Blowjobs have never been my thing. I used to find them tedious and, quite frankly, a little gross. But now that I’m faced with the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen, the idea of putting it in my mouth not only feels natural—it feels necessary.
I engulf him in my mouth and start sucking. I have no idea if I’m doing this right but I figure that dedication will take me pretty far. So I put my hands on his hips and suck him as deep into my mouth as I can take without actually gagging.
My heart is pounding and so is my vagina. Both are practically screaming for attention. His attention, specifically. But I don’t want to take him out of my mouth. I kinda wanna see how far I can take this. If I keep going, will he come in my mouth?
The fact that the very thought has my heart fluttering harder is strange and out of character. Who am I? No—who is he making me?
I’m settling into the blowjob when Uri suddenly pulls out of my grasp and backs away. The first thing I feel is disappointment. Then nerves.
Was I not good enough? Was he bored? Did I hurt him with my eagerness?
Before I can ask any of those questions, he shoves me back onto the bed and I bounce pitifully in place. I get about a millisecond to keep wondering what I did wrong before he’s on top of me. He steadies me with his body and I draw in a breath as his heat slides over mine.
This kind of thing would have had my skin crawling a month ago. But right now, it’s making my toes curl. It’s making the wetness drip down my thighs.
“Uri…” I gasp as my lips latch onto the side of his neck.
He snarls hungrily as his erection presses firmly against my thigh. I part my legs a little wider, hoping that he takes that as the invitation it’s meant to be. But he still holds himself away.
“Mm, eager little narushitel…” he snarls, nipping at my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
He dips a little lower until he’s at eye level with my breasts. He squeezes one, pushing my nipple up high before he circles it with his tongue.
God help me.
I’m aware of how needy I’m being, trying to push my hips against his, moaning and writhing and trying to tempt him into taking me the way I want him to. I’m practically a porn star at this point.
But even my best attempts don’t seem to have an effect on him.
Well, that’s not true. His eyes are blazing with lust. I don’t know much about men, but I know lust when I see it. I know he wants me but for some reason, he’s holding back.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth again and I groan. I can feel his cock at my lips and—
I gasp when he pushes into me. Not his cock—his fingers.
“You’re so wet for me, Alyssa. You’re fucking dripping all over my hand.”
I was right about one thing: he is gonna kill me—just not in the way I thought.
“Uri!” It comes out sounding breathless and angry and frustrated all at the same time.
He raises his head and chuckles cruelly. “What’s wrong, pretty kiska? Something bothering you?”
“Stop teasing me!”
Another dark chuckle. “Is that what you want?” he asks, rubbing his cock against my slit. He’s still not inside me, but another inch, two maybe, and he will be.
“Yes. Yes… aah…”
He grabs my hands and pins them down on either side of my face. Then he presses himself down against me. “If you want me to do this, I want something from you.”
I should’ve known there’d be strings attached. The proper answer here is “hell no.” I should be pushing him off me and drawing a firm line in the sand. But instead, I nod feverishly. “What do you want?”
Real empowered there, girl. Nice work. You just set feminism back a hundred years.
“I want you to let go,” he whispers into my ear. “I want you to give yourself over to me. If I feel you holding back, there will be punishment.”
My thighs are wet at this point. I’m not sure if I’m more excited for the sex or the promise of what comes if I disobey him. I can barely move. My legs are jelly and my arms are locked in place. There’s nothing I can do and nowhere for me to run.
And still, I don’t feel scared.
Not in the slightest.
I mean to say, “Okay, I’ll let go,” even though I’m not fully sure what he means by that. But what I really say is, “You can have all of me.”
If I’d been in better control of my faculties, I’d be cringing for sure. As it stands, I’m too weak and trembly to care about silly, abstract things like sexual power and politics.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
Two words have never sounded sweeter.
And that’s when he shoves himself inside me. My mouth drops from the sheer size of him. I remember the sensation in every cell of my body and yet somehow, that night on the dining room table feels like such a long time ago.
I cry out as he fucks me as though he has a point to prove. His hands stay clamped tight on my wrists like living cuffs. His jaw is clenched tight, his eyes focused. And then suddenly, he grabs my chin and shoves my head to the side, breaking the eye contact. His lips come down on my neck, scraping and biting and claiming.
“Fucking hell, Alyssa…”
Hearing him utter my name like that as he fucks me isn’t something I’m expecting. Maybe that’s why it makes me feel like I’m the one in control all of a sudden.
I may be pinned to the bed. He may be the one calling the shots and making the rules.
But I’m the one making him unravel. I’m the one he’s been craving.
His lips brush over mine for a second, making my body erupt with tingles. My back arches as I come, moaning in his ear the entire time. I clench and spasm and bear down with every inch of me and the motion milks Uri’s orgasm free, too.
“Goddammit,” he growls as his hands tighten around my wrists and he keeps his hips pressed flush against mine while tremors rip through him. “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”
The moment he’s emptied himself inside me, he rolls over, freeing me from the prison of his body. I’m gonna need a minute or ten to recover so I can remember how to do stuff like breathe and swallow and speak words.
Not him, though. Before I can even turn to him, he’s up and out of the bed. His name is on my tongue, but I bite it back. If he doesn’t break the silence, then neither will I.
It doesn’t stop me from hoping, though.
He gathers up his clothes, gets dressed without ceremony, and then, without so much as a glance in my direction, he strides out of the basement.
He leaves me with his cum running down my legs and the knowledge that, for the second time in a week, we’ve neglected to use protection.
I clean myself up before collapsing back onto the bed, my head swimming with emotions I’m not capable of processing yet.
The penultimate thought I have before I fall asleep that night is, Is he watching me?
The last thought is, I hope so.
22
URI
“Boo!”
I don’t react as Polly jumps out from behind the door frame of my office in a half-assed attempt to make me jump. “Don’t do that,” I drawl. “You’ll hurt yourself.”