Chapter 4 #4
“Want to taste you,” he whispered, mouth pressed to my hipbone, voice trembling with restraint. “Want to lick you open, fuck you with my tongue, make you beg for my cock.”
My knees nearly gave out. I grabbed his shoulders, anchoring myself. “Yeah? You want to ruin me?” My voice was a broken taunt, thick with want.
He grinned, feral and hungry, lips brushing the outline of my cock through damp cotton. “You already look ruined for me, sweetheart.”
The words made me tremble. My cock throbbed, my hole clenched, and I ground against his mouth, needing more. He groaned, burying his face against my bulge, inhaling like he could get drunk on my scent.
He stood, pinning me to the wall again, hands everywhere, lips everywhere, and I let him, let him take what he wanted, let him worship me with hands and mouth and filthy, reverent words. Each touch, each kiss, was a promise of what was coming, of everything forbidden we were about to break.
We weren’t lovers. We weren’t a couple. We were just need and heat and the ache to be seen, to be worshiped, to be undone—right here, clothed and desperate and so fucking close to the edge I could barely stand it.
Air burned in my lungs, chest heaving as Edward’s hands mapped my skin, greedy and unhurried, like every inch was a secret only he deserved to discover.
His lips tasted my throat, jaw, the curve of my shoulder, each kiss a brand.
The wall pressed into my spine, his weight pinning me so I couldn’t do anything but feel and want, lose myself to the hunger twisting between us.
A low rumble vibrated against my mouth as his grip tightened beneath my thighs, hoisting me up with practiced strength.
My legs wrapped around his waist without thought, arms thrown around his neck, and the world tilted as he carried me toward the bed.
The room blurred past, all color and shadow and the buzz of my own pulse in my ears.
The mattress hit my back with a jolt, Edward braced above me, his body a cage, breath warm against my lips.
His cock pressed against my hip, hard and leaking, the heat of him radiating through the thin cotton of his briefs. My palm found him, squeezing slow and deliberate, loving the guttural sound that broke from his throat.
“Want you to make me wet for you,” he growled, voice so low it barely sounded human. “Want you to ruin me through these fucking boxers.”
Fingers dug into his waistband, teasing the edge, but not pulling away his last layer.
Instead, I leaned in, mouth dragging down his chest, tongue tracing the lines I’d already learned, nipping at the ridge of his abs, then further down, leaving a trail of spit and teeth.
His whole body trembled, muscles flexing under my hands.
His head tipped back, surrendering to the worship.
Words spilled from my lips, filthy and soft.
“So hard for me already, aren’t you?” My hand cupped him, squeezing, thumb tracing the fat head outlined in damp cotton.
My tongue flicked out, tasting the wet spot, savoring the salty tang as I mouthed at the shape of him, slow and dirty, breath hot enough to make him shiver.
His hips jerked up, cock rutting into my mouth through the barrier of his briefs.
I sucked, hard, drawing another desperate groan from him.
My hands roamed up, dragging his boxers lower so I could fit him deeper against my lips, still hidden, still contained, but leaking for me, soaking the fabric until it clung to every inch.
“Fuck, Miles, just like that,” he panted, voice gone soft with awe.
Fingers threaded through my hair, guiding me, but never forcing, letting me set the pace.
I licked and sucked at him, loving the feel of his cock pulsing, loving how undone he was for me—Edward Walsh, always so polished, always so in control, now nothing but need and want beneath my mouth.
Pulling back, I peppered kisses up his belly, dragging my tongue along the faint trail of hair, biting his hip just to hear the sharp inhale, the shudder that traveled through him.
My hands slid up his sides, thumbs brushing his nipples, pinching until he gasped and arched for me, desperate for more.
Every sound he made went straight to my cock, leaking now, the head slick and aching inside my own underwear.
A shaky laugh slipped from my lips, mouth still slick with spit and the salt of Edward’s skin.
Need pulsed between us—messy, hungry, almost animal in the way it demanded everything, all at once.
My gaze flicked up, caught his eyes, and I saw it there, that wild want, the gleam that said he was about to ruin me in ways I’d never admit I wanted.
His palm caught my jaw, thumb tracing my lower lip, and the next thing I knew, a fat string of spit dropped from his mouth onto my tongue.
Hot and sudden, the taste was sharp, heavy with want.
My lips closed, swallowing him down, and I moaned, arching into his hold.
When he leaned in to kiss me again, the kiss was wet, obscene, spit mingling as tongues slid and teeth clashed.
We broke apart, both breathing hard, faces slick with our mess.
A wicked grin ghosted across his lips, and he spat again, this time right into my open mouth—slow, deliberate, watching my throat work as I swallowed every drop.
“That’s it, good boy,” he rasped, voice ruined, thick with approval.
“You love it, don’t you? Letting daddy mark you from the inside out. ”
My cock throbbed at the praise, at the heat in his tone, at the way my body melted under the weight of his gaze.
Spit gathered on my own tongue, and I spat it right back into his mouth, daring him to take it, to swallow me down in turn.
His mouth crashed against mine, teeth biting at my bottom lip as he groaned deep in his chest.
Arms flexed around me, muscle shifting under skin as he drew me in close, his biceps thick and hard where I clung.
“Want to see you worship me,” he growled, rolling his shoulders, arms bunching as he pressed his pits up near my face.
“You want to taste how much you make me sweat, baby? Want to show me how filthy you can be for daddy?”
A dark thrill shot through me, sending a shiver from my scalp to the soles of my feet.
My hands gripped his wrists, guiding his arms up, burying my face in the warm, musky heat of his armpit.
The scent hit me—male, spicy, edged with deodorant but overwhelmed by the rawness of sweat and need.
My tongue darted out, licking up the salty skin, tasting every drop, savoring the earthy tang.
My moan vibrated against him, lips sealing around the pit as I sucked, drawing his sweat into my mouth, marking myself with his scent.
Edward flexed for me, muscle twitching beneath my tongue, biceps bulging as he watched me defile myself on him. “That’s it, get daddy nice and wet. Want you covered in me. Gonna fuck you so full, make you take it all, breed you until you can’t even think of anyone else.”
The filthy words poured over me, each one stoking the desperate ache in my gut.
My cock leaked, wet patch spreading across my underwear, sticky and hot as I ground down against his thigh.
My mouth moved to his other pit, licking, biting, drinking him in until my face was slick with sweat, my brain high on the taste and smell of him.
My breath came in ragged bursts, face slick with sweat and spit, high on the taste of him—musky, intoxicating, and all-consuming.
Edward’s scent clung to my skin, every inhale deepening the hunger curling inside me, stretching me tight with want.
My jaw ached from the worship, tongue working every inch he offered, greedy to leave no part untouched.
Fingers gripped my hair, strong enough to sting, and dragged my mouth from his pit.
The sudden shift sent a wild jolt through me.
I barely had time to gasp before Edward’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck, shoving me down onto the mattress, cheek pressed to the sheets still warm from his body.
One palm pressed between my shoulder blades, holding me down, ownership written in every rough touch.
“Stay,” he ordered, voice thick and ruined with need.
The command shot straight to my core, my cock twitching hard against the bed.
Fabric strained against my hips, sticky with precome and sweat, aching to be freed.
I clawed at the sheets, a low whine building in my throat, needing him everywhere, needing to be filled and marked and ruined just for him.
Weight shifted behind me, heat radiating from his body as he moved up between my spread thighs.
His hands—big, rough, sure—slid up my legs, kneading muscle, squeezing my ass until my hips bucked back in helpless invitation.
Teeth grazed the curve of my hip, followed by a sharp bite that made me curse, every nerve ending flaring awake.
Cold air hit my ass as he hooked his fingers into my waistband, boxers stretched tight across my skin.
Instead of peeling them down, he gripped both sides and yanked, the cotton giving way with a vicious rip.
The sound of tearing fabric sent a thrill straight through my spine.
I gasped, breath stuttering, suddenly bare, exposed, skin prickling with anticipation.
A rough palm slid up, caressing the curve of my ass, spreading me open with a possessive grip that left no room for doubt.
Fingers dug into my flesh, forcing me wider, baring everything to his gaze.
Silence stretched, thick and heavy, as he looked his fill—no rush, no shame, just raw, hungry appreciation.