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And I felt free to let myself go.
I didn’t fail to notice how he watched my breasts bounce, and I couldn’t even pull my hands away and hide as my fingers dropped from his shoulders to his toned biceps, needing to feel any part of his skin beneath mine.
I knew he was doing this for me, resisting the urge to slink his hands up under the hoodie he’d defaced for me.
I gave up caring about anything but that moment, grinding my crotch against his cock, wishing I could feel each silver bar slide into my pussy and give me pleasure.
His fingers weaved through my hair, grabbing and tugging, and then he pulled my head to where he wanted it.
“Kiss me, and then fucking come on my cock.”
“Remi, I...”
I could feel the orgasm building, a strange sensation that started in my stomach and sank down to my core. I surrendered to it.
My mouth opened, sucking in air. My hips bucked faster, the denim chaffing my thighs as they grated along his hips.
Soft lips crashed against mine, silencing the scream rising up my throat.
My body stopped convulsing but continued to tingle. Remi’s mouth moved to my neck, and he nipped and then sucked, soothing the burn he caused.
I rocked slower, but my body was drained.
But he didn’t push. He took nothing more from me than a stolen kiss from my lips, already open and swollen with the need for more.
“Your kisses taste so perfect. You’re an aphrodisiac, Little Dream.” Sex coated every syllable, and I tingled for him all over again.
“And do you want another taste of me?”
My mind wandered to somewhere I had no memory of it ever going, to a place where I was braver and freer than I’d ever been as a woman owned for sex and torture.
I was in a place called euphoria, somewhere I’d never known to exist, probably led there by him and his sex-hazed come-to-bed eyes that had lit up over my words.
My ass lifted from his lap, and my fingers slipped inside my underwear, and I could tell by his heated look, he wished it could be his hand to touch me there. His fingers sliding through my cum and feeling my heat.
But he couldn’t touch me there.
He’d feel all my disgusting scars.
And he didn’t attempt to, his fingers digging into my hips as he held on to his slipping control that my new free and wanton self was stretching as thin as it would go.
“Do you want to taste me, Remi?”
Cum coated my fingers, the tips perfectly glossed as I brought them into the light. His eyes stayed locked on them, watching as they moved to his mouth and coated his lips.
He inhaled before his tongue peeped out and stole a taste.
His head dropped back, resting on the back of his desk chair. His long legs swung us slightly, assisting the love overdose that made me giddy.
“More,” he begged. “Just one more taste.”
My fingers slipped back inside, edging just inside myself. I took them to his lips. His hand snapped around mine, not appreciative of my slow and torturous movements.
His tongue smeared the length, and he sucked them into his mouth. His hand held them close, and he was unable to let go until my fingers no longer tasted like me. The scent of my arousal no longer filled the air as it slipped down his throat.
His trembling fingers loosened on my hand, and he pulled away.
“I have to go.”
