“I need you to tell me, Rayna. You haven’t told me since you left me,” he growled. His voice was low and hoarse.
My eyes shot up to him, but he didn’t open his, just remained reclined and defeated. I made my way to his belt and then his waistband of his slacks. I tried yanking down his boxer briefs along with his slacks, but soon discovered I needed his assistance. Much to my relief, he slowly lifted his lap so that I could pull them down. Not able to get them down to his ankles after being caught with the loveliness of his beautifully erect, glistening and throbbing appendage, with rash effort I pulled him into my mouth, deep, desperate, and greedily taking relentless draws of him. With a need down deep in my belly, my tongue rolled over his head in lightning and firm speed, summoning drops of his fluids to quench my emotional thirst. I applied gentle chomps and moaned at the appreciation of being in Azmir’s lap instead of any other’s, inhaling his sensual musk from his private area. I yearned for it, I needed it.
His spine became fluid, so he attempted to sit erect in his seat and I relished the roll of his abdomen muscles as his belly lurched. He moaned angrily and I could, too, sense his hesitation. His haunting thoughts of Thompson and me being as intimate in any way.
He wouldn’t open his eyes when he slurred, “Tell me.”
With two determined fists, I jerked him, beckoning his juices into my mouth, my belly. Badly, I wanted it to wash me of the despair I felt from coming so close to losing him. To Dawn? I stroked and pumped and swirled and sucked with hollow jaws. When his back coiled and slammed into the sofa, I knew he was ready. In desperate anticipation, I repositioned myself on my knees to prepare to catch him, every ounce of his sweet juices.
“No…ahhh!” he bellowed and I went into a frenzy, drawing him in and pulling him out of my mouth until the first squirt of his specimens hit the roof my mouth, causing me to grind my pelvis in the air below him. I was so turned on I moaned on every morsel from him. It was so much and I was eager to catch it all, filling my belly until he stilled beneath me.
When he peered down at me, I saw vengeance, it was in the snarl of his lips and the cocking of his neck. He reached down to me and with his thumb smudged a drop of his semen, that must have escaped my mouth, over my mouth back and forth, lubricating my swollen and pounding lips. He used the same smug look he wore in San Diego. It hurt.
“Say it. Tell me.”
My heart crushed in my chest and tears chased down my face. Why is he doing this to me? Then it hit me. I never saw him kiss Dawn Taylor, but he saw Thompson with me. He had a visual to haunt him possibly forever, I’d only had my imagination.
“Fucking tell me, Rayna!” he yelled.
I sat there on my knees, trembling through tears and lied to him through a shaky whisper, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He growled. Frustrated, he stood and lifted me to my feet. Then he stepped out of his shoes, pants, and boxer briefs with a penetrating glare. Circling me like a predator, he completed 360 degrees.
Azmir lifted me into the air, forcing me to straddle him and walked us into the dining room where he forcefully pushed the decorative place settings to the side, breaking a glass and plate on the far opposite end without flinching.
He laid me out on the table and with the same deadpan glare he muttered, “I will make you scream it.”