Page 176 of Terror at the Gates

“You aren’t lying to me, are you?”

“Why would I lie?” I asked.

“To get what you want,” he said.

My gaze dipped. His cock was literally pointing at me.

I raised a brow. “Are you sure it isn’t whatyouwant?”

“I told you,” he said. “I always want to fuck, but we went hard, little love.”

“Zahariev, if I’m asking you to fuck me again, we didn’t go hardenough,” I said.

His gaze darkened. I didn’t think he liked the way I was critiquing his work.

“Dry off and wait for me in the bedroom,” he said.

“Any particular requests?” I asked.

“I’ll put you where I want you,” he said. “Just fucking go.”

I left the shower and toweled off, though my hair was still wet enough to drip coldly down my back. Zahariev entered the room shortly after, pausing just outside the door, eyes trailing my body hungrily. I suddenly recalled a time when I couldn’t get him to look beyond my face.

“If it’s too much, tell me,” he said.

I appreciated that he always offered an out. I thought I could handle anything, but I could be wrong.

He only approached after I nodded and then gripped my jaw, his finger pressed against my lips.

“Suck,” he said, and I took him into my mouth. He inched closer and spoke quietly. “I’m going to fuck your mouth so hard, you’ll forever think twice before you tell meI didn’t give youenough.”

All the blood in my body rushed right to my clit.

“On your knees,” he said and released me.

I lowered to one and then the other, back straight and eyes level with the base of his cock. His balls were heavy, and I wondered what sound he would make if I took them into my mouth.

Zahariev’s fingers sifted through my hair until he’d gathered it in his fist. With his free hand, he guided his cock to my open mouth. A thick bead of precum oozed from the tip, which he dragged over my lips. I made a noise in the back of my throat, relishing the eroticism of it all.

This was fucking hot.

“Suck me, little love,” he said.

I was salivating as I reached for him. I was glad he let me play, because I truly loved the pleasure of making him moan. It thrilled me like nothing else. Each swirl of my tongue brought on a different, deeper noise, and it drove me wild.

I glanced up at him as I licked his balls and took one into my mouth, then the other. His hand was tight in my hair, and he watched, then tilted his head back, body tense and glistening. I thought he almost forgot his intention of fucking my mouth, but when I released him and started kissing up his dick again, he gripped my head in both hands, letting out a low growl.

“Fuck, you make this difficult,” he said.

I grinned. “I told you I like going down on you.”

“If this wasn’t a sin, you’d be a fucking saint,” he said.

It was probably blasphemous to even imply the possibility of sainthood for blow jobs, but I’d take the veneration.

After a brief pause, he let me start again, but this time he actually held true to his word and thrust into my mouth.My eyes watered. Deep throating wasn’t my expertise, but I tolerated it in the past. With Zahariev, it was different though. I liked how he looked while doing it, focused and yet completely out of his mind. Right now, I could be the vessel for his pleasure.

I gagged when he hit the back of my throat but breathed through it as he held me there. When he pulled out of my mouth, I was breathless but eager to take him again, except that he dragged me to my feet and pushed me onto the bed.