Chapter 10
Ten
Lacey
You'd think I'd be nervous or something, but I'm not.
I'm just eager.
If he'd asked me to go down on him before he did me, I would have.
Immediately. But he devoured me like I was his next and last meal, gave me no fewer than four orgasms in twenty minutes—and that's three more orgasms than I've had in the last six months combined, total, including the sad, pathetic, and entirely lackluster one I gave myself back in June.
I tried masturbating after I found out about Eddie and the 19-year-old, but I was too angry, too hurt, too shocked, to everything to be able to relax enough for that.
So yeah, I've had one orgasm since June, and it's December.
And I gave that one to myself. We'd gone to the pool at the club. It was a Sunday. I wore my best bikini for him, the white one that always made him handsy. And it worked. As soon as we got home from the club, he took me in the closet. He got his, of course. But did I? Nope. He came after three pumps, literally, and then changed into jeans and a polo and went to the office, leaving me frustrated and alone. So I got out the Hitachi wand, pictured Cole—although I couldn’t see his face as I had no idea what he looked like as an adult, and I wasn't going to fantasize about an eighteen-year-old, even if he wasn’t eighteen anymore.
I pictured him just like this, actually.
On his back, his big hands knotted in my hair, and he was showing me how he wanted me to suck him off.
In the fantasy, I did exactly what he wanted, and he praised me, and he showered me with appreciation, and after he came, he wanted to kiss me and hold me and tell me how much he loved me.
I know which part of that fantasy isn't about to come true, and that's okay. The rest is, and that's enough for now.
I'm stroking his length with one hand, watching him, my cheek on his belly at his navel.
The tip of his cock is inches away from my mouth, beaded with clear pre-cum.
He's dragging in slow, ragged, deep breaths as I toy with his length, now jerking, twisting strokes around the plump head, smearing that pre-cum all over him, and now I’m pumping loose-fisted around the thick root of him, and he's tipping his hips up in time with my strokes, pumping into my fist.
"Fuck, Lacey," he snarls. "Please."
"Please what?" I murmur.
"Your fucking mouth," he grits out. "I need your mouth. I need to fuck that pretty mouth. Please."
My pussy clenches wet and hot at his words. "Oh, that's a new one. I didn't quite catch it all, though. Say it again for me."
He clutches my head and firmly guides my mouth to his tip; I let him, providing just enough resistance to make it fun. His eyes search me, and I can see that he's uncertain—he needs to know I'm playing along willingly, eagerly. I smirk at him, wink as I flick my tongue out and taste his tip.
"I need to fuck your mouth, Lacey." He brushes a thumb over my lips again, and god I like that. I love this Cole—domineering yet kind, rough yet gentle, commanding yet attentive.
I want to know the last time he came. Who it was.
I know it's perverse, but I need to know.
Was it someone in town? Someone I know? Was it serious?
I know from the way he ate me out that he's had his share of fun over the years while I was servicing my asshole ex-husband.
Although, to be fair, in the early years, we did have a halfway decent sex life.
He just got complacent and stopped seeing me as a woman, as his wife, and started seeing me as a trophy, a belonging.
But early on, it was…not good, but okay enough to get me through the day, metaphorically speaking.
I ask no questions, though—not now. This isn't the time.
Instead, I wrap my lips around his tip and swirl my tongue against his flesh, tasting the tang and the musk of his pre-cum. He tastes good. Slightly sweet yet salty and not overpowering.
"Ah god, fuck," he murmurs, his voice tight and low. "Lace. Sweet Thing. Take it."
"Mmmm?" I hum. "More?"
He growls and pushes my head down. "More, sweetheart. Take more.”
I clutch him by the root and pump until his ass leaves the bed and he's grunting, and then I take pity on him. And on myself—I want this as much as he does. I know, it's fucked up. But I do.
This is easier. Less personal. Less intimate.
I'm scared to make love with him. I'm scared that it’ll just be sex, just fucking. That it won’t mean to him what it does to me. I know he wants me. I know he cares.
But I never stopped loving him. I can admit it, now. To myself, at least.
I still love him.
I just don't know if he feels the same way. How can he, after what I did? How could he, when he finds out the rest of the truth?
I shove that aside and commit to enjoying what I can get with him while I have him. God knows I'll probably lose him again soon enough.
I stroke his length while holding his eyes. "Beg, Cole."
He grins. "Easily,” he cups my jaw. "Please, Lacey? Have mercy on me. Suck my cock, sweetheart. Take it down your throat. Make me come. Please. I'm begging you. You don't even have to swallow."
I sniff a laugh at that. “Oh? Where would you rather come, then, if not down my throat?"
He tweaks a nipple. "All over these."
Oddly, that does have a certain appeal. I've never done that before.
Never allowed it. His thing wasn't dominance, just using me. Getting off as quickly as possible and getting on with whatever he wanted to do. It didn’t really matter.
I don't think he even cared which hole he used as long as it was warm and wet and he got to come.
You'd think, with the amount of money he spent on these monsters attached to my sternum, that he'd want to mark them that way or whatever the mentality would be.
For Cole, it's not that.
His offer is one of giving me autonomy. He's telling me what he wants, but trying, a bit clumsily, I admit, to communicate that I'm still in control.
It's hot.
Being thought of and considered is sexy.
I hold his gaze as I back away, licking my lip, caressing his hot, thick cock as I prepare myself.
He’s huge.
I keep his eyes on mine as I part my lips and start at the top, at first just flicking my tongue-tip over his opening, tasting his pre-cum, feeling him twitch.
And then I wrap my lips around his glans and press the flat of my tongue against him.
He grips my hair and holds on, not pushing, just holding. Giving me control.
I run my palms up his body, and fuck, he's hot. My pussy clenches with desire as I rake my hands over his hard abs, his heavy chest, his mountainous shoulders. God, I want him. I want him inside me. I want to ride him. I want to be beneath him as he comes inside me.
Fuck, I need him.
He's mine. He's always been mine.
I want to know who he fucked so I can be jealous.
Because I haven't cared about that. I don't care that someone else had Eddie.
I care that he lied. That he cheated. If he'd been honest, we probably could have had an arrangement. I would never have left him on my own, I don't think. I thought this life, this man, was out of reach. Gone. But he lied, he cheated, and now I’m here, and now this beautiful man is mine again, for however brief a moment, and I’m going to make the most of it.
I think of someone else with Cole, touching him, doing what I’m doing, and my blood burns.
He's mine.
He just doesn't know it, yet.
I take more of him, then. His tip touches the back of my throat, and he groans as I suck on him, tongue his shaft.
"Lace…fuck."
"Mmm-hmmm?" I hum, the question in the tone.
“More. Please. Feels too fucking good."
I get on my hands and knees and straddle his legs, dragging my hair up his thigh. He takes my hair in his fists, and this time he does use it to put me where he wants me—pushing my mouth further down his length.
"Fuck, Lacey. Fuck." I feel him pulse against my lips as I slide my mouth down his shaft, taking him inch by inch. “Oh…god." He wraps my hair around one fist, pressing his other palm flat against my nape and the back of my head, urging me lower.
I give him what he demands, sliding my mouth lower, swallowing around him.
"Oh fuck, oh god, Lacey. So fucking sexy, taking my cock down your throat."
I whimper at his praise. Look up at him, let him see the honest reaction in my eyes—arousal, emotional, and intense.
“You like that, huh?" He thrusts his hips, pushing into my throat so I have to swallow frantically. "Good girl, Lacey. Love how you take my cock. So fucking good. Fucking goddess, Lacey. You're goddamned perfect."
I gasp at the praise, his cock popping free. "Cole?”
"What, Lace?"
"Praise me."
“You need to hear it, don’t you?” He clutches the mass of my hair in both hands and crushes me down his length, so I have to open my throat and frantically swallow around his thick shaft. "You're a good girl, Lacey. Look at you, that sweet, innocent mouth taking my cock like such a good girl."
I whimper breathlessly, not faking my reaction in the slightest. His praise sends adrenaline through me, makes my pulse hammer, makes my pussy drip.
It makes me work his shaft faster, tonguing him, swallowing around him, pulsing my lips down until he's sliding down my throat and my nose brushes his belly.
"So fucking sexy, Lace," he breathes again. "Fuck. I can't stop myself. I can't help it."
I hold his eyes with mine and shake my head. "Mmm-mmm!"
“You don't want me to hold back, do you?"
"Mmm-mmm!"
I work his cock faster and faster, then, my lips stuttering down his hot, wet length and back up, and I never look away from him, nor does he look away from me.
“Lacey, Jesus." His eyes flutter, roll into the back of his head as I palm his balls. "Fuck yes. I love that."
So I do that more—massage and palm and play with his balls until he's panting raggedly.
"Oh god, oh god, oh dear fucking god—Lacey. Your goddamned mouth feels so good. I'm—oh fuck. I'm gonna come in a second, baby."