Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Without a mirror, I’m not sure if I’m doing a good job, but I dab the lipstick on and cap the tube when I’m done.
“Good,” he says. “Put it away and crawl back to the room.”
I fucking hate him so much. I repeat the words like a mantra in my head, taking strength from my loathing as I crawl back over the floor.
“Stop there,” he says when I reach the foot-end of the bed. “On your knees facing me.”
I do as he says, glaring up at him.
He walks over and stops in front of me. When he reaches for his buckle, my mouth goes dry. He can’t be doing what I think he is, but my worst suspicion is confirmed when he pushes the button on his waistband through the hole, pulls down his zipper, and takes out his cock.
He slides a fist over his length, pumping twice. A drop of precum leaks from the slit in the broad head. Even now, even in these circumstances, I can’t help but be fixated by the sight of him naked. He’s the only man I’ve seen, the only reference I have of a male’s anatomy. I have a feeling he’s in a different league, that no other male can compare, and I only despise him for it more.
His voice is frosty, devoid of lust or desire. “Stay on your knees and spread your legs.”
What’s the use of fighting? If he wants to use my mouth as if I’m nothing but a whore, I’d rather get it over with.
When I’ve complied, he gives another instruction. “Put your hands on your thighs and keep them there.”
I hold his gaze as I follow out the order, but his eyes remain cold and unforgiving. Fisting one hand in my hair, he grips my face in the other. The pressure he applies on the joints of my jaw has my lips part of their own accord. The minute my mouth is open, he slides his cock inside.
I’ve seen him, but I haven’t tasted him. I never returned the favor. I’m not inclined to do so now, but he doesn’t need my cooperation. He pumps through my lips with a steady rhythm of shallow strokes. The ice in his eyes melts into something different, something carnal and feverish but not less cold. There’s no emotion, only the lust he refused to show earlier.
I try to swallow around him, but it’s impossible. He doesn’t have to push deep to stretch my lips as wide as they can go. He’s big enough to make me battle to take more than the head. Saliva dribbles down my chin. The sounds I make are wet and sleazy. They belong in a porn movie or in a peep show. I consider biting, but I have to remember why I signed up for this. I have to think about my family.
Holding me in place, he pushes deeper. It’s difficult to breathe. I flatten my tongue to accommodate him and to prevent myself from choking. He grunts his approval when I accidentally lick the crest. His taste comes as a surprise. I don’t want to like it, but how can I not when he tastes like the ocean and salt and wind?
Tangling his fingers tighter in my hair, he tugs my head back. My eyes water from the sting on my scalp. Without warning, he shoves himself so deep down my throat he’s buried balls-deep in my mouth. I gag around him, suffocating. The lack of air makes me panic. It’s impossible to keep my hands on my thighs. My body goes into survival mode. Fighting for air, I dig my nails into the back of his pants, gripping handfuls of fabric.
Unlike me, he’s calm and collected, staring at me with fascination. “Easy. Just take it. Take me. You can do it.”
He pulls out and lets me breathe.
I gulp air in noisily, my chest heaving with the effort.
Not easing his grip on my face, he smooths a hand over my hair and wipes away the sting. “Your red lips stretching around my cock is so damn hot. When you swallow me down like that, it’s hard to hold back.”
Before I can find my voice, he slides his cock into my mouth again and shifts his hip, aiming for the back of my throat. I gag and renew my fight, hitting him with my fists anywhere I can reach, but he thrusts with a steady pace, his gaze fixed on my mouth.
Just as white spots pop in my vision, he comes. He empties himself with another grunt, letting go of my face to wrap his fingers around my neck instead. Satisfaction bleeds into his eyes when I swallow.
There’s no mirror in the room, but I don’t need one to know I’m a mess of mascara, saliva, and smeared lipstick.