Unconsciously, she licked her lips nervously.
He groaned. “Baby, don’t tease me like that. You’re killing me.”
Instantly, she understood—and wanted the opportunity to drive him mad. Since she’d walked into his dungeon, he’d had more than one chance to dish out the sensual torture. This could be hers, and she wanted it.
“I’m not teasing,” she whispered.
“Shit, Cherry.” He drew in a shuddering breath and stepped closer, wrapping his hands around her head. “This has been one of the most potent fantasies I’ve had for years. Suck me.”
When he drew her down to his turgid cock, she opened her mouth, conscious that he watched her every move with unblinking eyes. She could feel his rapt attention all through her body. Excitement settled right beneath her clit.
She licked the head once experimentally. Salty, musky, earthy. All man. She shivered as his flavor flared through her, addictive on her tongue. So she lapped at him again.
His hands tightened on her head and he hissed in a breath. “You’re trying to kill me.”
No, but she couldn’t lift her mouth from his thick stalk to tell him so. Instead, she closed her lips over the bulbous tip and shook her head, humming a little denial. His hips jerked, his body bucked.
“Deeper, Cherry.”
She sank lower on his cock, her lips skimming as much of the velvety flesh as she could. There was no way she could take him in completely, so she settled for lapping her tongue around him on her way back up, tasting the head again in a series of little licks, then cradling him as she worked back down. He jerked once more, his body tightening as she braced her hands on his hard thighs. God, he was like a rock everywhere, and while that was sexy, what got to her more was how much she aroused him. The fisting of his hands in her hair and the little curses he couldn’t hold in spurred her on to take him deeper again and again, until he pushed at the back of her throat.
Tara’s mouth felt overfull. Suddenly, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She panicked and tried to shove him back. Logan held firm.
“Calm down, baby. You’re not choking. I’ll stay as still as I can. Breathe through your nose. It’s okay.” She heard his words, but they didn’t compute until he added, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He wouldn’t; she knew that without hesitation. With that thought foremost in her mind, Tara focused on breathing through her nostrils. Relief hit her. She swallowed, and the back of her throat pushed against the swollen head of his dick.
Logan cursed again. “Jesus. I’m trying really hard to go easy on you, but damn . . .”
Her inexperience was showing. She’d given a few drunken blow jobs in college and been criticized for her technique once. Brad had never seemed that enthusiastic when she’d gone down on him. Maybe she sucked, and not in the good way.
Tara backed away, and his wet c**k slipped from her mouth. “Sorry if it’s not working for you. I don’t do this a lot.”
That made him grin from ear to ear. “Cherry, you were doing wonderful, but it does my heart good to know I’m one of the few who’ve been in your mouth.” He tapped her cheek. “Open up, tongue out.”
Automatically, she complied, and something inside her heated at his gentle command. Logan took himself in hand and eased his hard flesh back onto her tongue.
“Don’t move yet,” he advised. “I want to watch this.”
Slowly, he slid his c**k against her tongue, from the large, salty head leaking fluid, past the ridge, down the entire silky length, until he was pressing back against her throat again.
“Now close your lips around me.”
Tara didn’t hesitate, and the heat of his flesh in her mouth fit perfectly. She moaned.
“Good girl. I want to f**k your mouth. If it’s too much, snap your fingers, okay?”
She’d barely finished nodding before he set a blistering pace as he thrust past her lips. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair again as he groaned and slid over her tongue, to the back of her throat again and again.
The taste of him suffused her. His scent sank into her pores.
“That’s it, Cherry. Dear f**king God, you’re going to kill me. Yes, baby! Oh, yeah. Damn . . . I’m not going to last. Now swallow me, every drop.”
Tara tensed. She’d never actually swallowed. The few times she’d managed to finish the job, she’d always discreetly spit into a nearby cup or sink. But the thought of this intimate act with Logan, pleasing him, she was nervous, but not scared.
She sucked harder, pulling against his thrusts to create more friction, running her tongue all up and down his length, nipping at the head with her teeth.
“That’s it. I’m . . . there. Damn.” His fingers tightened in her hair. He pulsed on her tongue. “Fuck!”