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Charlotte trapped my hands, pushing them over my head, curling my fingers so they wrapped around the back of the couch. She pushed herself up on her knees so my chin was nestled between her breasts. Looking down, she said, “But you can take a little pain, can’t you?”
“Huh?”
“Stay just like this, please.”
I nodded as Charlotte slid off my lap and kneeled between my legs on the floor. She put the warm heat of her tongue to the tip of my cock—still in the joggers—the grey color of the fabric darkening. I felt my slit leaking, adding to the dampness.
“I’d really rather not come in my pants two days in a row.”
I felt the vibration of Charlotte’s laugh against my cock and groaned.
“I suppose that’s reasonable. Here, lift up.”
I lifted my hips as Charlotte grasped the waistband and brought them down to my knees. My cock sprang free, standing in salute to the gorgeous blond on the floor before me.
Charlotte eyed my cock with hunger. “Well, that explains last night. You’re working with a real lightsaber in your pants, to work through two layers of denim.”
“I’m not sure why I’m surprised that works for me, but it does. Please wield my lightsaber, baby.”
Charlotte laughed. “Nope, you ruined it. But you’ll still get what you want.”
She leaned forward, circling her tongue around the tip, dipping into the slit, and lapping up the beads of pre-cum. She took my entire cock in her mouth, as far as she could go, before releasing me and bringing her hand up to stroke my cock. Her grip was just a hair too light, and meeting her eyes, I realized she was very aware.
“Something you’d like, Hayden?”
“Your mouth, your hand, firmer. I’m not picky.”
“My favorite—dealer’s choice.”
Charlotte bent back down over my cock, swallowing as much as she could, her hand covering the rest, covering me from root to tip. She bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm, and I felt my balls start to tighten already. Her other hand came up to palm them, and my hips started to thrust. My hand came down to rest on the top of her head.
She stopped suddenly.
“Wha—”
“Hands on the couch, please and thank you.”
I growled as I removed my hand from her head and returned it to gripping the fabric. I was going to owe Duncan a new couch if I wasn’t careful.
She returned to her work, adding in a swirl of her tongue around the tip after every third stroke. The familiar tingling in my balls returned and again, my hips thrusted gently in time with the strokes of her mouth. I felt my balls draw up and then?—
Charlotte licked her lips, her mouth no longer around my dick, her fingers squeezing at the base.
“Fuck!”
“Something wrong?”
“Nope, just peachy,” I gritted out, recognizing Charlotte wanted me to beg to finish.
“Perfect.” Charlotte smiled wickedly before running her tongue from the base of my cock to the tip. A groan left my chest, with no chance of restraining it. Her mouth moved down to my balls, taking one, then the other in her mouth, her fingers running feather light up my thighs and across my pelvis, but avoiding my leaking cock.
“Mmmpf,” I said, past the point of forming words.
Charlotte looked up at me, her fingers continuing their trail of torture.
Something in her blue eyes, promising wickedness and affection at the same time, broke me.
“Charlotte, please, can I come?”
