Chapter 2 #2
I can already tell I’m going to spend a lifetime jerking off to this exact moment, so I take my time memorizing every detail of the way his lips look wrapped around me, the glisten of his saliva on my length every time I pull out, and the hungry sound he makes each time I fill his throat again.
His dark nipples are stiff, and I can see the clear, sticky precum oozing from his slit, smearing across his skin where his cockhead is peeking above the waistband of his briefs now.
It might be nice to have a name to go with the memory, considering I already have so many nameless faces in my head.
But it doesn’t seem fair to ask when I won’t… and can’t… tell him mine.
I’m tired of thinking so much though, so I let all of that go for now and focus on feeling. Feeling the silky slide of his tongue, the pressure of his lips and throat, and the warmth in my gut that reminds me that I’m able to feel something other than darkness and rage for a few minutes at a time.
ALESSIO
How I ended up on my knees with this unnamed man fucking my throat isn’t entirely clear to me, but I’m not mad about it.
Lapping at the salty drip of precum oozing from his slit every time he pulls out and moaning around the stiff length of his cock each time he thrusts back in is infinitely better than what I was doing before he broke in.
A guy can only spend so many nights jerking off and scrolling true crime subreddits before it’s just pathetic.
He grunts and tightens his grip on my hair.
The sharp sting of the tug sends pleasure racing down my spine.
My cock spasms in a desperate bid for friction, relief, anything.
But with my hands tied behind my back, I can’t worry about getting myself off, and that’s exactly the kind of relief I need right now.
I can’t worry about anything other than opening my mouth and letting this gorgeous tattooed man with the deep voice and ice-cold eyes use me any way he wants.
I don’t deserve any kind of heaven, but damn if this doesn’t feel like one anyway.
He thrusts faster, grunting and growling with pleasure every time his cock breaches the tight muscles at the back of my throat, and I have to swallow around him to take him deeper.
I gag this time, my throat squeezing around him involuntarily, my stomach tightening and my cock jerking wildly again as my whole body clenches. He moans and bucks his hips.
“There’s a good slut,” he groans. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Choking on my cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for.”
I would nod if I could, but I can’t, so I moan instead before he shoves himself deep again, cutting off the sound.
Drool dribbles from the corners of my lips and tears leak from my eyes, trailing down my cheeks as I drag in a quick breath when he pulls out and then fills my throat again.
Life would be so much simpler if this really was the only thing I was good for.
No interoffice politics that could end with me dead at the bottom of a ravine, no quotas or rival mobs or any of the other bullshit.
At least for a few minutes I can pretend.
I can focus on the ache in my knees and the feeling of the ropes dragging against my wrists, leaving burns on my skin.
I can live in a world of his moans and the thrust of his cock between my lips. I can be his slut and not Alessio.
“Fuck, here it comes,” he pants. “Swallow like a good slut.”
I whimper around his cock and pull back just a little, just enough that when he lets out a shout and his cock starts to pulse, I get the first hot, salty shot of his cum right on my tongue.
I moan around him and my balls tighten, but there’s not enough friction to get me over the edge, so my cock just twitches helplessly, desperately, while he shoves his cock deep again and breeds my throat just like I begged for.
I swallow and suck greedily, sloppily, fucking ravenously, starving for every last drop of his release. His moans and praise echo in my ears and temporarily smooth over the cracks inside me that will be broken again by morning.
He slips his dripping wet, softening cock out of my mouth and I lean forward, chasing it, not ready to let go of this feeling.
My own cock is still throbbing for relief, but it’s a distant thought in my mind as I look up at him towering over me.
There’s a flicker in his dark eyes that almost looks like affection for half a second before he bends down, bringing his mouth an inch from mine.
Is he going to kiss me? My eyelids flutter closed again and I sway forward.
But no kiss comes. He makes another one of those sounds that’s almost a laugh and drags his thumb along my bottom lip, catching some of the stray cum and saliva there and shoving it back into my mouth.
The taste of the leather mixed with his cum has my balls constricting again and another needy sound tightening in my throat.
“Apology accepted,” he whispers, and then he pulls away, taking his thumb, the sugary smell on his breath, and everything else with him.
My eyes snap open and I tug at the ropes binding my wrists as he tucks his spent cock away and zips up.
Then, he makes his way around the kitchen, grabbing his pistol off my island and shoving it into the back of his jeans again.
He pulls the mask onto his head so I can only see his eyes and slings his backpack over his shoulder.
He’s leaving?
I scramble to figure out the right words to make him stay.
But that’s insane. He broke into my apartment.
Of course he’s not going to stay the night.
He stops in front of me one more time and looks down at me.
I can only imagine what I look like, bound and so fucking horny still that I can’t even think straight, squirming to get the knots loose before he can leave.
He tugs his mask up to expose his mouth one more time, and all I can do is stare at his lips.
He brings one hand to his mouth and uses his teeth to tug the glove off, then he stoops down one last time and shoves the glove into my briefs.
I gasp at the feeling of the smooth, soft leather against my sensitive, desperate cock, warm from his skin as he molds it around my erection.
“There, now you can think of me once you manage to get yourself free. Go ahead and jerk off with my glove and the taste of my cum still on your lips.” He winks and my hips twitch.
And just as fast as he showed up in my apartment, he’s gone. The clomp of his boots fades as he makes his way through the living room, and then I hear the creak of the window as he closes it behind him.
I curse and struggle against the rope for a good five minutes before I manage to work the knot loose.
He’s already long gone, so I don’t bother running to check.
No, I do exactly what he told me to—I shove my hand down my briefs, wrap my fingers around his leather glove, and jerk myself off so frantically that my thighs tremble and a sob tightens my throat, licking my lips the whole time to chase the lingering flavor of his cum.
My hips snap wildly and I fall forward to brace my free hand on the floor, humping a fucking leather glove and whining wordlessly because I don’t even have a name to call out as my balls constrict and my skin heats.
Instead, I just sob loudly as I grind my cock into the glove and fill it with rope after rope of my trembling, gasping release.
Lying on the floor with the cum-soaked leather glove down my briefs, trying to catch my breath, there’s only one question on my mind…
How can I find him again without knowing his name?