Chapter 22 Daphne
Chapter twenty-two
Daphne
I don’t expect Andri to lean down and kiss me, but fuck is it good when he does.
He takes my lip and just barely nicks the skin with his fang.
I’ve never been kissed like he kisses me—it’s like he’s drowning and somehow I’m the air.
I can feel how much he wants me as he probes my mouth with his tongue.
His cock throbs in my hand though, and I’m the first one to pull away.
“Tell me.” I insist. I want to know what he likes. I want him to take the reins and make me feel free enough to be exactly what he needs. To give myself the ability to disobey if I want to.
He’s lost in the sauce though, and he takes his free hand, cupping my cheek and leans in again, to kiss me once more.
“Before I get cold,” I interject just as his lips are a hair’s breadth from mine.
That does something to him. My doting yeti protector stiffens and stands back up. His cock bobs, looking painfully swollen. A bead of shiny liquid is quickly forming at his tip.
“Spit on it,” he whispers with hooded lids.
I can honestly say, despite having given head before, I’ve never just outright spit on someone’s penis. My mouth of course goes suddenly dry, and I improvise instead of keeping Andri waiting. I lean in and lick the dripping precum off the head.
I blink once, twice, and a third time before I realize what flavor explosion is going on in my mouth.
“Did you know your cum tastes like mint?” I smack my tongue against the roof of my mouth, like I’m checking to make sure I didn’t just imagine the bright, yet sweet taste lingering on my lips.
“I’ve not made a habit of tasting it. I said spit,” he says sternly.
This time, it’s not an issue. The mint has flooded my mouth, my tastebuds salivating at the flavor of him. I work the wetness down his length with my hand, and wait for instruction.
“Keeping pumping,” he growls, tightening his grip on my hair. I do exactly what he asks, sliding my hand up and down his massive cock. The veins pop up against his sparkling smooth shaft, giving the skin there a texture much more varied than a human cock.
It’s almost like he’s ridged for my pleasure.
“Fuck, your hand feels so good,” he moans as he thrusts into my grip, eyes closed. I’m excited at how much he loves my hand alone, and I want to give him more.
I lean in, and kiss the skin against his hips, letting myself dip lower down until my mouth is at the skin near his shaft’s root. Andri draws his hips back and puts his hand over mine on his cock.
“Trace your tongue along the vein underneath,” he whispers, guiding the angle of his dick toward the sky.
Starting right above my fist, I alternate between lapping and sucking the skin until I get back to his leaking tip.
Then, without instruction, I suck his whole broad, flat cock head into my mouth.
The mint flavor explodes again, and my mouth waters aggressively.
The wetness makes it easy to glide him shallowly in between my lips, sucking the tiniest more of him in with each stroke.
He’s so big that I know I won’t be able to take all of him down my throat, so I make up the difference with both my hands.
I stack my fists over him neatly and begin twisting them in different directions.
He bucks, and his cock hits a spot on the back of my throat that has me gagging.
“Uuuugh,” I say, muffled by his malehood.
He pulls back, his cock slipping from my mouth with a slurping noise.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispers, stroking my cheek.
I swat his hand away playfully. “I didn’t say the T word, now did I?”
The worry on his face flips to something more devious, and he corrects his character break quickly.
“No you didn’t.” He grins, feeding his girthy cock back into my mouth.
When he hits the back of my throat, I wince, but not enough to stop because god do I love the taste of him. Just another perfect feature on the perfect man.
“Just like that,” he sighs, pumping himself slowly in and out. When I look up, he’s got his eyes closed and his chin is lifted. I reach a hand up, between his legs, and gently stroke the area where a human man’s balls would be. He said his were inside, but I wonder if it feels good all the same.
I don’t have to wait long for my answer. As soon as my fingers softly knead the downy fur between his legs, his shaft jerks and he lets out the most delicious groan as his warm, minty seed spills down my throat.
I keep sucking, even though he’s getting soft. I want to draw every ounce of pleasure out of him.
“Such a good girl,” he coos, fidgeting under my ministrations. He attempts to lean down to kiss me, but I don’t stop. Instead I keep going, feeling that slow, lazy throbbing pulse in his dick begin to build again.
“That’s enough,” Andri tries to tell me, but his words only make me want to keep going. “You’ve done such a good job, Daphne, I promise you there’s nothing left—besides, it’s time for me to get the generators going.”
He strokes my hair. His words make it seem like he wants me to stop, but the way he touches me and arches against my mouth has me believing he doesn’t.
I can feel him stiffening again, and I know I’m right. He stumbles back, leaning against the countertop, and I fly off the stool to follow him, trying to keep my rhythm with my hand since he’s slipped from my mouth again.
“If you want me to stop, you know what you need to do,” I whisper as I kiss the fur at his hips. “But I think you don’t really want me to stop.”
“It’s too much,” he groans, hips jerking erratically. I take that as my cue to disobey further and glide his cock back between my lips.
Not a split second later, mint dances across my tastebuds. He slumps, tapping my shoulder.
“T—T—Ted!” he grunts, and I finally stop.
“Nothing left, huh?” I eye him as my tongue darts out to the corner of my mouth, catching the last drop of him.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He sweeps me off my feet and carries me back to the bed. He tosses me down and cages me in with his arms before kissing my forehead. “Now be a good girl and stay put while I go get the genny running? Stay put.”
Andri grabs the down comforter and tucks it under my chin.
“I can help if you need,” I whisper before an involuntary yawn takes over.
“Let me take care of you, it makes me happy,” he says nonchalantly as if the idea that someone wants to take care of me, the idea that I’m not a burden, doesn’t mend some deeply broken part of me.
“Okay,” I say softly as I watch him walk through the front door. And even once the generator hums to life, with a noise and smoky diesel smell that could be annoying, I bask in the physical evidence that someone truly cares about me for the first time.