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My jaw ached from the exertion, my muscles taut, coiled and crying out for release. I hadn’t thought that I could get any kind of pleasure from performing oral sex—and if a woman had told me prior to that, I would’ve called her a liar.
Yet there I was, pleasure burgeoning inside of me from just the act. I’d never climax from that alone, but it wouldn’t take much to get me there. Just some friction and I’d explode.
Though I wasn’t one to quit, to accept failure, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go. Elliot was just so fucking big. And I was also greedy, practically mad with need. Moisture escaped from the corners of my eyes. From the effort. From the restraint it took me not to take my free hand and put it on my aching clit.
“Calliope.” My name sounded like it was said under water.
I looked up, Elliot still filling my mouth, my vision clouded by tears.
“Give me your mouth.” There was a thickness, a roughness to his voice I didn’t recognize. When I released his cock to properly look at him, I understood why. Elliot’s face was a mask of arousal and of restraint. The veins in his neck were protruding, his brows furrowed, eyes dark with pleasure.
Renewed desire rushed through me like a fucking blood transfusion. I’d done that. Taken him there. I had plenty of power of my own despite being on my knees, taking orders.
My mouth… He’d wanted it. On his, I presumed.
And I so badly wanted to obey his command, wanted him to taste my desire, his pre-cum, everything.
Yet my knees were throbbing, my limbs jelly, so I was doubting my body’s ability to push up to cross the distance to his mouth. I wanted to scream in frustration and shame that I’d sunken to such a state.
When Elliot saw me pause, his hands swiftly went under my armpits, tugging me upward and plastering our mouths together in one smooth move.
I groaned in delight as our tongues met, as he took over the kiss, my own mouth aching from the exertion of stretching around his cock.
He kissed me until the blood returned to my extremities, until it felt like my knees would hold me again, like I was strong again.
Detaching us, he took hold of my neck as his eyes roved over every millimeter of my face. I had no idea what I looked like right then. My lips were likely red, swollen, my hair a mess around my face. Surely, my heated cheeks were flushed by the intense yearning emanating from my every pore.
“You took me like such a fucking good girl.” Elliot looked at me like I was the first sunrise after a month of darkness, his rough voice full of approval.
My tongue darted out to lick my lips, tasting of him.
His eyes followed the movement.
“You can stand?”
Hearing the concern in his voice, I nodded slowly.
“Good.” He manhandled me backward, setting me on unsteady legs.
“Undress.” He was sitting in his chair, cock still out, moist from my mouth and standing at attention, yet somehow, he did not look anything but the hottest man on planet Earth.
I didn’t pause before shedding my dress, relieved to remove the texture that was too much sensation on my skin. The act of tugging my dress off wasn’t sexy; I wasn’t performing some kind of strip tease. But if Elliot had wanted me to slow down, he would’ve told me to.
He didn’t.
In under a minute, my dress was discarded on the floor and I stood panting and naked in front of a fully clothed Elliot. My nipples were hard peaks, my knees quivering from the act of holding myself up. If I so much as brushed my thighs together, I feared I’d erupt.
Though I wanted to move, wanted some kind of release, some kind of mercy against the relentless pounding between my legs, the chills pebbling my skin, I stayed rooted on the spot, my eyes on Elliot, waiting for his command.
He hungrily took in my naked body, his hand going to his cock and giving it one purposeful and impossibly erotic tug as if he couldn’t resist, eyes on me, grunting in pleasure at the single stroke.
“Sit on my cock, Calliope,” he ordered, still holding himself at the base. “I know you’re fucking soaked and ready. And I’ll be paying attention to that cunt later. But for now, I need to fill you the fuck up and feel you come against my cock.”
My body was impacted by the words, my stomach pitching in response to the heat in his tone, at the weight of his wantonness.
On shaky legs, I straddled him on the chair, going on my tiptoes as my thighs stretched at a slightly unnatural angle in order to properly position myself.
I gasped as the head of his cock brushed against my entrance, giving my wet flesh the attention it craved.