Chapter 22 Ravenswood’s Mercy #4
He palmed himself, thumb circling the head, then let his cock fall across his palm, slapping it gently, a filthy little smile tugging at his lips as he played with himself. He pinched his nipple with his free hand, gasping at the sensation, his hips rocking forward, cock jumping in his fist.
“You like watching?” he teased, voice hoarse with arousal.
“I could watch you forever,” I answered, honest to the bone, hungry for him in a way that was more than physical. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Cal.”
He grinned and leaned forward to claim my mouth in a kiss so deep I nearly forgot to breathe. His cock pressed against my stomach, hot and hard, leaving a smear of precome on my skin. He sucked my lower lip between his teeth, bit down, then licked the sting away.
Still stroking himself, he leaned back, letting me watch the way his hand worked his length, the way his chest heaved, nipples hard and red from his own rough touch.
He pressed his other hand to my chest, pinning me, just enough pressure to remind me that I was bound, that I’d surrendered everything to him.
“You ever want to be used?” he murmured, grinding against my thigh, letting his cock rub against my skin.
“Yes,” I admitted, the word punched out of me by need. “By you, always.”
He groaned, rolling his hips, jerking himself faster now, gaze burning into mine. “Good,” he said, voice a broken promise. “Because tonight, you’re mine.”
He bent again, licking a line up my throat, nipping at my jaw, sucking a mark behind my ear that would last for days. His hand slid down my body, squeezing my thigh, then cupping my balls through the fabric, rolling them gently before letting go, making me ache for more.
Cal slid his body down, mouth worshipping every inch until he knelt between my legs, looking up with eyes gone black with hunger. He pressed a final kiss to the tip of my cock, through the thin cotton, making me jolt and writhe, helpless, desperate, utterly his.
Cal didn’t hesitate.
One tug and my underwear was gone, ripped clean off my hips and tossed aside like it had never mattered.
Cool air hit my cock for half a second before heat replaced it—before Cal’s hands were on me, greedy and possessive, fingers wrapping around my length like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.
He pushed his own underwear down and kicked it away without looking, bare and hard and unapologetic, but his attention never left me.
Never left my cock.
“Fuck,” I breathed, straining uselessly against the silk at my wrists as he leaned in, nose dragging slowly along my shaft. He inhaled like my scent alone could wreck him, like he needed it in his lungs, in his bones. The sound he made went straight through me.
Cal licked me from base to tip in one long, deliberate stroke, tongue flat and slow, gathering the pre-come that had already slicked the head. He circled it with intent, dragging his tongue through the sensitive seam, tasting me like he was cataloguing every reaction, every shudder.
“So fucking perfect,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent and filthy all at once.
Then he took me into his mouth.
No teasing this time. No easing in. He swallowed me down to the back of his throat in one relentless motion, lips stretching, jaw working as he took me deep enough to make my vision white out.
I cried out, hips jerking hard enough that the restraints bit into my skin, my whole body arching as if I could somehow force myself deeper.
Cal moaned around me, the vibration obscene, and pulled back just enough to breathe before diving back down again. He set a brutal rhythm—fast, unyielding, his head bobbing with intent as his hands locked onto my thighs, holding me in place like I might disappear if he didn’t anchor me there.
I writhed, every muscle trembling, cock leaking steadily into his mouth as he sucked with purpose, cheeks hollowed, tongue relentless.
He pulled off with a wet sound and immediately went lower, licking down my shaft, over my balls, dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin until I was shaking apart.
He pressed his nose to my taint and inhaled again, like he couldn’t get enough of me. Then his tongue flicked out before he flattened it and licked me there properly, tasting every reaction he tore out of me.
“Cal—fuck—” My voice broke completely as he went back to my cock, licking from the base upward, saliva slicking me up until I was a mess for him. He sucked the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with maddening precision, flicking the spot that made my hips buck uncontrollably.
He pulled back again, spit dripping down my shaft, and dragged both hands over me, coating me in it, stroking slow just to make me suffer.
Then he leaned in and kissed the head of my cock—soft, almost tender—before opening his mouth and taking me deep again, deeper this time, throat relaxing around me as he worked me without mercy.
I could feel every inch of him, the heat, the pressure, the way he refused to give me a second to recover. My abs clenched, back arching, breath coming in ragged, broken gasps as he fucked my cock with his mouth like it belonged to him.
“God, you’re huge,” he muttered against my skin, voice wrecked. “Can’t get enough of you.”
He went back up, sucking hard, one hand squeezing my balls, rolling them gently and then not so gently, pushing me right to the edge without letting me fall. I thrashed beneath him, helpless, every nerve on fire, cock aching, desperate for release I wasn’t allowed yet.
Cal kept going. Relentless. Filthy. Rough.
My hips lifted off the bed again and again, chasing his mouth, chasing more, but he controlled the pace, the depth, the torment.
I was shaking by the time he finally pulled off, my cock slick and flushed and leaking, my body wrung out and desperate.
Cal was breathless above me, lips red and spit-slick, the lines of his body caught between tension and triumph.
He pushed up on his knees, straddling my chest, his cock bobbing just above my face.
For a moment he just hovered there, staring down at me, eyes wild and blown black with want.
My mouth watered at the sight, the need to taste him eclipsing everything else.
“Come here,” I rasped, voice half gone, raw from begging. “Feed me your cock, Cal. I want you in my mouth.”
He cupped the base, lined himself up, and let the head drag across my lips—slow, claiming, painting my mouth with his scent.
I opened wide, tongue flicking out to taste him, and he groaned—one hand steadying himself on the headboard, the other guiding his length into my mouth. The first taste was pure sin: salt and musk and something that belonged only to him, slick with need and with the tang of everything we’d done.
He fed himself to me, slow at first, letting me adjust to his weight and girth.
I relaxed my jaw, tongue cupping the underside, and he slid in deeper, his hips rocking forward until the head nudged the back of my throat.
My arms strained uselessly against the silk restraints, but all I wanted was to keep him there, to open wider, to give him everything.
He started to move, fucking my mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, never breaking eye contact. His gaze was dark and hungry, pupils blown wide, teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched me take him—willing, eager, hungry for more.
He pulled back, just enough for me to breathe, then pressed the head of his cock to my lips again, smearing pre-come across my tongue. My own cock throbbed, desperate and untouched, leaking onto my belly. I swallowed around him, humming, and his whole body shuddered with the force of it.
And then, something in me broke free. The need to surrender, to be owned, to have him mark me in a way no one else ever had. I looked up at him, voice wrecked, and said, “Piss in my mouth, Cal. I want all of you. Give it to me.”
His eyes went wide—shocked, aroused, and then, in a blink, utterly feral. He gripped the base of his cock tight, breath coming fast and hard as he hovered over my mouth, searching my face for any sign of doubt.
“You sure?” he rasped, voice unsteady.
“Yes. Please.” My answer was nothing but truth, nothing but raw need.
He nodded once, then let go. The first hot stream hit my tongue, briny and wild, and I swallowed it down without hesitation, taking everything he gave me.
The taste was primal, earthy, and it sent a shock straight to my cock—somewhere between humiliation and worship, between filth and absolute trust.
His cock jerked in my mouth, swelling even more as he emptied himself into me, his thighs trembling, body quaking with the force of it.
I swallowed it all, never breaking eye contact, letting him see the devotion, the surrender, the way I’d give him anything he asked for.
When the stream stopped, he nearly collapsed—hands braced on the headboard, chest heaving, sweat running in rivulets down his body. But the sight of me, ruined and hungry, only made him harder.
“God, Dom,” he gasped, voice shaking, “you’re fucking perfect. Fuck—let me—”
He slid down, repositioning so his cock hovered over my lips, still slick, the taste of him still on my tongue. I opened for him, needy and eager, and he fed himself to me again—this time harder, deeper, barely giving me time to adjust before he was fucking my mouth in earnest.
I relaxed my throat, letting him slide in deep, nose pressed to his belly, jaw aching but uncaring. I wanted the ache, wanted the bruises, wanted the sound of him losing himself above me. His hands tangled in my hair, not gentle now, guiding me, setting the rhythm—fast, filthy, desperate.