19. One Day at a Time #4
He started to lose his composure, every breath turning to a moan, every muscle in his legs and abs flexing as I swallowed him deeper. I looked up at him, eyes watering, wanting him to see what he was doing to me.
“Jesus Christ, Rowan,” he gasped, “You look so good like that. Taking daddy’s cock. Fuck.”
I pulled off with a gasp, a long strand of spit connecting my lips to his cock. I jacked him with both hands, loving the way his length dwarfed my grip, then leaned in, licking the head, sucking on it, flicking my tongue over the slit, tasting every drop of precome he gave me.
“Tell me you love it,” he demanded, voice rough and low, one hand tight in my hair.
“I love it, daddy,” I moaned, licking down the shaft, sucking his balls into my mouth, tonguing the sensitive skin, dragging my teeth over him. “Love how big you are. Love how you fill my mouth. No one else could ever do this to me.”
He shuddered, thighs quivering, abs flexing. “You’re fucking filthy,” he said, but there was nothing but awe and pride in his voice. “You want daddy to fuck your throat?”
“Yes. Please. Use me. Want to choke on you.”
He didn’t need more encouragement. He guided my mouth back down, slow at first, letting me adjust, pushing a little deeper each time. I let him control the rhythm, let him use me, spit and precome running down my chin, my chest.
He started to fuck my mouth, shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, hitting the back of my throat, making me gag and drool and moan around him. I relaxed, let my throat open, let myself be used, hands gripping his thighs for leverage .
“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he groaned. “You take it so good. My good boy. My perfect little cocksucker.”
I moaned around him, the praise going straight to my cock, making me rut against the bed, desperate for friction. The world was reduced to the weight of him in my mouth, the rough velvet of his voice, and the way my body trembled with every filthy word.
Suddenly, Elias pulled me off him, hands strong but careful in my hair.
I blinked up, breathless, spit slick on my chin, wondering if I’d done something wrong.
But his eyes were wild, dark with a hunger I’d never seen before—a hunger to take, to give, to make me fall apart the way I’d just made him.
He surged up, flipping me onto my back in one smooth motion, hands everywhere—gripping, exploring, claiming. I shivered, letting him manhandle me, letting myself be taken, worshipped, undone.
“Your turn,” he growled, voice so low it vibrated through me. “Let me take care of you, baby. Let me see you come apart for daddy.”
My breath hitched as he slid down my body, mouth hot on my throat, biting at my pulse point, then sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
His hands slid under my thighs, spreading me wide, pulling me closer until I was pinned beneath him, bare except for my underwear, cock straining, leaking, desperate for his touch.
He bent, nuzzling into my neck, breathing me in, teeth scraping over my skin. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmured, voice almost reverent. “Could get drunk on you.”
I arched into him, hands fisting in his hair, gasping as he mouthed down my chest, biting at my nipples, sucking and licking until they ached, every nerve ending lit up. “Fuck, Elias—more, please, more?—”
He grinned against my skin, wicked and soft all at once, then kissed his way lower, dragging his tongue along the ridge of my abs, dipping into my navel, making me shudder. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my briefs and glanced up for permission.
“Take them off,” I panted, hips already lifting, offering myself up. “Want you to see me. Want you to touch me.”
He peeled them down, slow at first, then fast, exposing me, bare and aching, cock flushed dark and slick with precome. He tossed my underwear aside and knelt between my legs, just staring for a moment, drinking in every inch of me.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, hands sliding up my thighs, over my hips, cupping my ass, squeezing. He leaned down, pressing his face into my pits, inhaling deep, groaning like it was the best thing he’d ever smelled.
“You like that?” I teased, breath coming fast. “Like my pits, daddy?”
He growled, licking a stripe up the sensitive skin, biting down, marking me. The sensation was filthy, electric—his tongue hot, his stubble scratching, his hands never still.
“Love it,” he admitted, voice raw. “Could stay here all fucking night.”
He moved lower, mouth finding the crease where thigh met hip, licking, biting, then moving to my cock. He stared at it for a beat, awe and hunger fighting for dominance in his eyes.
“You want to taste me?” I whispered, threading my fingers through his hair, guiding him.
He nodded, swallowing hard, then leaned in and licked a slow, wet stripe from base to tip, tongue swirling around the head, tasting the precome.
“Yeah, just like that,” I murmured, encouraging, gentle. “You can go slow. Use your tongue. Don’t worry about going deep at first. Just make it wet, make it messy.”
He did as I asked, tentative at first—lips soft, tongue shy, but eager to please. He licked around the head, then sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue, watching my reaction. I moaned, hips bucking up, and he pressed my thighs down, holding me still, learning how to control me.
“Good,” I gasped, voice breaking. “You’re so fucking good, Elias. Suck it, baby. Use your hand too—yeah, like that.”
He wrapped his fist around the base, squeezing, stroking in time with his mouth. He sucked harder, taking more of me each time, spit dribbling down his chin, eyes locked on mine.
“God, you look so fucking hot,” I groaned, fingers tightening in his hair. “Daddy on his knees for me. Who knew you’d be so good at this?”
He pulled off with a gasp, eyes glazed, breath ragged. “Tell me what you like. Tell me how to make you come.”
“Just like that,” I panted, “but wetter. Get it sloppy, use your tongue, fuck—I wanna see how much you want it.”
He grinned, emboldened, and dove back in, sucking me deep, drool and precome mixing, making everything slick. He licked up and down my shaft, sucked my balls into his mouth, tongued the sensitive skin beneath, making me thrash and curse and beg.
“Fuck, Elias—gonna come if you keep that up?—”
He pulled off, grinning, cocky now. “Good. That’s what I want. Want to see you lose it. Want to taste you.”
He dove back down, taking me deeper, sucking hard, hand stroking what his mouth couldn’t reach. I rocked into him, hips jerking, the heat and pressure building, his praise and hunger fueling the fire.
“Yeah, that’s it—fuck, you’re so good, daddy. My good daddy—taking care of his boy—making me feel so fucking good?—”
He groaned, vibrations running up my cock, sending me spiraling. I felt the orgasm build, white-hot and inevitable, every muscle tensing.
But just as I was about to tip over, Elias pulled his mouth away, a string of spit and precome connecting us. He looked up, eyes dark and wild, a wicked smile curling his lips. “Not yet,” he said, voice wrecked, rough with need. “You’re not getting off that easy, baby.”
He didn’t give me a chance to protest—just manhandled me, flipping me onto my stomach, broad hands rough but sure, pushing me down into the sheets.
My face pressed into the mattress, breath coming hot and shaky, heart hammering as he took my hips in his grip and hauled my ass up, leaving me bare and exposed.
“Look at you,” he growled, kneeling behind me, hands squeezing my ass, spreading me wide.
“So fucking pretty. All mine.” He bent and pressed a kiss to the small of my back, then trailed his tongue lower, biting at the flesh, licking up sweat, leaving marks everywhere his mouth touched. “You trust me?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, voice muffled by the sheets. “I trust you. Do anything you want, daddy.”
He groaned, the word making him grip me even harder. His thumbs spread me wider, exposing me, and then he was licking lower, tongue dragging between my cheeks, teasing at my hole. The first touch of his tongue there made me jolt, a helpless noise spilling out of me.
“Shit, Elias—” I gasped, shuddering. “You ever done this before?”
He pulled back for just a second, breath hot against my skin. “Never. But I want to. Want to see you fall apart for me.”
God, the way he said it—possessive and awestruck, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to have this—made me even harder, my cock leaking onto the sheets.
He dove back in, licking a slow circle around my hole, then pressing his tongue in, tentative at first, then bolder as I rocked back against him. His beard scratched at sensitive skin, his tongue hot and wet, and I could barely think, just feel.
I guided him, hips rocking, hand fisted in the sheets. “Yeah, just like that—use your tongue, make it wet. You’re so good, daddy. You’re making me crazy.”
He moaned into me, vibrations sending shockwaves through my whole body. His hands gripped my ass, kneading, spreading, holding me open so he could lick deeper, eating me out like he was starving, devouring every sound I made.
He pulled back only to spit on my hole, spreading it with his thumb, then pushing his tongue back in, fucking me with it. I pushed back, shameless, wanting more, wanting him inside me in every way.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered, mouth sloppy, voice full of hunger and pride. “Bet you want more, don’t you?”
“Please,” I gasped, “Fingers, tongue—want it all.”
He slicked his fingers with spit and pressed one inside, slow and careful, watching for any sign of discomfort. When I groaned and pushed back, he added another, stretching me, scissoring his fingers, curling them to hit just the right spot.
My whole body lit up, heat rolling through me in waves. I rocked into his touch, moaning, babbling praise and filth, letting him see how much I wanted it, how much I wanted him .