Chapter 8 Yes, Jakob #2
"Please, Jakob," I breathe, stomach fluttering and pussy clenching around nothing as desire howls inside me like a hurricane. "I need your cock."
Who am I, right now? Begging for a penis? Yet I can't stop myself. I really do want it. I want him to take my mouth and use it. Not that I'd ever say as much in so many words, even under threat of death.
"Open."
I part my lips and gaze up at him. "Are you going to come in my mouth, now, Jakob?"
He feeds his cock into my mouth, hot, firm flesh sliding over my tongue, nudging the back of my throat. He knots my hair in one fist, keeping a firm grip on me as he pumps gently, nuzzling the back of my throat with his soft, springy tip. "Is that what you want, Brys?"
"Yes."
"Say it. Tell me what you want."
"I want you to come down my throat."
"Beg for it."
"Please, Jakob." I stare up at him, caress his thighs with my palms, his hips, his ass. Gather his cock in my hands and stroke his length with both fists. "Please, please come for me. Give it to me. All of it. Right now. Fill my mouth. Make me choke on your cum."
Jesus, I'm a depraved woman. Make me choke on your cum?
Really? Really, right now? What the actual hell is wrong with me?
Why is that what I want more than anything? With this man, especially, the one putting my life at risk—this man who blazed into my life, literally crashed into me and turned everything upside down and inside out while offering very little by way of explanation.
And now I'm on my knees in front of him, playing with his cock and begging for him to come down my throat.
But I'm nothing if not honest with myself—when I want to be—and the honest truth is that as fucked up as this is, I'm thrilled.
I'm seconds from orgasming without him so much as touching my tits.
I'm so turned on by this reversal of power dynamic that I could come from a stiff breeze blowing across my clitoris.
Jakob's grin is feral. "I don't believe you.” He frames the back of my head in his hands. "Show me that you mean it, Brys. Show me how badly you want my cock. Show me how badly you want my cum."
I lock eyes with him, caressing his thick, hot length with both hands.
I watch his jaw tick and pulse, feel his cock throb in my hands, watch his abs tighten until he's harder than a cinderblock wall.
So close. I speed my strokes. Curl my fingers around his cock-head to form a cup, drip saliva, and smear it down his shaft so my strokes slide slick and quick.
He sucks in a sharp inhalation through his nose, lets it out slowly, brow furrowing, jaw grinding so hard I swear I hear his molars creak under the titanic pressure.
Faster. Faster. On one hand, pumping furiously at his root, the other fluttering and twisting around the glans.
His eyes slide slowly closed, and he hunches forward, and for the first time, he bucks helplessly into my fists. "Fuck," he snarls. "Give me your fucking mouth, Brys. Now."
"Yes, Jakob," I whisper.
I clasp his ass in one hand and cup his balls in the other, and take his cock into my mouth. Swirl my tongue around his glans, over his tip, taste his precum, feel him throb against my tongue. And then I open my throat and take him.
All of him.
In a slow, intentional slide, my eyes never leave his.
God, it's been a long time since I've given a man my throat like this; I'd nearly forgotten how my eyes water, how I have to close my throat around him and gulp air through my nose.
I fucking love it—this helplessness. It's so perversely thrilling to upend my Type-A Boss Bitch Ice Queen persona and let myself be used like this.
Jakob watches as I slide my lips down his length, swallowing frantically around him. His lip curls and his eyes flutter shut for a moment or two as my nose nudges his belly. He hunches over me, and his hands tighten around my head.
Yes. Yes. Please, yes—take me. Make it rough.
I catch his hooded stare and wait, wondering if he really can read me as clearly as I suspect. I’m breathing carefully, one hand on his ass and the other cradling his plump, heavy balls. Waiting for him.
"You want to be used, don't you, Brys?"
I nod and whimper an affirmative sound.
“You want me to fuck your throat, don't you?"
I nod and whimper again. Fuck yes, I do—it’s unspoken but obvious.
He's unleashed a hitherto hidden, buried, secret version of Brys, and she is feral with need, seething with primal, filthy, uninhibited feminine sexuality.
He draws back until I’m kissing and licking his tip, mouthing it the way I would the first bite of an ice cream cone. He cups my cheek, strangely gentle and affectionate. "Get ready, Brys. I can't hold back any longer."
"Fuck my throat. Please. Please, Jakob. I need your cum. Please. Please." I cup his ass in both hands and stare up at him.
Open my mouth wide, tongue out, ready and waiting.
"Such a greedy little slut, aren't you, Brys?"
"Yes, Jakob."
"What are you?"
"A greedy little slut."
"What does my hungry little slut want?"
"Your cock."
"Say please for me. Once more."
"Please?"
He feeds me his cock again, letting go once he's partway down my throat.
But this time, he gives me a thrust. I gag on him, catch my breath, gulp, and gasp.
Once I've caught my breath, he does it again, deeper, harder.
I whimper as he fills my throat, whimper when his balls tap my chin.
I cup his ass in both hands and pull him toward me on his next thrust. He growls like a wolf, savage and wild.
I take this as a compliment, as encouragement.
Gaze up at him as he fucks another slow thrust down my throat.
I pull at him again, and he thrusts. Another pull, faster. Faster.
His breathing is ragged now, his lip curled in a snarling rictus as he fights back his release. God, the man just doesn't know how to let go, does he?
I'll have to show him how. I'll have to make him.
I don't wait for his next thrust—I take it from him. Gag as I take him, inch by inch, tongue working against his length, fingers clawed into the tensed muscle of his ass. Whimper in delight as I take him and take him, backing away and slamming all the way down, hard and rough.
“That's how you want it?"
"Mmm-hmm!"
"Very well, then. So you shall have it."
He takes over, then, and it's the beginning of my deepest, most secret fantasies coming true.
He clutches my head in his hands and fucks my mouth, hard and fast and brutally unrelentingly, and all I can do is gag and gasp and take his cock and try to breathe, relishing each brutal thrust down my throat.
"So fucking gorgeous, Brys," he whispers, "taking my cock like such a good girl."
A long, rapturous moan escapes me at his praise, and his eyes light up at the sound. "Ah, fuck, Brys. You really love this, don't you? You love it when I praise you, don't you?"
"Yes!" I gasp, as if the tip of his cock is a microphone. "More. More."
"I don't want to come," he murmurs, giving me shallow, gentle thrusts for a moment or two. "I want to fuck your mouth forever. You have such a pretty mouth, Brys." He caresses my chin with a thumb pad. "Feels so good. So hot, so wet, so tight." He thrusts deep, then. "Suck."
I suck and drive deeper, tongue extended out of my mouth so I can lick him while I work him with my throat; this makes him snarl and thrust helplessly.
Fuck yes—I love those helpless little thrusts.
I back away and suction my lips around his glans and swirl my tongue around his tip, now leaking precum in a steady seep, and I lick it all away greedily.
"Fuck." His voice is ragged and breathless.
I cup his balls and massage them with both hands, sucking and suckling and bobbing shallowly around his glans, teasing and scratching his root where balls and shaft meet, raking my fingernails along his taint.
And then I grab them in a tight grip and squeeze until he grunts in surprised almost-pain as I use my grip to pull him toward me, deep-throating him all at once, without warning.
I feel his balls pulse an instant before he unleashes a flood of cum down my throat.
He shouts, raw-voiced, snarling and lupine, and adjusts his grip on my head and thrusts hard.
I gag, gulp, swallowing desperately, but he's down my throat and coming, releasing rocket after rocket of hot, salty, thick cum.
I pull back so he falls out of my mouth, gasping and panting, cum dribbling down my chin and throat, eyes watering.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he growls.
I can't stop. I need more. I stroke his slippery, sticky, dripping cock, wrap my mouth around his head, and lick and suck, cheeks hollowing, and he spurts onto my tongue.
I pull away so he flops free, bouncing and drooping heavily, swallow the mouthful of his cum, and lick my lips and gaze up at him; I am all too aware that my expression must surely border on adoring.
For a moment, then, Jakob stares down at me, brow furrowed, expression unreadably intense. "Good girl, Brys." He cups my jaw, applies pressure, indicating that I should stand up; I do, and he wipes my lips and chin with his thumb, showing me the glistening liquid.
I open my mouth dutifully, and he presses his thumb onto my tongue. I taste him, and his essence, and nothing has ever tasted sweeter.
"Such a good girl," he says again, whispering, almost dazed. "Such a lovely little slut. You sucked me dry, Brys. Like the obedient whore you are."
My heart flutters and crashes in my chest. "Yes," I whisper. "I'm a good little whore."
He grins, and it's utterly devastating. "You know what happens to good little whores who suck my cock like that?
"No," I admit. "Tell me, Jakob. Please."
"Good cock-sucking little whores receive their reward." He sidles closer to me, until there's no space left between us, my tits crushed against the anvil of his chest, his drooping cock nudging my thigh. "Do you want to be rewarded?"
"Yes, Jakob."
"I thought you might." He brushes his thumb over my lip. "Take off your panties."
I shimmy out of them and stand naked, pussy weeping desire, my entire being quivering, shaking in anticipation. "Are you going to fuck me, Jakob?"
He leans into me, nuzzles my ear with his lips. "Is that what you want?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Jakob. I want you to fuck me."
"How?" he breathes. "Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you."
I swallow hard and say the first thing that comes to mind—the raw, unadulterated truth. "I want to be bent over my desk in my office and fucked from behind," I answer. "I want it bare. I want to feel your cum dripping down my thighs while I’m inspecting quarterly reports."
"I'll keep that in mind," he rumbles. "But we do not have a desk available at the moment, and it isn't safe to go back to your office." He presses his palm to my belly, fingers pointing to the floor. "Try again. How do you want me to fuck you, Brys?"
"On all fours," I answer immediately. "I want you to spank me."
The lascivious gleam of desire bathing his expression is blindingly intense. "Mmmmm. Yes." Heat billows off of him in palpable waves. Primal, sexual fury drips from his every pore. "But not yet. I don't think you've earned that just yet, Brys. But you do deserve…something."
I stand, shaking, silent, waiting, arousal rampaging through my veins. "Please, Jakob. I need—I need…"
His mouth slants over mine, silencing me. "I know what you need." He puts his lips to my ear. "Go to the window and stand facing it."
Trembling with nerves and anticipation—and mostly the latter—I do as he says.
He rips the curtains open, letting in blinding morning sunlight. Below, the parking lot is dotted with parked cars. A couple checking out early loads their luggage into their sedan. A man stands under the portico near the entrance, smoking a cigarette.
His glance shoots up this way, locks on me. Surprise washes over his features, then curiosity.
My heart slams madly behind my ribs—an exhibitionist I am not. Or, haven't been…until now, apparently.
Because I don't shy away. I don't close the blinds. I don't protest. I stare back at the man without flinching. We're close enough that I can read his expressions. He puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales, holds the smoke, spews it out his nostrils, never looking away from me.
I feel Jakob behind me. I stop breathing.
His hands carve over my belly. He cups my sex with one hand; the watching smoker freezes, hand to mouth, cigarette framed between index and middle finger.
"Let's give the man a show he won't soon forget, shall we?" he whispers into my ear, sliding a long, thick middle finger inside me.
"Yes, Jakob."