Page 101 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Thirty

Jules

I was sitting on his face.

Oh lord, I was sitting on his face.

“I—” Um, did people do that?

I was going to suffocate him…with my pussy. The thought of which had another hysterical giggle bubbling up inside me—shock and amusement and more shock, which was apparently the theme of that evening.

Shock that I’d made the decision to leap.

Shock that he looked at me like I was precious, that he’d told me I was fucking beautiful, even with my baby pouch and the stretch marks on my belly…and my thighs…and my breasts.

Shock that I was there. Now.

Sitting on his face.

“Cas—”

His hands tightened on my ass and his tongue flicked out.

And shock turned to fire.

His lips worked my clit, the rhythm of his flicking tongue joining in and?—

“Oh God,” I whispered, my hands flying forward, gripping the top of the headboard, fingers digging into the dark wood. “Oh God.”

He groaned, the sound vibrating through my slick pussy.

“ Cas,” I moaned, desire pooling, need ratcheting up as he worked me, as his fingers joined his mouth and tongue, as his teeth showed up to the party mid-celebration. Fuck, that was good. Heat was spiraling through me, pleasure filling every cell, firing along every nerve.

And then he found a spot.

Found the spot.

And my hips ground down, rubbing against the stubble on his jaw, finding that his beard provided the perfect amount of friction.

Needing the roughness. Desperate for his touch, his teeth, his tongue.

I was close. So close. My hips grinding. My hands gripping the headboard?—

But I stopped…

Because suffocation.

I was suffocating my man and?—

Cas tore his mouth from my pussy, lips shining when he asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”

My lungs were working hard, my breaths in rapid puffs of air.

“I’m going to hurt you. Or—” He exhaled and, fuck, that felt good, too, the air puffing against my sensitized clit, making it hard for me to think, to form words.

“Or you’re not going to be able to breathe and I’m going to suffocate you and?—”

“Gorgeous.” His fingers flexed again, tugged me close once more. “When a man wants you to sit on his face, he wants you to sit on his face .”

“I—” A shake of my head. “But?—”

“You like what I’m doing?” he asked, flicking out his tongue, a bare inch between my pussy and his damp beard.

Well, that was easy to answer. I liked it. Liked it better than anything any man had ever done to me. Ever .

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Then sit on my face, sweetheart.”

And then he didn’t give me a chance to say anything else because he’d tugged me down again and this time I wasn’t just sitting on his face, I was sitting on his face.

No, I was riding his face. And he didn’t stop.

And he didn’t get suffocated. Instead, his mouth worked my pussy, my clit.

His fingers slipped back inside, flexing, spreading, sending shivers of pleasure through me.

Pleasure that sparked and grew into a full-blown fire that consumed me.

Then I wasn’t thinking about anything except that impending orgasm, the all-encompassing bliss that was barreling down on me.

And if it felt this good with just his mouth, just his fingers, what was it going to feel like with his cock inside me? Which was a thought that had my orgasm coming closer, fluttering at the edges of my consciousness.

Right there. Right there.

His fingers flexed again.

My pussy convulsed around them.

And Cas groaned again, clearly having felt that, but thankfully, he didn’t stop all that glorious suction and finger action. He kept going, kept taking me closer to that edge.

And then I was there.

Then I was there.

Sparks exploding through my mind, my body going taut, taut …and then limp, my hands relaxing on the headboard, my body slumping as the world’s best orgasm burned through me, pleasure flowing and filling me and making it so I couldn’t think or see or…keep myself upright.

Thankfully, Cas had me, wrapping his arms around me, shifting and rolling us so my back was on the mattress and he was on top of me again.

That was nice.

That was nice enough that as the pleasure ebbed, I was able to feel him.

All of him.

And he was hot and hard and?—

I wanted him inside.

“Honey,” I whispered, hand lifting and cupping his jaw. “Now.”

A shudder through his body, his eyes blazing hot—a forest fire amongst all those pine trees—but he didn’t shove down his sweats and plunge home. Instead, he paused. “You sure, gorgeous? Because I don’t need this. I can wait until?—”

Now I was moving, pushing him to his back, crawling over him. A few precise tugs had his sweats and underwear down his thighs and—holy hell, that was a glorious cock. One that I wrapped my fingers around.

“Fuck ,” he gritted out.

Hearing that , in that tone, and yeah, I might finally understand the power of femininity, the power of my body, the power of giving myself to a man who cared for me, who was kind to me, who meant more to me than any man had meant.

Ever.

And I understood how good it felt to give him something.

I wanted to watch his muscles tighten as I sucked his cock, to see sweat break out on his skin, for it glisten in the overhead light.

Wanted to feel his thighs, the big and strong muscles there, flex against me as I rode him.

Wanted to feel his dick, rock-hard and thick, sliding into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat.

I leaned in.

“You don’t have?—”

His words cut off when I wrapped my lips around the rigid length of his erection.

And then I was giving him something, reveling in the taut muscles, but getting lost in the other things—in his touch and words, his tone and the gentle way he’d weaved his fingers into my hair. Hot and hard was incredible. Hot and hard had my pussy aching and moisture pooling.

But gentle and sweet was better.

Because it was beautiful and told me exactly what I meant to him.

Cas didn’t play games—he had made his feelings clear from the beginning, had told me he liked me and then had showed it with every word and action and?—

The truth slammed into me.

I’d been the one who’d been playing, who’d been messing around, who’d been wishy-washy.

I needed to do better.

And I would.

Starting with giving the man I liked beyond measure the best blow job of his life—which was something, I had to face it, I didn’t exactly have the skills for.

I’d only been with a couple of people before Nate and that experience had consisted mostly of fumbling and bumbling and them blowing their loads after a couple of licks.

Nate had been more confident, more demanding, but he’d been more of the yank at my hair and fuck my mouth until I gagged variety.

Neither was particularly pleasant.

But, luckily for me—and him, I supposed—I read a lot of romance novels. And repeat, I read a lot of dirty romance novels. As thus, I would approach this with enthusiasm and my brainful of fellatio knowledge from my dirty books, and hopefully Cas would like what I did.

Stroking up, I bobbed my head down, flicked out my tongue.

A tight grip.

Plenty of suction.

Taking him as deep as I could.

And Cas liked it, if the curses tumbling out of his mouth, if the sweat sheeting his body, if the way his muscles were flexing and his cock was growing even harder, straining at my lips was any indication.

Because I didn’t get a lot of time down there.

Maybe two minutes. Tops.

Then his hands were under my armpits, and I was beneath him again and he froze?—

“Fuck,” he hissed. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Top drawer,” I whispered, having made a promise to myself after Ethan that I would always have protection on hand.

His hand shook as he jerked open the drawer, pulled out the box I’d never opened.

Then he was tearing the cardboard, ripping one square off from the string of condoms, and using his teeth to open it.

A moment after that, he was rolling it down his cock.

And then he was between my thighs. “Hurry,” I whispered, trembling as he spread my legs.

“Are—”

“ Hurry , Cas.”

Then he was pressing home and—oh my, that was fucking good. He stretched me wide, hit all the spots deep inside me.

“Tight,” he grunted, slowly working himself in, his chest coming over mine, his forearms braced on either side of my head.

My breath caught as he bottomed out. “It’s— ah —been a while.

Not since Ethan—” My words cut off when he reached beneath me, wrapping my leg around his waist, changing the angle and— oh yes, that was somehow even better.

Better enough that my explanation was forgotten, that I stopped thinking, my brain short-circuiting further when he pulled out and slowly slid back in.

And did it again.

And again.

And—

That was when I started talking.

No. That was when I started giving him orders.

“Harder.”

“Faster.”

“ Deeper.”

Thankfully, Cas obliged, and soon, he was pounding into me, stroking deep and hard and fast, and I was flying toward release all over again, flying with a speed that shocked me, with an intensity that was a little scary.

Except, Cas would catch me.

I knew he would.

And…he did.

Just like I caught him when my name rolled off his tongue on a growl and he flew over the edge right behind me.