I want to deepen those grunts of pleasure he releases each time he drives his cock deep in my throat, using my tongue for friction. I want to roughen them and turn him into a mess.
So I act on pure instinct and continue loosening my jaw the farthest possible and make that dreaded eye contact. But now, it’s not only about the meeting of gazes or exchanging vulnerabilities, it’s a challenge.
His lids drop as he slows the rhythm of rocking his hips. “Stop looking at me like that unless you want me to fuck your throat.”
I stop moving my mouth altogether and maintain eye contact.
Do it, I say with my eyes. Fuck my throat.
“Bloody hell. Who knew I would have a wild one on my hands?”
I like that. Being wild.
But I don’t get to think about it further, because now, he’s thrusting in—long, hard, and untamed. And my mouth is there for the taking, for his own pleasure, the same way he used his fingers for mine earlier.
And I let him.
Not only that, but I sink into his dominance, swallowing as much of him as possible despite the drool and the tears stinging my eyes.
It’s a good type of pain.
The type I didn’t think I needed until now. The type that smashes my walls open and leaves me bared and thirsty for more.
And his reaction? I could bask in it for days. I could listen to his low grunts and deep groans forever. The sound turns me on.
That’s when it dawns on me.
His pleasure turns me on.
My thoughts are confirmed when I feel that he’s close. I want to get him there, I want to make him come undone like he did to me.
And just when I think I’ll succeed, he pulls out.
His hard cock is in his hands and it’s glistening with precum and saliva. My saliva that I’m currently swallowing with his taste.
“Why…?” It’s a single word because I’ve apparently lost the ability to speak properly. Throat-fucking does that, I guess.
“As much as I love your little mouth, I’m going to empty myself inside your cunt, beautiful.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from moaning. His dirty talk is like a lash against my most sensitive part. Seriously, he shouldn’t be talking so filthy and ending it with “beautiful.” There needs to be a rule against that.
“Bed. Now.”
I scramble to my feet, the order twisting something inside me. Something so primal and raw, I can’t find a name for it.
Instead of focusing on that, though, I make the short trip to the bed. Before I can reach it, he grabs me by the thin strap of my dress and pulls down the zipper, then yanks the material down my arms, sending my butterfly pendent flying.
It’s a full yank, no mercy or softness whatsoever. The way his hand skims over my skin is nothing short of dominant.
He’s a man who knows what he wants and won’t hesitate to go after it.
Just like the men from my life.
He’s probably as dangerous as they are, too.
But that doesn’t matter.
No one will be able to find me once I disappear.
I’m standing naked in front of him since I didn’t wear a bra either, and it’s a vulnerable position, one I never allowed myself to be in before. I don’t let self-doubt creep in, though.
Tonight is about my body. Only that.
Without turning me around, he grabs a nipple in his fingers and twists, then squeezes, then twists again.
My toes curl in my heels—the only thing I’m wearing right now aside from my birthday suit.
Then he does something else—while still behind me, he wraps his hand around my neck, but he’s not crushing my windpipe. His fingers squeeze on the sides until I’m a bit lightheaded and completely at his command. Then he keeps teasing my nipples. They’re so tight, it hurts and sends jolts of pleasure to my pussy. Or maybe it’s his hold on my throat that causes it.
Either way, I’m so stimulated, it takes effort to suppress my voice and stop releasing the little noises.
“For a talker, you’re so quiet right now,” he muses. “Are you biting your tongue?”
I jam my teeth harder until I’m sure I’ll break the skin.
“It’s useless to hide your voice from me, beautiful.” His lips meet my ear again. “You’ll scream.”
I’m about to say no, that good girls like me don’t scream, but then he gives me another order I can’t resist. “On your knees.”
I fall.
Just like that.
There’s something about the way he issues orders, a command that needs to be obeyed, or else it’ll wreak havoc.
“I want those tits on the mattress, legs wide apart and your ass in the air.”
My cheeks go up in flames at the image, but they nearly explode when I’m in position.
I hear the ripping of something and turn sideways to find him rolling a condom onto his cock. Jeez. I never thought I would find this of all things hot, but on him, it’s so much of a turn-on that I gulp.
“Eyes ahead, beautiful.” He lowers himself behind me and I stare at the hotel’s wallpaper, my ears heating.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be against any type of eye contact, but I forgot about my own rule just now.
He grabs both of my wrists and holds them at the small of my back, then something soft wraps around them. That’s when I catch a glimpse of his tie from my peripheral vision.
For some reason, it feels as if I’m completely at his mercy now and he proves that when he digs his strong fingers into my hip and thrusts in.
I was ready for it, soaking wet even, but it feels so sudden that my whole body jolts forward.
It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would, though. There’s a sharp sting, but it quickly vanishes, probably because I’m so aroused that I’m about to burst, or maybe it’s because he’s so entangled with my body that there’s no room for me to feel the extent of the pain.
He pulls out a little, then stops.
Has he figured it out?
Of course he did. The British stranger will know I lied to him and he’ll stop and this night will end. My trip to Neverland will finish before it even starts.
But apparently, that’s not the case, because the only reason he pulls out is to thrust in again. An electric shock paralyzes my whole body and I wish there was something I could hold on to. My bound wrists forbid me from latching onto anything, and somehow that sends tingles down my spine where my wrists are bound.
He wraps my hair around his fist and my head angles up, even though my chest stays on the mattress which adds friction to my sensitive nipples. The motion is so possessive, drool forms in my mouth.
And it’s not only because of the position. It’s his mad rhythm. He thrusts deeper, harder, rougher. The pace is so crazy and out of control that only the slaps of flesh against flesh echo in the air. Oh, and the sloppy sounds of my arousal.
I should be ashamed, but I’m not, not even a little.
I’m completely at a stranger’s mercy as he fucks me like he hates me. He fucks me like he owns every part of me while still having a vendetta against me, and yet I love it.
I love it more than I should.
It should be demented—handing so much control to a man I just met, but it’s a fantasy, right?
And fantasies don’t have limits.
Fantasies don’t have shame.
Fantasies are just like me when I was a little girl and pretended to be Wendy and had the whole forest as my audience.
My thoughts are scattered when he pulls on my hair harder and then a burning sensation explodes in my neck. He’s biting it, I realize. His teeth are so deep in my skin, I can feel it right between my legs.
Drool gathers in my mouth and just when I’m about to shriek, he sucks on the skin with an intensity that leaves me gasping.
What the hell is he doing to me?
I don’t get the answer to my question, because he does it again on another mouthful of flesh, then again and again, until I’m in a constant state of bewilderment and arousal.
“Your pussy is tight as fuck, it’s strangling me, beautiful.”
“Not like my mouth?” I don’t know how I speak—it’s shaky, like my breasts against the mattress.
“Even better. And that mouth will do another thing for me now.”
“What…?”
He slaps my ass and pulls on my hair. “Scream.”
My shriek echoes in the air. I can’t even bite my tongue, because if I do, I’ll just cut it off.
The wild orgasm hits me like a hurricane and I’m helpless in its hold.