Chapter 6 #3
Reaching into his nightstand, he pulls out a condom and some lube, palming the supplies as he mounts the bed, prowling over to me.
When his dick is right in my face, he rolls his hips so his cock slides over my lips. I moan at the feel of him, pursing my lips so he can drag his shaft across them.
He grunts, then says, “Open and suck all of me, Lane. Every inch.”
I’m not sure it’s possible, but I want to make him happy, want to please him by doing what he says.
Opening wide, I draw as much of his length inside as I can, groaning when his hot, salty precum hits my tongue. Relaxing my throat, I take in more and more until my nose hits his pubic bone, and I feel his balls against my chin.
Ryell curses roughly as I gag over and over around his length. Wetness spills from my mouth, down my chin and over his cock and balls.
Through the tears clouding my eyes, I look up at Ryell, seeing his head thrown back and his chest pumping harshly.
His hand cards through my hair, and he holds me steady as he rocks into my mouth.
I continue to gag, my mouth getting wetter and my dick getting harder as he uses me roughly.
My oxygen supply is cut off and my head feels light and floaty, but fuck, I want this.
My lungs burn with the need to breathe, but if this is how I go, what a way to die.
Just when I think I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen, Ryell eases his dick from my mouth, allowing me to pull in a deep, ragged breath.
He grins and cups himself with his free hand, rubbing his wet dick over my messy face. “So fucking good, Lane. Open again. Let me fuck your throat.”
Eagerly, I try to unhinge my jaw like a fucking snake, sticking my tongue out. Ryell slaps his cock across its surface a few times before he shoves inside. He pushes all the way to the back of my throat and snaps his hips forward, fucking my face hard and rough.
My throat burns from the brutal usage, but I want it so fucking bad. Pleasure sparks against my skin as Ryell’s thick mushroom head bumps my tonsils. My eyes roll into the back of my head at the sheer ecstasy of how he’s using me. Right now, I’m just a hole, meant only for his pleasure.
My dick throbs, my orgasm at the tip, ready to explode out of me.
A moan pushes past my lips as Ryell’s fingers dig hard into my hair, holding me still so he can fuck my throat in earnest. I close my eyes and try to keep my release at bay, but it’s a losing battle.
No one has ever used me like this, so hard but so in control.
I peer up at him, begging for something I can’t name. A flash of danger enters his eyes, and it’s that look that tips me over the edge, and I come hard, my back bowing off the bed and garbled moans drifting around Ryell’s rock-hard cock.
“Fuck, Lane. Blowing your load for me from sucking my dick? So. Fucking. Hot.” He punctuates every word with a hard shove into my mouth.
“Oh fuck,” Ryell groans as he picks up the pace.
My orgasm goes on and on, hot ropes of my release landing on my belly.
“So fucking good.” Ryell drags two fingers through my release and stuffs them into his mouth, growling deep in his chest as he sucks my cum from the digits.
“You taste fucking amazing.” He grips my hair tighter in his hands, and his cock swells in my mouth. I whimper around him.
With a roar, he announces, “I’m coming.” He pulls his dick from my mouth and explodes all over my face. His cum lands on my chin, cheeks, and into my open and waiting mouth. I swallow as much as I can, getting full of his essence.
Ryell rubs his seed into my skin, smiling almost menacingly at me. “You did so good for me.” I fucking preen from his compliment. Tears still blur my vision, my lips feel swollen and my throat burns but knowing I did good for him makes me forget all that shit.
He climbs off the bed, grabs a cloth, and wipes my face.
After he tosses the cloth away, he settles between my legs and kisses me hard, his tongue lapping at my slack mouth.
I’m boneless, not feeling like I can move, but my dick rallies, hardening as soon as his lips touch mine, twitching with my need.
Through rough kisses, Ryell says, “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?”
I shake my head, though that’s exactly what I thought. I’m no spring chicken—my refractory period has never been this quick—and Ryell has to be a few years older. But he seems like he has the stamina of a man in his early twenties. If I get to feel his big dick inside me, I can keep up.
Ryell’s fingers drift to my hole, and I moan loudly. When did he lube them up? I’m so fucking gone on him I didn’t even notice.
He quickly gets me ready, one finger, then two, then three inside me, pushing in and out and scissoring me open. He’s careful to only graze his fingers over my hot spot, and I wriggle in frustration that he’s not giving me more.
After a few more thrusts inside, Ryell pulls his digits free, grabs the condom, and rolls it on. He lubes himself, stroking over his covered cock.
Grabbing one of my legs, he pushes it back until it’s almost against my chest. I bring the other one up, giving him a view of my slick hole.
“I’m going to wreck this fucking pretty pucker,” he threatens in a voice of gravel. “My dick will be the only thing on your mind for days.”
“Please,” I whimper, sounding nothing like the take-charge FBI agent I am.
This is what I wanted for so long, but I was never able to articulate it to any of my partners. How does Ryell know this is what I need when we only just met?
Without another word, Ryell lines up with my hole and pushes inside at a measured pace.
I tense, the pain worse than I remember.
I haven’t bottomed in a while, though I’m vers.
Most men want me to top them because of my job.
Even in a relationship, my partners barely topped, wanting me to work out the frustrations of my job on their asses.
With Ryell, I want to submit, taking his commands and doing what he tells me. He can work out his frustrations on me.
When he’s fully seated inside me, we both groan loud enough to rattle the windows.
Ryell leans back, slowly running a finger around my stretched hole. “You look so fucking good with my dick inside of you. Now hold on while I wreck you.”
He snaps his hips before I can prepare myself, and I cry out, holding on to his biceps so he doesn’t push me up the bed. The drag of his dick inside me feels so fucking good it scrambles my brain.
Over and over he fucks into me, grunting with each stroke.
I babble and curse, trying to keep up, wanting more but also not able to take it. He’s hitting my spot so good precum leaks out of me in copious amounts.
“Mhm,” Ryell says, pressing a hand into my throat and squeezing. Not enough to completely cut off my air supply, but enough for me to know who is in control. “Tell me how it feels, Lane. Tell me you fucking love my dick.”
“I…love…your…dick…so…oh god…so…much…Harder, Ryell!”
He chuckles darkly, then lifts my hips until my ass cheeks are resting on his thighs.
Then he bends almost in half and locks his lips around me, sucking my crown.
He bobs his head up and down to the rhythm of his strokes.
My mouth drops open in disbelief as I watch him suck me off while he’s fucking me.
“Oh fuck!” I shout when he circles his tongue around my cockhead at the same time that he rolls his hips, the dual sensations way too much. He’s still gliding his dick into me and suckling on my cockhead feels obscene and too good for words. “Fucking….so fucking…flexible. Oh fuck me!”
The rumble of his laughter around my crown ratchets up my orgasm. Coupled with the drag of his dick inside me and I can’t hold back, tipping over the edge almost violently.
“Coming,” is all I manage to say before I explode, emptying my balls down Ryell’s throat. He swallows around me, though some of my cum leaks down my shaft. The whole while, he strokes inside me, bumping my prostate over and over.
Popping off my dick, Ryell surges up and kisses me hard, trading my eruption with me. My body trembles and convulses as he pegs my prostate, prolonging my orgasm.
My fucking head is a fuzzy mess, my mind still back on him sucking me while fucking me. I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before, and I’m fucking done.
Ryell groans against my lips, then pounds harder into me. I’m so sensitive from my nut, but I want him to come, want him to reach his peak just like—
“Open your fucking mouth, Lane,” Ryell growls and pulls out of my ass. He snatches the condom off and climbs up my body, jerking himself hard and fast. When I open, the first spurt of his seed hits my tongue. I moan and stick my tongue out, wanting more.
He roars over me, holding my head steady as he paints my face with his cum.
When he’s drained dry, he collapses beside me, that hot fucking dark chuckle leaving his throat. “You were fucking perfect, Lane.”
I try to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling erratically. I’ve never been so thoroughly and completely fucked. Never been used so fucking well that I can’t even think straight.
Closing my eyes, I try to get myself together so I can leave. I simply have to wait a few minutes for Ryell to drift off to sleep so I can sneak out.
He has my number, and I have his. When I get home, I’ll text him and tell him I had fun, but I needed to get home in time for work.
Just a few minutes.
I only need to rest for a few minutes.
My eyes snap open, and I sit up, taking in my surroundings. Faint light streams through the window across from the bed, and I curse.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I planned to fake it long enough for Ryell to drop off into dreamland, then tiptoe down the stairs for my walk of shame.
Glancing over at him, I see he’s fast asleep in the same spot he landed in when he rolled off me, arms and legs spread wide, his soft but heavy cock resting against his thigh.
My mouth waters to suck him down, to wake him up for another round of the most explosive sex of my life, but I ignore the urge. I need to get home and process what the fuck just happened.
I willingly gave up control to a stranger; someone I only met last night. And I fucking liked it and want it again, over and over.
But did Ryell think this was a hookup? Did he think this was a one-and-done, because we both had fucked-up days?
Probably.
“Fucking hell,” I whisper, sliding out of bed to gather my clothes and my shoes.
I pad toward the door, careful not to make any noise. When I open it, I wince when it creaks, but when I look over my shoulder, Ryell hasn’t moved an inch.
As quietly as I can, I slip into the hallway, where I get dressed quickly. I still have cum on my cheek, and I use my undershirt to scrub it away. I can shower when I get home.
I walk down the stairs on silent feet, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Ryell doesn’t see me sneaking off.
When I get to the front door, I try to open it, but it doesn’t budge. Frowning, I flip the bolts and try again, but nothing happens.
“The fuck?” My heart hammers as I study the door, trying to figure out what’s going on. I focus on one of the bolts and see it has a light that’s blinking red. He must have one of those locks that’s operated remotely to keep anyone from entering by picking them.
No way am I going back upstairs to ask him to unlock the door for me.
I look around for another exit and see a hallway. It must lead to a back door.
I hurry in that direction, checking my pocket for my keys.
When I step into the kitchen, I see two doors. The one that leads to the back door, which also has the red blinking light.
I really could just ask Ryell for help, but I’ve already come this far; I can get out of here without looking like a complete slut.
The other door is cracked open, and a faint noise is coming from below. Almost like a whimper but not quite. “The fuck?” I say again, pulling the door open wider. The noise comes again, just as faint.
Fuck, I wish I had my weapon, but I locked it up, along with my badge, in my glove compartment before I entered the bar.
My instincts tell me not to engage, but if there’s something untoward down there, I need to check it out.
On ninja toes, I venture down the stairs, wishing I had my gun or at least some sort of weapon. Too late for me to go back upstairs and grab a knife, and I can’t seem to find my keys to use those.
Hitting the bottom landing, I look left and right, then head to the right where I see a faint shaft of light.
I step inside of a room, and my lungs seize. Across from me is a cell. A real live fucking jail cell, the door thrown open. A few feet away is a dental chair resting over a linoleum floor with a grate underneath it.
The fuck is going on? Why does Ryell have this in his basement? Is he…is he kidnapping people? Is that…is that fucking blood on the straps of that chair? Fuck, this is bad. This is really fucking bad. Who the fuck did I just let fuck me into the mattress? What kind of sick fuck is he?
It takes a moment for my training to kick in, but when it does, I look around at as much as I can catalog, so when I get far enough away, I can call this in and have the FBI swarming this place.
Belatedly, I remember my fucking cell phone. I slide my hand into my pocket where I usually stash it but come up empty. I feel the other pocket, but nothing.
What the—
A prick on the side of my neck has me whirling around, locking eyes with Ryell. Through the haze that quickly descends over me, I meet his gaze and see…nothing. The man I just submitted to is gone, and in his place is a robot that reflects no emotion.
As if from far away, I hear him say, “Sleep well, Agent Bauer,” as I drop to my knees.
Before I can catch myself, I topple forward, smacking my head hard on the floor. But the pain doesn’t register. In fact, nothing penetrates as the fog blankets me, and I see no more.