33. Pentorgasm
thirty-three
Pentorgasm
Liam
Archer’s dick is life. It’s like some magical instrument. I thought I would love sucking his cock, and it turns out I do love sucking his cock, but there aren’t words to describe this.
Magic? It must be magic. Do I care? No, I really don’t think so. My life has taken a strange turn lately, and if this is the cherry on top of that bizarre ghost cake, I’m going to eat it up.
I’m a wreck for him, inside and out. I don’t even know who I am anymore. There’s me, and there’s him, and there’s this, whatever this is, that makes me shudder every time my tongue slides down his dick—that makes me want to explode with every taste of precum.
Archer’s saying my name, and it sounds perfect on his lips. Archer’s pulling my hair, and he makes me feel like I’m a king. Like I’m the best cocksucker in the world, pride and pleasure intermingled on my tongue and my lips, and when I make him come, god, I’m going to feel so pleased with myself.
Suddenly, Archer’s fingers tighten in my hair, and just for a second, I think this is it, he’s about to let go. Then I almost fall flat on my face when he slides out of my mouth, drops down off the desk, landing on his knees in front of me to catch me just in time.
I’m not complaining. God, he’s so beautiful. I can do this down on the floor just as easily.
But he takes my lips before I can taste him again, clicks the buckles open on my overalls.
“Archer,” I vaguely protest, stroking his cock, getting a warm wave of pleasure all through my body as I do. “You said you’d come in my mouth.”
“I said nothing,” he replies, and fair, he never actually agreed to come in my mouth, but I thought we were in a good place with this relationship.
“Take everything off,” he instructs me, and fuck I love the stern voice he’s using. “Now.”
“Yes, Mr Gravely.” Maybe the way I say it is coy, but he looks at me like I’m a god for it. Then he wrenches my overalls down and rips my shirt over my head.
My hands are just as busy, his robe slinking to the floor, his soft shirt going flying across the room, giving me few and too-fleeting seconds to take in how gorgeous his body is before my mouth is on his erect nipple, hands searching over the hard planes of him.
I bite down, and I feel it. He lets out a pleasured cry, and I try to repress my own, then he rips his hand into my hair and pulls me up.
“It’s impossible to get good help these days,” he growls, his voice absolutely dripping with sex.
He kisses me, hard and passionate, then flings me down on my back, onto the soft rug, splayed out on the pentagram.
Being fucked on a necromancer’s pentagram was not on my bingo card for literally ever, but this feels like winning every lottery in the world all at once.
Is that weird? Is this a new kink? Satanic sex?
It is now.
I let my arms reach over my head, maybe slightly stretching out for him to look at me, maybe slightly digging my fingers into the rug and holding on, because I just have a feeling I’m going to need to. Fuck, I hope he likes what he sees.
“I’m going to have to discipline you for that,” he says, moving between my legs, looming over me, pushing my knees apart.
Fuck, he’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
He’s all muscles and abs and pecs and gah!
Just the exact image I’ve been dreaming about.
My dick throbs forward at the very thought of him disciplining me.
Does it ruin the game if I beg him for it? Tell him I’ll be the best worker he’s ever had if only he’ll let me take dicktation for him?
I bite my lip to keep quiet, just in case, but the little nip he places on the side of my knee slides a sharp breath over my teeth.
He works his way along my thigh, kissing, nipping, and it’s so slow, so delicious, so close to where I want him. I reach down, sink a hand into his hair to maybe, just a little, encourage him, but he bats my hand away. “Behave.”
The whine that escapes me would be embarrassing in any other situation, but judging by the snicker that tickles over my wet skin, I think it’s exactly what he’s after.
On he goes, kissing, biting, his strong hand holding my leg where he wants it while I squirm against the soft rug, luxuriant on my naked back.
“You keep your hands up there,” he tells me sternly, “and maybe when I’m done enjoying myself, I’ll let you come.”
Let me? I’m not sure he realises how close I am. How close I got myself sucking his dick. If he really grasps what’s going on here—what he’s capable of doing to me.
Pleasuring him is… pleasuring me. Though I can’t pretend I’m not grateful for the break, because I wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer, and I want him to be impressed with me. I want to make him happy. I want to give him the best orgasm he’s ever had.
His hands palm my ass, lifting me, spreading me wide, and I’m both excited and a little scared at the thought of him sinking his cock straight in. I’m not sure I’d even stop him, because I’m so desperate to be fucked by this man that it isn’t funny. But I’ll almost definitely regret it afterwards.
He drops a kiss on my right cheek, a bite, and fuck I want to take hold of myself, ease a little of the desperation that’s building up. But I know better.
“Look how gorgeous you are,” he purrs.
So maybe I flex my torso a bit, trying to be the sex object he’s thrown down on his office floor to enjoy. I raise my eyes to his, attempting a sultry look. But Archer’s eyes are firmly focused… on my ass.
And maybe I would never have thought of my ass that way, but he’s obviously enjoying it so I won’t complain.
Especially when he growls, “I can’t wait to see you full of my cum.”
The idea sends me wild. Me, stuffed full of Archer’s cum, and him, smashing into me, making me drip all over his nice floor.
“Fuck me, Archer,” I beg. “Right here. Please. Please, will you?”
He actually laughs. And I just about die. Particularly when he says, “Not today, honey.”
“Not today?” I practically whine. “Why not today? I’m here and-and-and-and… Why not today?”
His fingers tighten, digging into the flesh of my ass. “Because an ass like yours needs to be savoured.”
What does he… Could he… Is he going to…
My entire existence melts into the first kiss of his warm mouth on my ass. His tongue so wet and hot and fuck he feels good.
I know this happens. I know people do it. To other people. No one has ever done this to me, but there’s a first time for everything, clearly.
And just like that, I’m in heaven.
Fuck, how can that feel so good?
He’s over here telling me he’s long-term single, but… he must be some kind of experienced. That, or he just really likes eating ass. My ass. The incredibly sexy sounds that escape him are almost-undeniable evidence of that. But still…
My instinct is to reach down, to say, ‘You don’t have to. Please, let me.’ And I do slip a hand down to his shoulder, even if I can’t speak over the finger I’ve wedged in my mouth.
But Archer’s hand settles on my stomach, applies a little weight there, like he thinks I might try to get away. Or like he knows…
Like he knows I’d feel some kind of guilty about letting him do this. Because I never stop. I never let anyone else take care of me. And even now, here, when I know he wants this, I can’t help but think I need to be up, active. Be the one doing everything.
His fingers dig deeper in, he wrenches me wider, and his tongue…
. God, the way he circles me, his pressure firm in just the right places.
He’s sending a cascade of pleasure through every inch of me.
I don’t think my cock has ever been this hard.
And he’s so close to it. The slightest brush might set me off.
Does he know that? Is that why he slips his other hand down beneath my ass, lifting me like I’m this morning’s sixth cup of Earl Grey tea?
My hand slides from his shoulder, falls right near my dick and… dare I?
The movement’s slow, like I know I’m going to get caught for this. Disciplined… The idea drives me to madness, and I take a firm grip, relief and too much pleasure all at once ripping a hot gasp out of me.
Archer immediately lets go. He takes my wrist, the right kind of rough, and thrusts it over my head. The other one’s snatched up, they’re drawn together, and I’m caught, wrist locked, the enormous weight of this tall, beautiful man stretched out over me, his face an inch from mine.
“That was very bad, Liam,” he says. He says it so darkly my heart flutters, and I wonder what’s coming for me.
“I couldn’t help it,” I plead. “You’re too much. You’re driving me crazy.”
“I’m just getting started with you,” he whispers. He drops one soft kiss on my lips, then pulls back just far enough for me to watch him sink two fingers deep into his mouth.
Fuck. Fuck. What’s he going to do with those fingers? Fuck!
His one hand stays locked over my wrists, his face remains so close to mine, but his other hand sinks down, and with zero prelude, he pushes one finger inside.
His eyes never leave my face. I feel his burning gaze devouring me, even as my eyes roll back in my skull.
I arch uncontrollably, his palm cups my tight balls, warm and gorgeous, and just for a second, my dick thrusts up against his.
Fuck, I can feel how wet he is, dripping for me. He’s so turned on right now, and that turns me on even more. Who knew that was possible?
Everything about this is too good to be real. Archer is… gorgeous. Archer is so into me. Me!
He pushes a second finger in, and my shouts are enough to wake the dead. It’s incoherent. Some combination of his name, me begging for more, for less, I don’t even know. Just begging Archer to be… Archer. To be here and to be mine and to be doing exactly what he’s doing.
I love the strength of him holding me. I love the control he has. I love how he’s watching me, drinking in every gasp and tremble.
“Fuck, Liam,” he rasps out. “Look at you. You’re all my wildest daydreams come to life.”
Oh, what is this man? The things he’s doing to me, and those words just pushed me over the edge.
I want him. I need him to hold me through this.
“Kiss me,” I finally manage. “Please kiss me.”
He releases me in a heartbeat. His arm slides beneath my neck, and both of mine wrap around him. I bring his body against mine, curling into him, chest to chest, kissing him, kissing him, harder and harder the wilder he drives me.
He’s fucking me harder now, fingers curling over my sweet spot with every thrust, and I am absolute putty in his arms. His kisses are all that’s grounding me.
“Archer,” I cry out. My fingers dig into his skin, clawing at him, hoping I’ll leave marks he’ll see later and think of this. “Archer, fuck me. Please.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Please.”
“Liam…”
“Please… Mr Gravely…”
“Oh, fuck…” he sighs out.
He slips from my arms. He shifts down. And is he going to fuck me? Nothing but spit and a prayer? Do I even care?
Not in this state.
He moves down my body, and he’s still fucking me with his hand, and I’m grasping at the carpet, so ready for him, so needy for him.
Then his mouth slips over my cock and I’m gone.
The unexpected heat of him shoots through me, the tightness of his mouth, the firm suck.
I cry his name once as a warning, but it’s too late.
Cum shoots out of me, the orgasm hitting me like a brick wall of ecstasy, all-encompassing, smothering me, drowning me, leaving me a shuddering mess as he makes me ride it out, fucking me to the end with his firm fingers, drinking me down, swallowing the lot.
And when I finally come back down to the floor of his office, when I finally focus hazy eyes on him, he’s got the most glorious, most smug smile on his face.
That’s discipline? Making me come in his mouth without even fucking me at all while I’m here on the floor begging for it?
I’ll show him.