Page 49 of Key of Kink

This was choice.

I leaned closer. “Tell me what you want,” I murmured.

Quinn’s breathing hitched.

“You.”

Something tightened in my chest. Heat. Possession.

I unzipped my leather pants, fished out my turgid cock, and aimed for his lips. “Does you mean this?” I traced the line of his lips with the head, making them shiny with pre-cum. His tongue darted out, but he didn’t lick.

I smiled. “Go ahead. Lap it up. And suck the head while you’re at it.”

His cock jerked.

I grinned. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” Then I stifled a moan when his warm, wet mouth encased my dick.

Fuck yeah.

I pushed a little deeper, and when I felt his tight throat around my shaft, I leaned over and wrapped my fingers around his dick.

This was going to be over in seconds.

I withdrew a little, then pumped my hips, filling his mouth over and over, deliberately not looking at my cock sliding between his lips. Instead, I focused on his shaft, aware of Quinn’s low moans around my own, pushing me closer to my own orgasm. And when the idea came to me, I didn’t fight it, but bent low and took his dick into my mouth.

Quinn groaned long and loud, sending jolts through me.

I paused mid-suck. “Hold on for the count of ten. Then you can come.” Then I added, “Count in your head. Don’t stop sucking, okay? Because if you stop, so do I.” I went back to my delicious task of driving Quinn out of his mind, sliding my lips up and down his shaft, sucking hard on the head, tasting the sweet pre-cum, mentally counting down. When I reached eight, Quinn started to shake, his moans constant, and it was too much for me. I shot hard, pulsing into his mouth, my legs feeling weak.

And we’re there.

Quinn’s warmth coated my tongue and lips, and I took every drop. When I was spent, I pulled free of his mouth. His softened dick lay against his pubes, the muscles jumping in his thighs. I removed the cuffs from his wrists and helped him into a sitting position, steadying him.

“Easy now. I’ve got you.”

Quinn

My arms felt heavy, as though they didn’t quite belong to me yet.

“Easy.” Max’s voice was gentle, low, warm. He rubbed his thumb gently over the marks at my wrists. “Circulation okay?”

I nodded, but it took effort. Words felt far away.

Max unfastened my ankles, rubbed them, then slid an arm around my shoulders. “We’re moving to that couch, all right?”

I leaned into him, my legs trembling. My head felt… floaty.

Max lowered me carefully, as though I was something breakable. Okay, I wasn’t, but having him treat me that way was wonderful. He handed me a bottle of water.

“Small sips,” he instructed, his voice softer now.

I obeyed without thinking. My brain seemed to be on a go-slow.

He sat beside me and pulled me against his chest, not possessively, but there. His hand settled at the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair with slow, grounding strokes.

“You did well,” he murmured.

The words hit harder than the scene did, and I made a small sound that might have been agreement.