Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,54

him as I could. I timed the bobbing of my head to the sounds of his typing. When he stuttered and slowed, I did as well. When the clicks and clacks went more fluidly, I sucked him with vigor.

It was everything I’d dreamed of. My knees hurt from being on the floor. My body shook with the strain of being folded into so small a spot. And my mind slid into a space of empty contentment, a warm and comfortable blank. I was a tool for Reagan. Something made for this, for taking care of him. Any pain was worthwhile if it meant I could help him.

At this point Reagan was cursing. His cock twitched in my hand and I knew he was close. My body hummed in anticipation, my fantasy not coming close to the fevered heat of reality. I reached to grab my cock with one hand, holding him and taking him deep in my mouth with the other. I stroked myself hard and fast, wanting to come with him.

Fingers knotted in my hair, squeezing enough that the roots sang with pain. “Stop,” he ordered, pulling himself from my eager, wet mouth.

“But you’re so close,” I whined. My mind was still solidly entrenched in the waves of want and need, desiring only to please him, to linger in this place of abandonment. “Please,” I begged, vaguely aware of how needy I sounded. “Reagan, please, I need it, I need to—”

“You need to do as your told,” he said, his tone sharp and voice like gravel. “Get up and open the left drawer of my desk.”

My chin was wet with spit and I wiped it clean before crawling out, knees aching as I did. My legs unfolded as I moved, blood rushing to my feet and toes, creating an explosion of pins and needles. I opened the drawer.

“At the back is lube and a condom. Grab them.”

I whimpered, hand shaking as I did. Oh, Jesus, this was it. He was going to fuck me. I’d never wanted something so badly. When I had the items and had closed the drawer, he held out his hand. “Give me the condom. Then bend over my desk and lube yourself. I want to watch you fuck your ass with your fingers, Channing. It’s up to you to get yourself ready for me.”

My balls drew up, and I was scared I’d come from just his dirty words. Feeling hazy with desire, I moved papers and the keyboard to make room and draped my upper body over the desk. It was snug, but I managed to uncap the lube and douse my fingers before reaching between my legs and beginning to work them into my tight hole.

My ass burned but I was able to relax, pushing one finger in with ease. I slowly began to fuck myself. My skin burned with heat. He was watching me do this, watching me get my hole ready for his monster cock.

He sighed and it sounded full of contentment. “If you ever need to stop me—”

Stop him? My finger was sliding in and out of my ass, and it wasn’t what I wanted. He was what I wanted. “I can’t even think about stopping,” I choked out, fucking myself faster.

“I mean if I go too far. Just say so.”

“What, like a safe word?” I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation while I finger fucked my own ass, but I could feel his gaze burning me as he stared and, oh, I was teetering on the edge already.

“Exactly. For now let’s use tattoo—but we can discuss it if you want.”

“Reagan?”

“Mmm?”

I moaned. “I don’t really want to discuss anything right now. I want you to fuck me stupid.”

I could practically feel his smile. “Add another finger, Channing. You’ll need to stretch yourself for me.”

I made a garbled noise, something that wanted to be words but got lost in translation because my mind was electric and my body a live wire. I slid a second finger in, my tight rim expanding as I plunged my fingers in and out for him. I’d never been so turned on in my life.

“Do you think you’re ready?” I heard him stand, heard the beat of his hand as he stroked his cock. “Do you think you can handle me? Last chance, Channing.”

I moaned and wiggled my hips, frantically fucking my hole. Was I ready? It felt as if I’d been ready all my life. I’d never wanted anything, anything as bad as I