Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,48

sight of his flushed face, and go still while he grips himself, gasping for breath. He’s losing it. And it’s glorious.

Though his hand’s still in my hair, he doesn’t force me down, he just watches me watch him. “You like this?” He strokes his shaft, the movement exaggerated, showy.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Another slow, painful-looking up and down stroke, another thrust, another smooth caress of his balls. “Fuck. Your mouth… Get used to this. Taking my cock. Tasting me.” His eyes rake up and down my body.

My nipples prick up, as if they know what he means, when I’m not even sure. Does he mean tonight? Does he mean for longer? “Okay.”

“I need you back.”

Tortuously slow, I slide my tongue down his shaft, then lower, to where that left hand’s still working. With a quick glance at his face, I nudge his hand aside and lick his heavy testicles.

He goes absolutely still while I explore him. He’s cooler here, his smell’s sexy and potent. Curiosity and a fresh wave of desire push me to suck on him, the way I sucked his shaft, and his response is electric. Not a muscle in his body moves, as if the thread he’s hanging on is too close to snapping. The only sound in the room’s my hand between my legs and, when I pull slightly away from him, we’re connected by my hot breath and the feel of his quiet, intense scrutiny.

Even that is a link, ephemeral, but real, like the words we exchanged on the phone. We’re in this together. The pursuit of pleasure.

With our eyes joined, I lean down and drag my open mouth from testicles, all the way to the tip of his cock. That’s when I suck him down again—when he least expects it and we’re both weirdly vulnerable. In a flash, I give myself up, become a mess of bodily functions—spit and desire and a need to give, to get.

I go deep and suction my lips, the way the women do in the movies, then come up for air when I have to. I’m a mess of saliva and tears. His hands help me do it again, not quite making me lower my head, but not stopping me either, not holding me down, but showing me that he can. Maybe one day he will, if I let him. If I ask him.

For now, I’m in charge and it’s heady. Growling voice, tense muscles, dark, musky scent—he’s a fantasy come to life. I draw him in until I can no longer see, let him thrust a little farther and then when I think I can’t drag any more pleasure from either of us, put one hand back on his balls, the other on my clit. Every pull has me gasping, wanting more. I back away—a red-eyed, drooling mess, and meet a gaze that isn’t as fierce as I’d imagined, but hazy and lost. His cheeks are red, his eyes almost…soft. “I want to see you come. Wanna taste it.”

He gives a quick nod.

With his blessing, I go to town—a glutton for new things, a glutton for him. I want his tastes, his pleasure on me, in me. I want to bathe in whatever he has to give. So I pull, hard, with my mouth, suctioning his flesh.

It’s up and down, tight, skin to skin, want and want—too much, but I don’t care. I don’t care, because, when he loses his mind in my mouth, it’s everything I could wish for.

He shoves me away, grasps his thick erection in his fist and works it, faster and tighter than I’d dared to. “Where do you want it?” he asks.

It takes me a second to understand what he means. When I do, I can’t hold in a giggle. “I don’t…” I laugh outright, turn, and kiss the tip of his erection. “Everywhere?”

He leans in, bright eyes eating me up. “You don’t even know what it’s…”

I kiss him, hard. “I do.”

“Yeah?”

At my nod, his hand goes back to his cock, working it the way I want him to work my entire body—tight and quick and full of intent. His breath comes out in bursts.

I wait, rapt, as his eyes use me for pleasure, skimming over my face and breasts, down to where I’m rubbing myself, not as hard as he is, but just as fast.

“Oh, fuck, you filthy little slut.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. With you. For you.”

“Good.” He meets my gaze. “Say my name.”

“Karl.” I’m breathing so hard, I almost can’t push the sounds out.