Page 44
Story: Play Maker
The growl that comes right before he pulls my center to his face sends my heart into a frantic pace. The bead of liquid lust seeps out of him, and I moan at the slippery feel of it.
Gripping him more firmly, I begin to stroke him as I suck.
His hand skates up the back of my neck, and his fingers tangle in my hair. “Just like that … Just fucking like that.” He thrusts into my mouth, but not enough to gag me, so I take him deeper, wanting to see how far I can take him. He’s at the back of my throat, my eyes are watering, but I don’t care.
As good as his mouth feels and as uninvited as Skinner is, this … doesn’t let me see him. So I move.
“Where the hell …?”
He stops when I settle between his legs and take as much of him in my mouth as I can.
“Lo,” he groans that sexy lowLothat’s now my favorite sound as I start to suck down the length of him, tongue flat against the sexy veins on the underside, and all the way up to wrap my lips around the broad head. I suck harder.
I love the taste of his skin, the feel of him in my mouth, so much that I don’t wanna stop. I keep licking his thick, hard, beautiful cock, only blinking when I take him too deep, hating it and loving it when I do. Loving it because he bares his teeth; hating it because it makes me pause.
His jaw tightens, his hands flex like he wants to grab a hold of me but doesn’t dare, like I might stop.
Not a chance.
His eyes lock onto mine. His gorgeous eyes grow heavier and wilder. I’m going to crave this look—his undoing, his lust, want, desire, and need for me.
I continue faster, deeper, gagging myself, and loving every second of it.
“May wanna stop that real soon,” he hisses as his head hits the back of my throat and I continue to suck down his length, “or I’m gonna fill your sweet mouth—fuck …”
I grip him harder, stroke him faster, and then take him again, all the way to the back of my throat.
“Gonna swallow every fucking drop.”
I do not relent. I suck, and lick, and stroke until my name comes out.
“Lo.”
His first burst of hot cum hits the back of my throat, and I was not expecting … And another, and yep, another.
Is this normal? Doesn’t matter. It’s definitely not what I expected, but I swallow quickly.
“Fuck,” he says softer. “Just … fuck.”
Chapter9
Comfy
Kolby
Her bed smells like her—that perfect blend of lavender that seems to calm me and whatever else is there. Yesterday, it was lemon. Today, like towels from the dryer.
Her sheets are the kind you wanna sink into, not hotel-crisp. But the homey kind—comfy. I sink into them deeper, one arm behind my head, eyes tracking the way the ceiling curves with the silo walls.
It’s quiet, except for the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint sound of running water behind the half-closed door. My body’s loose, heavy. There’s a hum in my blood that hasn’t settled yet. The kind that only shows up when someone’s got their mouth on you with purpose, like they’re doing it to make a point.
And Lo? Purposeful or not, she made a point.
The door creaks open. She steps out, barefoot, long, dark waves hanging over one shoulder, mouth still wet from rinsing me out.
My stomach tenses in that low, reactive way, not hunger, not need exactly, just … awe. And maybe disbelief
She wipes her hands on a towel and asks, “What?”
Gripping him more firmly, I begin to stroke him as I suck.
His hand skates up the back of my neck, and his fingers tangle in my hair. “Just like that … Just fucking like that.” He thrusts into my mouth, but not enough to gag me, so I take him deeper, wanting to see how far I can take him. He’s at the back of my throat, my eyes are watering, but I don’t care.
As good as his mouth feels and as uninvited as Skinner is, this … doesn’t let me see him. So I move.
“Where the hell …?”
He stops when I settle between his legs and take as much of him in my mouth as I can.
“Lo,” he groans that sexy lowLothat’s now my favorite sound as I start to suck down the length of him, tongue flat against the sexy veins on the underside, and all the way up to wrap my lips around the broad head. I suck harder.
I love the taste of his skin, the feel of him in my mouth, so much that I don’t wanna stop. I keep licking his thick, hard, beautiful cock, only blinking when I take him too deep, hating it and loving it when I do. Loving it because he bares his teeth; hating it because it makes me pause.
His jaw tightens, his hands flex like he wants to grab a hold of me but doesn’t dare, like I might stop.
Not a chance.
His eyes lock onto mine. His gorgeous eyes grow heavier and wilder. I’m going to crave this look—his undoing, his lust, want, desire, and need for me.
I continue faster, deeper, gagging myself, and loving every second of it.
“May wanna stop that real soon,” he hisses as his head hits the back of my throat and I continue to suck down his length, “or I’m gonna fill your sweet mouth—fuck …”
I grip him harder, stroke him faster, and then take him again, all the way to the back of my throat.
“Gonna swallow every fucking drop.”
I do not relent. I suck, and lick, and stroke until my name comes out.
“Lo.”
His first burst of hot cum hits the back of my throat, and I was not expecting … And another, and yep, another.
Is this normal? Doesn’t matter. It’s definitely not what I expected, but I swallow quickly.
“Fuck,” he says softer. “Just … fuck.”
Chapter9
Comfy
Kolby
Her bed smells like her—that perfect blend of lavender that seems to calm me and whatever else is there. Yesterday, it was lemon. Today, like towels from the dryer.
Her sheets are the kind you wanna sink into, not hotel-crisp. But the homey kind—comfy. I sink into them deeper, one arm behind my head, eyes tracking the way the ceiling curves with the silo walls.
It’s quiet, except for the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint sound of running water behind the half-closed door. My body’s loose, heavy. There’s a hum in my blood that hasn’t settled yet. The kind that only shows up when someone’s got their mouth on you with purpose, like they’re doing it to make a point.
And Lo? Purposeful or not, she made a point.
The door creaks open. She steps out, barefoot, long, dark waves hanging over one shoulder, mouth still wet from rinsing me out.
My stomach tenses in that low, reactive way, not hunger, not need exactly, just … awe. And maybe disbelief
She wipes her hands on a towel and asks, “What?”
Table of Contents
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