Now the pain, the deterrent, was gone, his dick bloomed to full mast.
I eyed it, then looked up at him and said, "You don’t wear this to bed anymore. Just through the day."
He bowed his head in agreement, then his nostrils flared as I reached down and dragged off my camisole.
"Fuck," he ground out as I grabbed a hold of my breasts and played with my nipples. "I love your tits, K."
I smiled at him. "I know."
Pinching the nipples, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of his shaft. As I did, he groaned, and the sound was so animalistic, so pained and tormented that I swore it made my pussy clutch at the emptiness inside me again.
Taking note of his hands which were clenched down around the windowsill, I carefully tongued the slit, tasting the precum that was already slipping free from it, then I sucked the tip in between my lips.
"Holy fuck," he ground out, his hips bucking.
I sank my mouth further down his length, palpating it with my tongue, stroking the underside of the vein with it, then when he released a pained grunt, I let go of my breasts and sank one hand between my legs.
Through the gusset, I could already feel how wet I was just from the noises he was making, and I squirmed, rocking my ass against my heels as I began to bob my head up and down his cock.
Sucking hard whenever I made it to the tip, each tortured sound that escaped him made me work harder because I wanted to break him. Not make him come. Just to break him.
I wanted those hands of his in my hair.
I wanted him to do what he’d only ever done once before—let go.
With each suck, I felt him shake because he wanted to come, but I figured he was testing himself here, not my skills. Maybe he didn’t want to be a two-pump chump, though he’d already proven that ten sucks ago.
A groan escaped me as the need to touch my clit hit me hard, but rather than focus on me, I grabbed my tits again as I pressed his dick back against his belly with my tongue.
Letting it flop there, I reached around and let him slide between my breasts, and slowly jacked him off that way, kissing the tip, flicking it with my tongue with every pass.
"Holy fuck," he rasped again.
"Christ, shit—"
"Keira, baby—"
"Please, fuck, don’t stop."
His words were a litany, and that he swore at all was a huge breakthrough.
When that didn’t get him to grab a hold of my hair, I let my tongue rim the holes from his piercing, which made him jerk. Then I reached down and grabbed a hold of his balls, and instead of twisting them like I’d seen him do so often, I sank my mouth around his shaft as far as I could before pulling back and sucking one in too.
As I palpated my tongue against the much-abused organ, I cosseted it with affection before I pressed one hand to his knee, urging him to spread them wider, as I let my tongue roll down his perineum.
Ass clenching before I could get further, that was what had his hands grabbing my hair, and the bite of pain was so sweet that I almost burst into tears.
"Where do you think you’re going, baby girl?"
The threat, the delicious hint of a growl, the taunt and the demand had me shuddering as he guided me back to where he wanted me, and that right there changed everything.
He no longer just took, he directed.
If this was a symphony, he was the conductor, and I was more than happy about that.
"Suck me hard, K," he grated out, hissing when I obeyed.
"Lick the tip, let me see my cock in your mouth."
"Look at me as you take my dick, baby girl."
"That’s right, deeper. Deeper. You can do it, Keira, you can—"
His hands tightened, pulling on my hair, forcing a squeal out of me which made him grunt, "Fuck," before he came.
He came and he came and he came.
Jesus, he’d never come so much in his life.
I gagged on it a little as his cum filled my mouth, running out of the sides, spilling down over my cheeks as I tried to swallow but holy hell, for as long as he climaxed, he groaned like he was suffering, like he was in pain and that was the sweetest sound of all.
He didn’t let go of my head, his hold in my hair, for one second, not even when he was done, so his softening shaft stayed in my mouth, cum dripping everywhere, and I let it. Because this was, in nearly twelve years of marriage, the first time he’d ever let me swallow.
When he finally let go, urging my head off, he stared at the cum around my lips, on my chin, the mess he’d made, and his dick stunned me by getting hard again. Was that because of his addiction? Or just because he was turned on by looking at me?
His fingers slipped through his cum, spreading it over my mouth then thrusting the tip of one between my lips.
As I sucked on it, he rumbled, "Did I scare you?"
"You only scare me when you pull away."
He blinked, clearly surprised by my admission, but he merely said, "No more holding back?"
I shook my head. "No more holding back."
"Are you wet?"
Blinking, I nodded.
"Take off your shorts." He held out his hand for me to take as he helped me onto my feet. I shimmied out of them, then did as he asked, "Give them to me." My cheeks flushed when he pressed the crotch to his nose, and he smirked. "Soaked through."
"I-I’m turned on," I said hesitantly.
He threw them aside, then asked, "How many, baby girl?"
His question had me rocking my hips, relieved that this little ritual wasn’t being swept out with the old.
"Two."
His lips quirked up in a cocky smile. "Only two? I think we can do better than that, don’t you?"
A breathy moan escaped me as he surged to his feet, and in one smooth move that somehow managed to avoid our skulls from colliding, he ducked down slightly, grabbed my ass then hauled me against him. As he did, my pussy lips spread, and a small gust of air drifted along my slit which had me laughing as I buried my face in his throat.
"What’s got you giggling?" he teased.
"Nothing," I replied, still snickering, then, I stopped when his fingers gripped my ass harder, pulling the cheeks wider apart.
He uh-huhed me like he didn’t believe me, which told me he knew exactly what had made me laugh, then he moved us to his desk.
"Know how many times I’ve wanted to lay you out on this and feast on you?" he growled as he tipped me back against it.
"Prepared for this, did you?" I whispered shakily when my back collided with bare space, not the usual papers and other crap he kept on here.
"Bet your ass I did. Need to knock this off my list."
I leaned back on my elbows. "How long’s this list?"
He grinned at me, looking so beautifully boyish that it made my heart sing. "Long. There’s at least one or two things I have to knock off it every day for the rest of my life."
Snickering, I reached for the edge of his cut and murmured, "You gonna talk or give me what I need?"
"Never let it be said I kept my Old Lady waiting," he rumbled, his voice dark and deep and, best of all, dirty.
Loaded with a promise that I didn’t think he’d break.
One that I’d make sure he didn’t—that he’d stop holding back. That he’d stop treating me like I was porcelain.