Page 38 of Locked in Wonderland

Would he come down my throat?

Probably.

And the worst part was that I wasn’t even mad about it. I slid my knees further apart and palmed my aching cock through the leather. It was woefully unsatisfactory. I endured it for less than a minute before freeing myself. If he could see me, then so fucking what?

It was dry without lubricant. Normally, I’d have used spit, but there was no way he was letting me pull off long enough for that. Not with the way he was thrusting into my mouth.

Dry would have to do.

It had only been a couple of hours since I’d last come. My cock didn’t seem to care.

Greedy bastard. It wanted another orgasm, and it was getting damn close to achieving that goal. I’d barely finished the thought before he pulled back, the pressure on my cheeks vanishing.

“What…?” I sounded like I’d been gargling with razor blades. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Don’t you want to come?” That sounded no better.

Hands fastened beneath my armpits, hauling me upright.

Big cock.

Muscular thighs.

Strong.

I hadn’t finished compiling the list before my face was shoved into the wall. He dragged my leather trousers down to mid-thigh and dug fingers into my hips. A harder grip than the one he’d used on my face. A cock pressed against my hole for the second time that night.

I arched instinctively, making access easier as he pushed inside.

God, yes.

Much better than my hand.

Although I had that too when he wrapped a hand around my cock and stroked in time with his thrusts.

Slow fucking soon became pounding. Relentless, and oh so fucking good.

Every inch he gave, I took. And then pushed back for more.

Who the hell had I turned into?

Teeth grazed my neck. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to make me think he might. A tongue followed, soothing the sting. Then he did the same to my shoulder. All while maintaining the same fast and furious rhythm, driving both of us to the brink of coming.

His orgasm hit first. Mine came seconds later.

It left me boneless and breathless against the wall, his body still pinning me there.

No condom.

Again.

How had I let that happen twice? His weight settled heavily against me, and I tried to summon some hatred. It proved impossible, the feeling of lassitude too great. I closed my eyes and drifted for a moment, exhaustion—both physical and mental—making me feel like I could sleep.

The sharp sting of his withdrawal from my body dragged me back.

“Now what?” I asked the darkness. The only answer I got was the sound of footsteps retreating. “Are you just going to leave me here? Answer me!”

Nothing.

This place was so twisted.