"Test me, Princess. Go ahead and see if I'm making idle threats."
"So go on," I say, dropping to my knees on the floor. "Tell me what I am, again." I unbuckle his pants and take his massive cock in my hand.
Caulter groans. "You're the most stuck-up -"
Wrapping my hand around the base of his cock, I lick him, base to tip, the pre-cum salty on my tongue. I slide my lips over his head slowly, savoring everything about him...his taste, his scent, the way he moans under his breath, the sound guttural, deep in his throat. Then I pause, looking up at him. "And you're an asshole."
"Goody-goody," he says, grabbing a handful of my hair.
"Dickhead." I let out a moan when he muffles the word by pulling my head forcefully onto his cock, yanking my hair at the roots. I wrap my lips around him as he pushes his way further and further into my mouth.
"Prim and proper, straight-laced little virgin," he says, as I relax my throat, taking him in as far as I can, the irony of his words not lost on me. I cup his balls with one hand and he groans, pulling my head back and forth along his length, refusing to let me be the one in control. It's a few minutes before his grip on me loosens and he lets me go. I pull away from his cock, wrapping my hand around his base and sliding it up and down his length, his skin lubricated by a mix of our fluids. He warns me, his tone gruff. "You had better put your mouth back."
"I haven't been a virgin for months now, thanks to you. And you're an arrogant, egotistical prick who can't think about anything except getting laid," I say, unable to resist.
"Nerd," he says, but his head lolls back as I jerk him off into my mouth, my tongue stroking the end of his head.
"Manwhore." I wrap my lips around his head, sucking in as I stroke. I cradle his balls with my other hand.
"Shit," he says, pulling my head down farther. "Suck it like you mean it, Princess."
So I don't. I pull away from him. "I told you to stop calling me that."
"Go ahead and keep doing what you're doing with my cock, Princess," he says, "On your knees like that, with your sweet little mouth hanging open, and I'll come all over that pretty little face of yours."
The throbbing between my legs threatens to undo me. I want him more than I can stand. I stroke him, my grip firm. "I'd rather take it all in my mouth," I say, my voice low. "Jackass."
Gripping my head with both hands, he fucks my mouth, so much pre-cum dripping from the tip I think he's going to explode. I've gone down on him a handful of times now, but he's always stopped long before coming in my mouth, yanking me away from his cock and rolling on a condom before burying himself inside my *.
I want to taste him.
"Fuck, I'm going to come," he says, warning me, but I grab his thighs, swallowing him more deeply. "Kate..."
I moan my response, my tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, and I suck harder as I feel him start to lose control.
"Shit, Kate," he groans, his hands gripping my hair, holding me in place as he lets go, filling my mouth with his seed. I swallow once, then again, as his cock pulses, shooting the liquid into my throat.
After he comes, he doesn’t waste a minute, pulling me immediately to my feet. “Your fucking mouth,” he says.
“Don’t tell me,” I say. “I need to shut it, right?”
“Your mouth is fucking amazing,” he says. “You can keep your mouth open as long as my dick is inside it. Prude.”
“Thanks for the generous offer. Spoiled brat.”
“I can be generous,” he says, zipping up his pants. He’s still wearing his tuxedo, only now his shirt and jacket have a rumpled look, even though he’s been standing the whole time. He loosens the button on his jacket, and places it neatly on the chair by my desk. Watching me from across the room, he barks an order. “Strip. Now.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s romantic.”
“You already know that I don't do love. And you don’t want romance,” he says, undoing his cufflinks and then the buttons on his shirt. “You want someone who will tell you exactly what he’s going to do to you, and then fucking do it. And what I want is to see you take off that dress like you did the other night and show me that sweet body of yours.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He just peels off his shirt and slides out of his pants, the whole time never taking his eyes off me. Turning, I back toward him and let him unzip the back of the dress, and it falls heavy to the floor.
His hands are on me, palms sliding over my arms, down my waist, then across my ass. When he brushes his fingers against my * lips, I’m already so close I nearly come in response to his touch.
I inhale sharply before I speak. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” he asks. He takes his hands off me and I’m afraid for a moment that he’s not going to touch me again.
“What -- where are you going?”
He takes my hand. “Kneel over me,” he tells me as he lies down on the floor.
“What? Why --”
“Put your * on my face,” he says. “Now.”
If I weren’t already so hot I could barely speak, the command alone would make me weak. I start to turn around, but he stops me.
“No,” he says. “Face forward. This is all about you.”
I kneel over his face, my * inches from his lips, and watch with rapt fascination as he arches up and touches the tip of his tongue to me, licking from one end to the other. A gossamer strand of my juice hangs off the end of my lips, and he groans as he begins to lap me.
I'm nervous, self-conscious despite the fact that this isn't the first time his lips have touched me. But when he grasps my ass cheeks in his hands, pulling me hard against his mouth, that feeling dissipates. “Oh my God, your mouth,” I moan.
He growls and holds me away from his face, looking at me with his mouth shiny, covered in my juices. “I love the way your * tastes. I can’t get enough of it.”
I moan softly, conscious of the guests downstairs, the crowd of people gathered to celebrate my father’s engagement to Ella. We have to be quiet; anyone could hear or come looking for us. The thought makes me hotter, and as Caulter covers my * with his mouth, eating me like a starving man, I ride his face, threading my hands through his hair.
I slide a hand to my breast, kneading it, tweaking my nipple between my fingers as I fuck his mouth, riding him as he brings me higher and higher. His tongue seems to be everywhere at once, flicking over my clit, thrusting inside me, teasing me, making me think about his cock. He grips my ass, his fingers spreading my cheeks, and I feel his fingertip against pressing against my asshole.
I squirm at his touch, at the pleasure that surges through me in response to his finger, and I think I hear him laugh, the sound muffled between my legs. He grips me harder, pulling me against his face as he devours me. I’m quiet, trying with everything I have not to cry out the way I want to, mindful of the fact that if I do, someone will hear me. Someone will walk in to see me buck naked, riding my new step-brother’s face like he’s a fucking horse, my breasts bouncing in the air.
Caulter has his tongue lodged in my *, his fingertip pushing into my asshole, and the thought of someone seeing me like this, while I'm being so thoroughly debauched by him, pushes me entirely over the edge.
When I come, it’s blinding. I'm gasping for air as I nearly yank his hair out by the roots, trying only to focus on keeping my mouth closed and not screaming. Waves of pleasure, the pent up frustration of being around Caulter for a week, the jealousy of seeing him with another girl, wash over me, and I come hard against his face.
The orgasm isn't even finished when he lifts me up. “On your hands and knees,” he growls.