Chapter Six #2
He thought he was dreaming at first. His dreams had always been vivid and hyper-realistic, so the wet heat and gentle suction engulfing first one testicle, then the other, didn’t penetrate his sleep.
Neither did the throaty purr that hummed erotically along his nerves—it just blended into the dream, all lazy pleasure and erotic delight.
But when she sucked harder and scraped her teeth, ever so carefully, against the tender skin that tethered his balls to his body, his eyes shot open.
Her low laugh vibrated his nuts. “Finally. I was starting to feel irrelevant, here.”
He fought to swallow, blinked his eyes clear, and lifted his head.
She was crouched between his spread thighs, her dark hair a tousled halo around her head.
She wore an old T-shirt that had slipped down to expose one smooth shoulder and a wicked grin that he could only half see around the spear of his dick.
She angled her head to peer around it, her eyes dancing with a combination of laughter and lust that brought back a thousand memories. “Were you dreaming?”
“I thought I was,” he managed through the thickness in his throat. God, she was magnificent, bold and bright and everything he’d ever wanted. “Why are you sucking my balls?”
“Because I like it.” Holding his gaze, she dipped her head to wiggle her tongue between them in a teasing lick. “And because it’s my turn.”
He struggled to think. Difficult, since there was no blood left in his brain. “Your turn for what?”
“To be in charge.”
“Oh.” Her teeth scraped against his sac again, and he gave up trying to think. “Okay.”
She laughed again, a sound of unabashed delight that was almost as arousing as her hot, wet mouth. “You always were a man of few words when your balls were in play.”
“Blagarharah,” he agreed.
“Is that code for ‘please keep sucking my balls, Bailey’?” she wondered.
He would have answered—hell, he would’ve begged—but she was already slurping and sucking and nibbling away, humming with a kind of sadistic glee that thrilled him to his core.
She was feeling her power, reveling in it, and he wished he could see her eyes, just to watch her bask in the glory of it all.
He almost pulled her up by the hair tangled around his dick to do just that.
But that would snatch her power away, and he would’ve suffered the fires of hell before he did that.
Her mouth was hot and wet, her hands firm on his thighs.
She’d curled her fingers so her nails, kept short and neat for her work, dug into his skin, and the faint bite was just one more sensation piled on top of so many.
Memories flooded in, grabbing him by the balls just as much as she did, tangling remembered joy and stinging regret.
Determined to focus on the joy, he shifted his thighs, spreading them wide so she had unfettered access, and the gesture of surrender brought another wicked laugh.
She burrowed under his balls to stroke her tongue over his taint. The firm touch had his eyes rolling back in his head and a ragged groan tearing from his throat, and his dick twitched so hard he nearly came. “You’re such a slut, Nash,” she said, delight making the words a song, and stroked again.
“Okay,” he agreed, more than willing to accept the title, and since he couldn’t spread his legs any wider, lifted them up and hooked his hands behind his knees to pull them back.
“And shameless,” she tsked, her obvious glee taking the bite out of the rebuke. “A shameless, wanton slut.”
“Uh-huh. Lick my ass.”
“No.”
He didn’t need to see her face to know she was sneering—it was clear as klaxons in her voice. “Why not?”
“Because,” she replied, and pressed her thumb against his asshole.
God, it felt good. Really good. Push-him-to-the-edge-of-orgasm good. But it wasn’t her tongue, and it wasn’t enough. “This is payback, isn’t it?
“What was your first clue?”
“Fuck.”
“Eventually.” She wiggled her thumb, working the tip—thank God she kept her nails short—into the puckered opening. “When I’m satisfied that you’ve been appropriately punished.”
He licked his lips. They’d gone bone dry. “What am I being punished for, exactly?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
“You came, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she agreed, and the sadistic glee was back in her voice. “Doesn’t let you off the hook.”
He lifted his head, but all he could see was the cloud of her hair around his dick, and her body stretched out, face down on the bed. The T-shirt had ridden up to expose her bare ass, and she was kicking her feet lazily in the air. Like she hadn’t a care in the fucking world.
“That was necessary. You know, for your fantasy.”
Her head popped up at that, one narrowed eye peering at him from the cloud of hair. It was bright with arrogance and righteous indignation. “So it was, what, a purely an academic exercise?”
He started to lie, then remembered the honesty pledge. “No, I really wanted to fuck you.”
Indignation turned to satisfaction. “I know.”
“But I really was worried you wouldn’t be able let someone else take control.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” she drawled and wiggled her thumb a fraction deeper. Her thumb was wet with spit, but spit wasn’t lube, and that tiny sliver of thumb felt enormous.
“You’re a sadist,” he accused hoarsely.
“Nope, just vindictive,” she said cheerfully, feet kicking.
He let his head drop back onto the pillow with a groan. Hope kept his legs in the air. “Please?”
“Oh, begging.” The sadistic glee was back. “I like the begging. Please what?”
“Shit, I forgot.” He shook his head to clear it while she laughed so hard the bed shook. “Wait, I got it. Please lick my ass?”
“Very polite,” she praised. “No.”
“Don’t you have to work today?” he asked desperately and turned his head to check the bedside clock.
“Not until noon. Plenty of time. Ask me again.”
The pillow was blocking his view of the clock, and though the blinds kept the room dim, he could tell the sun was up. Which didn’t tell him much—in June, the sun was up by six o’clock. Which meant it could be hours before she’d have to stop torturing him to go to the salon.
Hours.
He sucked in a breath and prepared to beg. “Please, Bailey, lick my asshole?”
“Better,” she mused. “If I do, will you come?”
He blinked at the ceiling. “Well, yeah.”
“Can’t.”
“What?”
“Can’t come. I’ll lick your ass, but if you come, I’m going to be really, really mad.”
He swallowed. His mouth was dry as the Sahara. “What happens if you get really, really, mad?”
“I sit on your face and you lick my ass until I come.”
His grin was so big it actually hurt his face. “Your terms are acceptable.”
She snorted out a giggle and landed a playful slap on one upturned butt cheek. “Then hitch up, slut.”
With scrabbling hands, he got a firmer grip on the backs of his knees and boosted his hips up.
His knees were all but in his ears, his dick drooling onto his chest. Her hands cupped his cheeks, bracing to take some of his weight.
He felt the tickle of her hair against his thighs, the dance of her breath warm against his balls.
Then her tongue was there, slick and hot, right where he wanted it.
His ragged groan mingled with her happy sigh.
His hands tightened painfully on his legs as she licked and slurped and nibbled—he had no idea how she managed the nibbling, the angle should’ve made it impossible—and he began to shake, his whole body vibrating with the pleasure racing through him.
The tingle started at the base of his spine, just a whisper at first then building, his balls tightening with the gathering orgasm.
He pushed his ass at her face, wanting it, racing for it, then blinked when he found himself humping air.
“What?” he began, picking up his head to see where she’d gone—she wouldn’t leave him hanging on the hairy edge, she wasn’t that much of a bitch, surely—dropping his legs to the bed as he started to sit up.
But she hadn’t gone anywhere, she was still there between his legs, rising up first to her knees then climbing on top of him. Grabbing his dick in one hand and sinking her hot, wet pussy down on it in one smooth, slick motion.
He collapsed back on the bed, speechless and breathless. When he finally found his voice, it was thin with shock. “What happened to eating ass until we both come?”
“Changed my mind,” she breathed and began to rock.
He watched her move while sensations battered him.
Her hot cunt on his dick, the cool air on his wet balls, his wet asshole.
The warm, firm weight of her on top of him, her soft thighs spread over his hips.
She still wore the T-shirt, so he could only picture the curve of her waist, the thrust of her breasts.
They swayed under the thin cotton, heavy and round, and he wanted his hands on them.
But he wasn’t sure of his moves, and this was her show. So he kept his hands to himself.
“Wanted you inside me,” she continued, her face half obscured by her tangled mass of hair.
“You wanted my load inside you,” he said, forcing a playful tone. He wanted to grab her and hold her so close he wouldn’t be able to tell where he ended and she began. Wanted it so much he had to grit his teeth to keep from taking it.
Her movements stuttered to a stop, and dismay flickered in her eyes.
He opened his mouth—to say what, he had no idea, he just knew he needed to take that stricken look out of her eyes.
But then it was gone and she was moving again, swiveling her hips in a way that stole his breath and scattered his thoughts.
“That too.”
He wanted to push her hair out of her face so he could see her, wanted the T-shirt gone so he could touch her. He kept his hands fisted in the sheet at his sides and ached. “You feel so good, Bay. So fucking good.”
“Yeah? You like that pussy?”
That wasn’t what he’d meant, but… “Yeah. Hot, wet. So fucking tight.”
Eyes gleaming, she did something magical with her internal muscles that made her even tighter.
“You’re killing me,” he groaned.