Chapter Sixteen #2
“I can see that, considering how weird you seem to find this. Despite how often you must have just laid there, letting him have the thing he wants while you get nothing at all.” He shook his head, blew out a breath.
Carried on before she could protest. “Did you ever think maybe you getting something you want, once, might be less of an unfair tip of the scales and more of a single drop on one sky-high end that doesn’t even shift them at all? ”
“But what they did isn’t your fault.”
“Maybe not. I love doing something about it all the same.”
She didn’t know when she’d started breathing hard.
But she definitely knew she was doing it now. It sounded loud in the tense silence that followed. Loud, and just a little shaky. And of course he knew what it meant. Somehow he always knew, and yet never seemed to care. Never wanted to humiliate her for it.
The opposite, in fact.
“Yeah, that’s it. Let yourself love that feeling.
Let yourself enjoy the idea that someone loves making you come.
That maybe they’ve been imagining it all the way through dinner, through those movies.
Ways to go about it, things you might like.
Having you on your side, up against a wall, letting you ride me, me riding you.
Maybe spreading your legs, getting between them, licking that slick little cunt,” he said, so deliberate about it there could only be one conclusion.
He wanted her to breathe even more unsteadily.
He wanted her to blush, and squirm, underneath the sheets.
And she did, she did. Even as that nervous part of her tried to protest, she did.
“You’re just saying things to make me not focus on the point.”
“Is it working?”
“Of course it is.”
“You getting all wet for me.”
“I think I was wet for that hand on my shoulder.”
“Nothing wrong with being into a little care and consideration.”
“Feels weird, though. All of this feels really super fucking weird.”
“Think it would feel better if I went down on you?” he said, so matter-of-fact she could hardly stand it. Doubly so when he went on in the same way. “Yeah, I saw the way those eyes lit up when I suggested that. Almost moaned for it, didn’t you. Almost said yes, please.”
“And I will here if you’ll let me do the same.”
“I told you, this isn’t some kind of trade-off.”
“Maybe I don’t think of it that way. Maybe it just gets me hot, thinking of your cock in my mouth. Thinking of you all hot and hard and urgent, fucking into me there as you lick my pussy.”
He went still, gaze darkening.
Voice low and grave when he replied.
“I know what you’re doing, Em.”
“Yeah, but how did you put it: Is it working?”
She raised one arched eyebrow on the end of that, and expected him to look exasperated about it. To fight her some more, maybe. And instead, his gaze met hers, like a challenge. Same as in the elevator, when he’d stopped it.
Only this time, his hands went to his belt.
Then he just started unbuckling it. Frantically, it looked like to her—and she could see why now.
That was definitely the outline of his hard cock underneath the denim.
In fact, it was more than hard. She could see it, right where the deliciously thick head was.
A hint of something wet, something gloriously, gorgeously wet.
And sure enough: when he eased it out of his jeans, there it was.
A slick glossiness all over the tip. Running down the shaft.
Welling in that slit. She honestly came within a hair’s breadth of just licking it up, greedily.
Have at least a little decorum, it’s Miller we’re talking about, she thought.
But before she could even let that idea settle, his hand went to her hair.
Fingers striping right through it, deep into it.
“Go on if you want to,” he murmured.
As if he could read her mind.
Or had changed his about how much pleasure he was allowed to take from all this.
How much he could take, even with her as messy as she was.
In fact, it made her think of his hand crushing the Diet Coke can.
The look on his face in the pictures people had taken.
Maybe on some visceral, primal level he does like seeing me that way, she thought.
And even more strongly when she dipped her head toward that gloriously stiff, slick cock.
Because he groaned when she did.
An abandoned sort of thing, drawn up from deep in his chest. And when she looked up, startled, she could see his head had gone back.
She could see the long column of his throat, cords standing out on either side of it.
Though he looked back to her the moment she got close enough to ghost over him with her frantic, shaky little breaths.
Her tongue just past her parted lips, ready to lick.
Like he wanted to watch.
Like it excited him to.
Though, god, the thrill that went through her, to get proof of it. She met his gaze, and licked. And his cock actually seemed to swell. His body swayed forward; his hand tightened in her hair. Only a reflex, she thought, only an instinct. The way someone might jerk when struck.
But if anything, that just made it hotter.
He was helpless in the face of whatever this was, completely without that steely control, suddenly. Desperate to have her do it, just without the ability to say so. But that was all right—she said it for him. She curled her tongue around the head of his cock, nice and eager.
Then ended on a long, slow lick.
Right over the tip, right over the liquid that was blooming there. And once she’d tasted that salty-sweet deliciousness, she followed it all the way down the shaft of his cock. Lapped at it, so greedily she knew it had to be clear how good he tasted, how hot this made her.
But just in case there was any doubt, she put a hand on him.
She stroked him, from the root to the tip, in a long, slow roll. Mouth just kissing him there as she did so, promising exactly what she was about to do. Then before she did it, she just went ahead and told him. “Oh god, I can’t wait to have this gorgeous cock in my mouth.”
And yeah, it made her blush to do it. A million of their arguments immediately tried to skitter through her mind, telling her that she should be humiliated now.
But once it was out, it just didn’t feel that way.
It didn’t really feel like he was in control at all.
Or even that it mattered if he had been.
The only thing that meant anything to her was this bliss.
So she parted her lips. She let them ease around that swollen head.
Took as much as she could—which wasn’t a lot, really.
He filled her mouth almost immediately. She could barely get past the thick ridge where her hand was still working.
And there was hardly any room to slide back and forth in any kind of rhythm.
But he didn’t seem to care at all.
“Ohhhhh fuck,” he groaned. Then even hotter, even sweeter—he forced out some strained words. “That’s so incredible, watching you work me. You like that, huh? You like trying to take my big cock?”
And she couldn’t even be mad about it.
Because he was right. She did like it. She loved it, in fact.
Though it took her second to fully process why. To fully grasp that it wasn’t just the things he was doing, the feel of that heavy cock forcing her mouth open, the hand in her hair, getting real close to urging her into a particular sort of slide over him.
It was all the things he wasn’t doing.
No choking her. No ramming himself down her throat. No stony silence, as if she were doing everything wrong. Even though he was the kind of man that should be. It wouldn’t have been a shock if he were stoic even during sex. And yeah, in some ways he was.
But not when it came to noticing what she was doing.
Praising it, showing his appreciation. When she rubbed her tongue on the underside of his cock as she sucked him, he told her, “Yeah, just like that, yeah, that’s so fucking amazing.
” When she stopped to lick her hand to make her strokes sweeter, he groaned, panted, told her, “Oh, you good little slut.”
Then apologized for calling her a slut.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, that slipped out,” he said.
But even that was exciting. It made her squeeze her thighs together, and it was obvious why. It meant that this wasn’t only a dirty little fuck. It was something else. Something careful, even caring. And that made it easy to reply.
“Do it again,” she whispered. “Call me it again.”
For a second, she even thought he might. That it excited him to hear her say it. He was very hard now, very swollen. Cock swelling and jerking in her fist every five seconds. Pre-come now almost constantly spilling over that already slick head.
So it was a shock when he spoke.
“All right, that’s enough,” he choked out, and for just a second she froze. She thought, Maybe I’ve got this wrong. It’s not affectionate, it’s not enjoyable, he’s had it. But just as she did, he reached down. He got his two big hands right under her arms.
And he heaved her up, right up, and tossed her onto the bed on her back.
She made a sound, it was that sudden and strong and thrilling. Then again, once she realized what he was doing. He went for the shorts she’d fallen asleep in the moment she was sprawled there. Slid them down over her still-flailing legs, like it was nothing at all.
And before she could think about it, he’d spread them. Both thighs pressed to the bed by those big hands. Everything exposed to his gaze, in the lewdest possible way. It made her squirm for a second, half sure she wanted to get away.
Though he knew it.
“Want me to stop?” he said.
And it was all she could do not to scream not a chance.
“No,” she said instead. “No, god, no.”
“More, then.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah. It’s okay. It’s exciting me.”