you,” he promised, cock twitching against my tongue. “Want you fucked out, voice gone, knees bruised from worshipping me. That what you want, prince?”
A guttural moan was all I could manage, my answer given in the way I pressed my face closer, swallowing him down again, chasing the heat, the filth, the humiliation and the praise.
My chest tightened, air burning, eyes wet.
His cock throbbed with every pulse of my tongue, every desperate gasp I gave.
Amir never lost control, always holding the pace just at the edge—fast enough to leave me dizzy and raw, slow enough to make me feel every inch, every vein, every shudder in his body.
The slap of his hips against my face, the drag of his cock on my lips, the slick sound of spit and precome and tears—all of it built to a fever, held on a razor’s edge.
“Stay right there,” Amir commanded, hand tightening as his cock fucked deep, filling me again and again, voice breaking on a groan. “Don’t you dare move. Let me use this mouth. Let me watch you choke on it, love every fucking second.”
My body obeyed, locked in worship and submission, mouth stretched wide, tongue working, throat open. His words echoed in my bones, filthy and holy, every command another jolt of electricity that made my cock pulse, untouched and desperate, a fresh dribble marking my thigh.
The need—raw, endless, sharp as a blade—hung between us, keeping us both on the edge, not letting either of us fall. Amir’s rhythm slowed, hips grinding in, his hand loosening just enough for me to breathe, then tightening again, setting a cruel, perfect rhythm.
A sudden pull at my hair snapped me out of trance, my mouth wrenched free, spit connecting us in thick strands.
My head tipped back, throat bared, gasping for air as Amir bent low, eyes burning, lips twisted in a hungry, wild grin.
“Up,” he growled, the word hitting like a whip. “On your feet. Wall.”
Rough hands hauled me upright, dragging me to the nearest blank expanse of cold tile. My back hit the wall with a thud, the shock of it racing up my spine, making my heart stutter in my chest. Amir pressed close, heat and strength radiating off him, chest pinning me so tight I could hardly breathe.
His mouth crashed down on mine, brutal and claiming, all spit and teeth, hunger and salt.
I bit his lip, tongue pushing inside, drinking him down, every groan and gasp echoing through my body.
The taste of his mouth was pure fire—cologne and sweat, the tang of spit and something uniquely him, the aftertaste of everything filthy we’d just done.
My hands roamed wild, greedy, up over his ribs and shoulders, mapping hard muscle and slick skin, nails dragging through the line of hair down his chest, catching on the silver chain at his throat.
My tongue licked a path down his jaw, chasing the stubble and salt, savoring the sting of it on my swollen lips.
Lips wandered lower, tongue darting across the arch of his collarbone, then burying in the dark hollow of his armpit—hot, wet, musky, thick with the scent of sex and stress and man.
My lungs filled with him, breathing in the pure proof of how alive he was, how close, how desperately I needed every inch.
“God, you smell fucking incredible,” I panted, lips slick, mouth greedy as I licked the sweat from his skin, tongue swirling, teeth grazing until Amir shuddered and snarled, grinding harder against me.
A thigh wedged between my legs, spreading me wide, pinning me tighter. His cock slapped against my own, both of us hot, swollen, leaking, the friction electric. Amir’s hand wrapped around both shafts at once, squeezing, grinding, the slide of skin on skin making me gasp and twitch.
The rhythm started slow—long, rolling strokes, his palm trapping us together, heat building between our bodies, sweat slicking our bellies. Every time his wrist rolled up, the silver of his watch flashed at the edge of my vision, a hypnotic stutter that matched the pounding of my pulse.
“Feel that?” Amir whispered, mouth pressed to my ear, voice rough and wrecked. “You’re burning for me. All of you. I want to fuck you against this wall, want to ruin you, and make you scream my name.”
A guttural noise tore out of me, hips rolling, chasing every slippery drag of his fist, every jolt of friction.
My cock throbbed against his, the difference in girth making each grind more obscene, every vein and ridge pronounced and wet.
His other hand slid up to my throat, fingers curling possessive and gentle around my neck, squeezing just enough to make me gasp, to remind me who held all the power.