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With one hand on my ass, he uses the other to align himself with my entrance. Driving into me with such force that I yelp, he laces his fingers around my throat.
“You.” He slams into me and tightens his grip around my neck, repeating his motions with each subsequent word. “You. Are. It. For. Me.”
As I struggle to breathe, he continues to thrust with brutal force. “All. I. Fucking. Want.”
My nails claw at his back, and my thighs squeeze around his waist as he fucks me with animalistic need. Wave after wave of electricity surges through my body as he brings me over the edge.
“Sam,” I cry out as he thrusts in deep, but it’s a mere whisper through the vise around my neck.
Releasing my throat, he turns off the water. Still buried inside of me, he kisses across my breasts and up my neck before whispering, “I not fucking done with you yet, love.”
His strong arms wrap firmly around me, and he plunders my mouth as he carries me to the bed. Laying me down gently, he slides in and out of me in slow, steady strokes before pulling himself from me.
Gripping my hands, he spins me on the bed until my head is hanging over the edge. He rubs the head of his cock against my lips and commands, “Open wide for me, love.”
He taps the soft skin of the tip teasingly against my lips, and I dart out my tongue.
“Is this what you want?” He presses between my lips, and my tastebuds are flooded with the slight tang of my arousal as he slides over my tongue. “Show me how much you enjoy sucking the sweetness of your delicious cunt off my cock.”
His hips thrust lightly, pushing his length repeatedly over my tongue as I hollow my cheeks and diligently suck every bit of my flavor from him.
Gripping beneath my chin, he tips my head further off the bed, allowing him to push into my throat with ease. He slides every inch down before stilling.
“Give me your hands,” he commands as he pulls far enough from me that I can suck in a breath. Sliding back down my throat, he pulls my left hand behind his back. Leaning forward, and pushing in even deeper, he presses my other hand between my thighs and slides my fingers over my clit. “I want to watch you as I fuck your throat.”
He begins slow, languid strokes over my tongue and down my throat, his eyes fixated on the fingers rubbing between my thighs. Rubbing over and around my already sensitive clit, I groan around him. In response, Samuel changes his pace. His strokes become faster and deeper.
My fingers rub diligently over my clit while he fucks my face, needing desperately to come.
“That’s it,” he encourages me, “show me how much you love it when I fucking use you. How much you love being my little fuck toy.”
Adding his fingers to mine, we rub fervently at my clit as he rapidly fucks my throat. Blackness creeps over the edges of my vision as he deprives me of air and works me toward the edge.
My body explodes so hard that every muscle in my body convulses, and I scream around the cock buried in my throat.
“FUCK!” Samuel roars as he comes down my throat. Sliding himself from my mouth, he climbs onto the bed and pulls me to his chest. Holding me against him, he brushes the hair from my face as I slowly catch my breath.
“All I want, love.” He softly kisses my forehead. “Forever.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
DETECTIVE MICHALES
Walking into Latte Da, the last person I expected to this soon was Samuel Millington. Just a few days out of the hospital, fresh off the back of the disappearance of his so-called girlfriend, he’s standing at the counter like it’s any other Tuesday.
Clearing my throat as I approach him, I nod my head as he turns to face me. “Mr. Millington.”
“Detective Michales.” He feigns a smile before turning back toward the baristas hastily making coffees.
“I know you’ve been to the precinct to discuss the details of your alleged mugging?—”
“Alleged?” He quickly turns to face me with a scoff. “I had twenty-two stitches, ruptured my spleen, and nearly died. I think we can move past the alleged disposition.”
“Samuel?” the barista calls from behind the counter as she places two coffees down.
He promptly places a sizeable tip in the jar on the counter and grabs the two cups before him. Turning back to face me, he quips, “Always a pleasure, Detective.”
Without another word, he walks to the door and uses his shoulder to nudge it open.
