Page 91 of A Real Goode Time

I smiled, loving his disbelief, the rapture of his pleasure. I went deeper, and he groaned all over again, hips flexing. I grasped him by the root, cupped his balls, and decided it was time to quit playing around and make him come.

Not fast, buthard.

I stroked him, cradled his balls, and used my lip and tongue on his head, slowly, lovingly. He groaned, growled, and now his hips were lifting off the bed, flexing up, touching down, only to lift again, needing a rhythm, wanting more, aching to come. I felt his balls tighten. Felt his belly go rock hard. Heard his breathing hitch.

“F-fuck,” he snarled. “I’m…god, I’m so close, Torie.”

I knew that. I felt it.

Wanted it.

All of it.

Wanted him to lose his mind. Lose all control.

“Don’t hold back,” I whispered.

“I…I don’t think I’m capable of it,” he growled, his voice hoarse and ragged.

I kept doing what I was doing, alternating speed and the way I used my mouth, keeping it slow. I made love to his cock with my mouth, is what I did. Kissed it, tongued it, made it mine.

I would never have anticipated liking this. I’d always sort of assumed I wouldn’t, that I’d probably do it if asked, but that was about it.

No.

This was…power. He wasmine. His pleasure wasmine.

I loved every second of it. Especially as his hips lifted, and began to pump.

“Mmm,” I hummed, as he started involuntarily flexing, pumping his cock into my throat. “Mmmhmmm,” I moaned, and then gulped around him.

“Ohfuck, Torie, oh fuck, holy fuck…what are youdoingto me?” he gasped.

I moaned again, and he snarled as my throat humming tightened around him, and now he was thrusting, helpless and wild, and I let him, pulled away far enough that his thrusting brought the head of his cock to the back of my throat and no farther. I moved my hands around him in time with his manic pumping, stroking him hard now, with one hand around his root and the other cupping and squeezing his balls the way I knew he liked so much.

“I’m gonna come ohgodTorieohFUCKohgod…”

I felt the way his sac tensed, throbbed, felt the vein running under his balls and up the back of his length as it pulsed. I knew the explosion was imminent.

His hands jerked in my hair, twice. “I’m gonna come, Torie,” he gasped, warning me at the last possible moment.

“Mmmm,” I hummed, eager for him to let go.

He was writhing, hips pivoted as far up as they would go, heels braced on the floor, lying back on the bed, not really thrusting so much as trying to push deeper into my mouth, into my plunging fist.

Another ragged groan, and then Rhys broke.

I tasted a flood of tangy, smoky salt on the back of my tongue and then I had to gulp. I pulled away so only the plump head of him was in my mouth and I squeezed his balls and stroked him fast, and tasted his orgasm in rush after rush.

He was arched, hands in my hair and on the back of my head, holding me against his cock, pushing me deeper, so I went deeper. His cum filled my mouth and I swallowed, but not fast enough, and it trickled out of the corners of my lips around his massive throbbing shaft, down my chin.

Again, he spasmed, and dear God how much cum did the man have? More of it filled my mouth, overloading me, and I swallowed some but couldn’t take it all at once and he was still groaning, gasping, ragged and raw, and the wild bliss on his face and in his voice and in every line of his body was beautiful, the desperate ecstasy was glorious, the fact that I’d brought this man to this state of helplessness and powerlessness was…intoxicating.

Finally, it felt like he was done coming, and I backed away, let him out of my mouth, kept my lips sealed against the hot thick mouthful of his essence I hadn’t swallowed yet. I kept stroking him, milking his climax for all he had, and was rewarded with another tiny pulse of liquid seeping out of him, a broken gasp from Rhys accompanying it.

He was panting raggedly, as if he’d just done a hundred-yard dash, uphill, carrying weights. Sweating. Eyes closed, his face somewhere between heaven and earth.

I was regaining my breath.