Chapter 15 Reverie
REVERIE
I’ve no idea how the hell to respond to that, but he doesn’t give me the opportunity. His tongue is already licking along the seam of my pussy, drawing out the most intense sensation I’ve ever experienced. I inhale sharply while he moans in approval.
Oh my God.
“Oh, fuck, you taste even better,” he whimpers, though it doesn’t seem like he’s even talking to me anymore. “The eighth goddamn wonder of the world.”
He dives back in with more vigor, lapping up the arousal seeping from my core as if it’s the cure to keeping him alive.
Internally, I battle with myself. Do I keep watching him, or am I supposed to lie back and close my eyes? The latter sounds like the less invasive of the two, but the sight of his tongue disappearing inside me is absolutely riveting, and I struggle to tear my eyes away.
But it’s Dread between my legs, and that makes this experience extremely hard to reconcile in my brain. All he’s ever done is hurt me, and now, he’s bringing me the most intense pleasure of my life.
Yet, I find myself unable to look away, so I settle back onto my elbows, the inner corners of my eyebrows curling up as my lips part in both awe and bliss.
For a few moments, I fall into somewhat of a trance.
My surroundings fade away, and I’m only aware of the euphoria his probing mouth evokes, of how fucking erotic it is to watch while he does it.
Whimpers fall from my tightened throat, though part of me holds back, still conflicted as to why he’s doing this.
I lost my virginity when I was sixteen to a random guy at a party.
He insisted men only do it if they can’t get their woman wet, and while I knew that was bullshit, any men I slept with after had their own reason.
Matt said he found it gross. Another guy said it was emasculating.
Others just went straight to sex and never even broached foreplay.
But Dread’s expression twists with rapture, his eyes fluttering as if it’s him being pleasured. And while his open-mouthed kisses become sloppier, a pool forming on the bench beneath me, it has little to do with getting me wet and everything to do with him just wanting to.
The second I realize that, the proverbial chains loosen, and my body comes alive beneath him. My previous nerves and reservations go up in flames, and in place is someone who demands pleasure from him.
I shift my weight onto one elbow and dive my fingers into his hair with my other hand, holding him tight against me as he relentlessly lashes at my clit.
My legs drop open even further, and my head tips back, my eyes rolling and thighs shaking from the utter ecstasy coursing through me.
My throat loosens, whimpers giving way to moans as loud and unabashed as his slurping.
He growls his approval, trading between tongue fucking my inner walls and sucking my clit, punctuated by eager, ravenous grunts from his throat that only heighten my arousal.
I’ve never been more turned on in my life, never been more consumed with desire and euphoria. It’s incredibly dangerous to feel this way. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to the version of Dread who causes me so much pain.
Just when I think it can’t get better, I feel two blunt fingers probing my entrance, granting me only a second of warning before they drive inside me and curl, hitting a spot that pulls a scream from my throat.
“Fuck!” I cry, my vision doubling and nearly going black. “Oh, fuck, oh my God, oh my God, Dread.”
My head feels too heavy, and it takes great effort to drop my chin back down to meet his half-lidded, lust-drunk stare. Now, there’s no shying away from his intensity, but being completely consumed by it.
His tongue focuses on my clit while he pumps his fingers, hitting my g-spot with perfect precision.
I lose all cognitive function, and all I can do is submit to the euphoria.
Every muscle in my body tightens like a bowstring, my upper half curling toward him as the pleasure climbs until it feels like I’m quite literally going to explode.
“I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come,” I chant weakly, my voice faint.
Right when my head goes to loll back again, his other hand snaps forward, catching me by the throat and forcing me to keep my eyes on him.
He squeezes firm enough to sever my air supply, creating a pressure in my head that has my vision swimming.
Vaguely, I’m aware of how tight I’m pulling his hair, but I’ve lost all control.
Just when it feels like too much and not enough all at once, the string snaps, and I explode.
Dread’s hand loosens around my throat, releasing the blood from my head in a dizzying rush.
The scream that rips from my throat is inhuman.
I’m suspended in time for several heart-stopping moments, my body locked tight and rendered silent as my pussy convulses against his persistent tongue and contracts around his pumping fingers.
With my jaw unhinged and brow furrowed, I watch him stare at me intently.
A darker reverence reflects in his eyes this time, almost like obsession, but I’m too lost to even process it.
Then, as if God hit play, I reanimate with another outcry.
He doesn’t prevent me from falling back again, and my spine hits the bench before arching off it until it forms a C, only my head and ass still grounded.
Now, both hands fist his hair, holding him to me with a force even he can’t break free from.
I can no longer hear the noises pouring past my lips, but I know they’re unlike anything I’ve produced before.
I’m aware of little else aside from my violent seizing and the cataclysmic ecstasy overpowering my system. I’m a prisoner to it, my consciousness locked inside my own body, incapable of doing anything but standing by as it wreaks havoc.
The moment it relents, a sob bursts from my throat, having no other outlet for the absolute devastation I just experienced.
I slap a hand over my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to regain control, but it’s a losing battle.
Another sob slips free, and tears instantly bubble in my eyes.
I quickly cover my face with both hands just as it twists into what is likely an ugly cry.
The pleasure is slow to come down completely, soft waves still rolling through my body.
Hands grab my wrists and tug, but I shake my head and hold them tight.
Tonight’s events have left me extremely raw, and the last thing I want is the motherfucker to see me cry again, but he’s far too strong.
Instead of releasing them once he successfully unglues them from my face, he keeps pulling until I’m sitting upright.
“Crying already, darling? I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
I just barely bite back the question in time.
Do you have to?
But that would make me look even weaker than I already do.
I'm disoriented and incredibly nervous as his hand dives into my hair and tugs me toward him. I move without thinking, unclear what’s happening until his cock is right at my mouth. He tugs my hair back, forcing me to look up at him.
My cheeks burn, and I work to swallow as I take in how drenched the entire lower half of his face is.
Oh, God, it’s even on his chest, one bead slowly trailing down toward his abdomen.
That’s… that’s so embarrassing. But he doesn’t give me much time to dwell, bringing my focus to his cock poised at my mouth.
It’s honestly so fucking unfair that he, of all people, has a big dick—arguably a beautiful one, too. It would’ve made this whole experience so much easier to swallow if he were small. Literally and figuratively.
“Get me wet, baby,” he rasps. His free hand slides along the side of my jaw, pausing to roughly swipe his thumb over my bottom lip, his stare enraptured as he does. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
Truthfully, that’s all he needed to say to convince me.
Maintaining eye contact, I lean forward and envelop his swollen tip with my mouth. His upper lip curls into a snarl as a hiss leaks past his teeth.
I’m not incredibly experienced with blow jobs, but the desire to bring Dread to his knees is enough to infuse me with the confidence of a thousand sex workers.
I swirl my tongue around him, fluttering my eyes and groaning as I do, as if I’m licking frosting off a goddamn cupcake.
His mouth parts, and I slowly work his length into my mouth, soaking him thoroughly as I do.
My brows pinch as I take him deeper, becoming more and more difficult with every inch.
One side of his mouth curls into an amused grin, mirth seeping into his heated stare. “The deeper you take me, the more concerned you look.” He chuckles. “And I don’t think I’ve seen anything sexier.”
If my genuine concern for the damage this may do to my throat is sexy, I’ll take it, but it also makes me intent on wiping that smirk off his face.
I take my time priming my throat and coercing it into full relaxation. All the while, I hollow my cheeks and suck, my eager whimpers vibrating around his length as I get closer to taking all of him. He whispers encouragement between breathy moans and deep growls.
When I finally feel ready, I inhale deeply through my nose, and, by sheer stubbornness and the will to make him choke, I push forward and swallow him down until less than an inch remains.
“Fuck!” he shouts, his fist tightening in my hair to the point of pain while he jerks against me.
I hold my breath while internally talking myself through the discomfort, convincing myself not to panic and retreat. I wiggle my head side to side, forcing the rest of him down my throat until my nose presses against his pelvis.
He moans loudly, and then his voice cracks, only for his knees to give out for a half second. Even when he catches himself, they bend with the threat.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Reverie,” he chants, sounding like a broken, breathless record.