Chapter 3 #3
The sight of him fondling her out in the open sent another spark of desire through me, and I found myself looking away in search of a pair of dark green eyes. But as I glanced over my shoulder to peek at the poker table, I found Pistol wasn’t there.
I sat up straighter, instantly and unabashedly on the hunt for the man I wanted.
I felt him a second before I gasped, startled to find him standing directly in front of me.
He paused a beat, long enough for his eyes to travel down the length of me and up again—a journey I felt as if he’d used his hands.
Shit, how I wanted those hands.
On me.
In me.
Everywhere.
His eyes found mine, and I swear he read my mind—his entire expression darkening enticingly before he held out his hand.
“Enough eye fuckin’. Let’s go.”
I didn’t even blink.
As I slid my fingers across his palm, I fought a smile and a shiver.
The smile, I beat.
The shiver, I did not.
I knew he felt it when the corner of his mouth twitched and he turned, headed for the hallway. As I trailed after him, I didn’t even bother looking back, too excited about what was ahead of me—and possibly a little distracted by his four-legged companion, who trotted along beside us as we went.
Pistol led me straight to the fourth door on the right.
All three of us entered, he flipped on the light, then shut and locked the door.
I was on the cusp of turning my face to get a glimpse of his space, but then he had hold of my chin, his fingers spanning the length of my jaw, his grip firm but not unyielding.
It got my attention, anyway.
I watched as his eyes danced around my face before they landed on my lips.
My insides quivered and I felt my clit pulse as he leaned into me—close enough that I could smell him—close enough that on my next breath, it took everything in me not to shut my eyes and get lost in the pleasantly earthy scent of him.
Rain. Moss. Leather.
He was a forest in which I wanted to wander and get lost.
For one night, I wished to be reckless and free.
“Want these red lips wrapped around my cock,” he said, extracting me from my thoughts and pulling me back into the moment.
My sex trembled in delight, and I leaned into him a little—my inebriated state and his desires stated plainly making my knees weak.
I was awesome at giving head.
I knew this without a doubt.
I knew this because I’d done it enough times to be sure.
I also knew I had a talent for it because I liked it.
I got off on it.
I was a sucker for the empowerment that came along with the act.
He wanted my red lips around his cock, and I wanted to give him that.
I let him know this by reaching for the button of his jeans.
His eyes shot up to find mine when I freed it, and we stared at one another as I lowered the zipper of his fly.
It was when I hooked my thumbs over the denim and into the waistband of his boxer briefs that he let go of my face.
I dropped to my knees, yanking his clothes down with me.
At the sight of his dick—impressive even at only half-mast—I couldn’t silence the soft cry that sounded from the back of my throat. A fresh surge of wetness coated my insides, and I marveled at the way this man managed to get me drenched without even touching me.
Hell—I needed this.
This night.
This moment.
Pistol.
I grabbed hold of the base of his cock and slowly dragged my tongue along the underside of him. His hips jerked instantly, and I heard his barely contained grunt in response.
My bundle of nerves pulsed again, hyperaware of our circumstances.
I hadn’t had a man inside of me in months—but Pistol—Pistol hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in years.
Peering up at him from beneath my lashes, I considered the magnitude of the moment. Sure, it was only a blowjob; but, so far as I could tell, it was a blowjob of significance. His first one after gaining his freedom.
This was a blowjob I didn’t want him to ever forget.
I licked him again then curled my fingers around his shaft and stroked him while I took one of his balls into my mouth. I sucked one and then the other, feeling it as he grew fully erect in my hand.
He was heavy—his cock long, thick, and perfectly proportioned to the rest of him.
When he was ready, I didn’t shy away from taking him into my mouth, peering up at him as I did so.
I couldn’t fit all of him, but I could tell right away what I could manage was more than satisfactory for the both of us.
I knew this because no sooner had I wrapped my lips around him than his fingers were tangled in my hair, a low, rumbly growl of pleasure sounding from someplace deep inside of him.
So deep, the reverberation of the sound sent a shockwave through my entire body.
I moaned, suddenly unbelievably turned on, and anxious to give him my all.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
One word.
One breath.
But it was all the praise I needed.
I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him harder, and he made a noise that sounded almost desperate—like whatever hold he had on his sanity was slipping. Feeling both emboldened and victorious, I didn’t let up, determined to get him there.
Then his grip in my hair tightened, and I felt it as he lost control.
I recognized the shift when he held me still and took over.
Rather than panic at his unmistakable, unhinged prowess, I gave in and let go.
Instinctively, I relaxed my jaw, and he cursed under his breath as he began to pump his hips.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he ground out, thrusting harder. “Fuckin’ prettier than I thought it would be, these damn lips—fuck,” he muttered.
He hit the back of my throat, making me gag, but I concentrated on keeping my shit together, ignoring the burn of my eyes while focusing on breathing through my nose.
I grabbed hold of the back of one of his thighs with one hand, reaching beneath the skirt of my dress with the other.
I needed more. It was too much. The taste of him.
The smell of him. The power of him. All that combined with a longing I’d been battling for hours.
Yeah, it was too much.
The throbbing between my legs was unbearable.
I was tracing my fingers along the front of my thong, with every intention of moving it out of my way, when Pistol stopped, his grip in my hair tighter still—the bite of his tug causing my scalp to burn.
“No,” he growled.
Actually growled.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”
In spite of my heaving chest, rising and falling from the air I was trying desperately to take in through my nose as I battled my arousal, I paused and obeyed.
“You’ll take my dick, then you’ll swallow my cum. I’ll eat your pussy and return the favor. I like what I taste, I’ll take more. That’s how this goes. The only way it goes. Hear me?”
Seeing as his dick was still in my mouth, the hold he had of my hair making it near impossible for me to move, I did the only thing I could. I extracted my hand from between my legs, slid it around the back of his opposite thigh, gazed up at him, and swallowed around the tip of his cock.
He grunted, jolting his hips slightly before he smirked down at me and mumbled, “Yeah. You hear me.”
I dug my fingertips into his legs, anxious for him to get on with it, then swirled my tongue around him.
This earned me another growl, which made me ache.
Then I forgot all about the ache as he started to fuck my mouth.
The noises I made as he kept at me were completely unavoidable.
There was something about the way he held me.
The way he stared down at me. The way he seemed completely enamored by my painted lips around his hard length.
He was lost in me, and the reality of it made me high.
When I whimpered, it wasn’t in pain or frustration or even impatience—it was in desperation. I was so wet, I could feel my arousal slipping down my inner thighs.
I wanted him to come.
I wanted to swallow him.
And I was downright eager for him to return the favor.
Sensing he was on the verge, I moaned louder, hollowed my cheeks again, and dragged my fingernails down the back of his thighs. To my delight, the next thing I knew, he was coating the back of my throat.
“Hell, yeah,” he grunted, his hips twitching erratically.
When he was finished, he loosened his hold in my hair before slowly easing his dick out of my mouth. I didn’t bother pretending I wasn’t appreciative of the ability to breathe greedily through my lips.
I only managed to gulp down a couple breaths before he had hold of my face again. He forced my head back, so I had nowhere to look but into his dark green eyes.
For a second, I thought he’d kiss me, and it surprised me how much I wanted him to—my longing not merely visceral but almost vulnerable, like the touch of his lips on mine would give voice to the depth of his approval.
His approval in his choice of me that night.
He didn’t kiss me.
To my bemusement, he grazed the pad of his thumb across my chin, wiping away the mess of saliva smeared below my lower lip.
“Better than I imagined.”
He murmured the words so softly, his deep voice all but masking the clarity of his statement, I almost didn’t catch what he said. I barely registered the sentiment before he jutted his chin behind me.
“Bed, babe,” he demanded. “On your back. Dress up. Knees spread. Now.”
Remembering his promise from earlier, I didn’t need to be told twice.
Like I was his to command, I dropped my hands to the hard, cool floor in an effort to help myself to my feet.
No sooner was I was upright than I made my way to the bed, lowered myself onto it, and leaned back until I was propped up on my elbows.
I then hooked my heels into the metal bed frame on which the mattresses resided, unabashedly spreading my knees wide.
When I was situated, I cast a brazen look at Pistol and found him standing where I left him. His jeans were back up over his hips, but his dick was still out and in his hand.
Fuck me, he was still half hard.