Chapter 2 #2
Saliva floods my mouth, sliding out in thick strands, dripping down my chin. It’s filthy, wet, delicious. I let him slide out for a second just to pant, spit hanging from my lip to the tip of his cock, which twitches like it already misses my mouth.
Then I shove him back in.
All the way.
My throat spasms and I moan loud, needy, starving. I hold myself there; nose buried in his curls, my jaw stretched wide, his cock pulsing against the back of my throat. My cock throbs untouched against the sheets.
“Your mouth feels even better—”
His hips twitch. His hand presses down in my hair while I drool around him, swallowing every twitch, every throb, every ounce of his heat.
I suck him faster, messier, letting lewd sounds echo in the room—slck, slck, slck—each pull of my lips dragging more of him into me.
I want it all. I want the taste, the stretch, the sounds he makes, the twitch of his thighs when I take him all the way down.
I want his cum on my tongue again, thick, perfumed, and obscene.
My whole body pulses, mouth wrapped wet and tight around him, cock aching, heart pounding as if I’m being fed something my body recognizes as holy. I suck harder, losing rhythm, drowning in spit and the obscene joy of being full. I want him to come. I need to drink from him.
But Hessou pulls me off.
“No.” With his fingers in my hair, he drags me up with a breathless grunt. “It’s been years. You think I’ll just come down your throat and be done?”
I pant, dazed, spit-slicked and red-faced.
“It wouldn’t be the worst ending.”
He kisses me before I can smirk, hard, open-mouthed and desperate. Our mouths crash, teeth knocking, and I moan into it, grinding my hips against him, desperate for pressure, friction, anything.
He grabs my waist.
“Get on your stomach.”
I turn to sheets that are already a mess. My thighs slide across them as I settle down, face turned to the side, breathing fast. My cock presses into the bed, and my body twitches when I feel his weight shift behind me.
Then his hands.
One spreads over the back of my neck, holding me in place while the other runs down my spine.
He leans in and breathes.
His nose presses to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, and he inhales like he needs it to live.
“I wish I could bottle you,” he whispers. “I tried.”
He kisses the back of my neck. Then again. Then lower. His mouth drags down my spine, his tongue flicking between my shoulder blades, his lips sucking bruises into the small of my back. I shiver.
“You smell like midday rain,” he mutters into my skin. “And wildflowers. And forbidden orgasms. Warm, sweet, and utterly filthy.”
“Hessou—” My voice breaks, cracked with wanting. I grip the sheets; push my ass back into him.
He bites, and then soothes it with his tongue. His hands spread me, holding me open, exposing every part of me. I gasp, body jerking.
Then he breathes in again.
A long, obscene inhale right against my hole, lips brushing over sensitive skin, his breath hot and shaky.
“You’re perfect,” he says. “I’m going to ruin you.”
“You already did,” I whisper back, trembling beneath him.
His grip on my hips tightens, fingers bruising into my skin. Then his mouth is back on me, lower this time, hungrier. His tongue drags over me—slow, then faster, wetter—circling, pushing. I jerk forward, fists clenching in the sheets, moaning open-mouthed into the mattress.
“Ah—fuck—”
He licks me open without patience, like he’s starving, devouring me as if I’m his first and last meal.
His tongue pushes in, and I arch, crying out, because it’s so wet, so deep, and his grip on me is unrelenting.
I can feel the way his nose presses against me, how he keeps me spread, his tongue moving in filthy circles until I’m shaking, leaking, and muttering nonsense into the mattress.
He pulls back with a final kiss, and I hear him open a drawer. Something glass clinks, and I barely have time to register it before he’s back between my thighs, slick fingers pressing against me.
But the smell.
God.
It hits me like a physical blow. The moment the oil touches my skin, the scent blooms—heady and sharp, sweet and spicy, a deep aroma of clove and candied lemon zest undercut by something floral and smoky. It fills my nose, curls down my throat, makes my mouth water.
“What is that?” I gasp, grinding back against his hand, turning my face to look at him. “I want it in my mouth.”
Hessou chuckles.
“It’s a weak imitation of you.”
I freeze.
“What?”
“I created it thinking of you. I’ve been refining it for years.” He presses a finger inside me, and my whole body pulses white-hot. “Every time I fucked someone, I used this. Just to pretend it was you.”
I groan so loud it borders on a sob. “You— ahh fuck—”
His fingers move deeper, coating me with the warm oil, opening me wide. I can’t stop moving, can’t stop clenching, chasing the heat of it.
“Let me suck your fingers. Let me taste it.”
He withdraws only to crawl up over me, straddling my hips, his slick fingers pressing to my lips. I suck them into my mouth, greedy, moaning around them, tongue curling, tasting the oil—my oil—mixed with the trace of me.
Hessou drapes himself over my back, his chest pressed flush to my spine, his breath pouring hot into my ear.
I feel him everywhere—his weight on my hips, the hard line of his cock slick against my ass, the tremble of restraint in his arms as he holds himself back.
His other hand grips my jaw, firm but trembling, thumb spreading the corner of my mouth so he can watch me suck him.
“You’d suck anything I put in your mouth.”
I don’t bother pretending I wouldn’t.
His cock presses harder between my cheeks, wet with pre-cum and the oil smeared between us. His hips roll once, slow and teasing, and the drag of him against my skin makes me groan, mouth full, hips pushing back instinctively.
I whimper as he pushes his fingers deeper, hitting the back of my throat. I choke around them, saliva spilling past my lips, dripping from my chin onto the sheets.
“Keep moaning like that,” he pants, “and I’ll come before I’m even inside you.”
He pulls his fingers out slowly and smears the wetness across my cheek.
“Then hurry and ruin me again.”
He laughs a breathless sound, and leans down to lick the spit from my cheek before shifting his weight.
His hands slide to my hips, lifting me just enough to get better leverage, and I feel the thick head of his cock nudging at my hole, burning hot and so wet.
I clench without meaning to. He shudders.
“Hold still,” he growls through his teeth.
“I am,” I pant into the sheets. “Please, hurry...”