Page 18 of Darling
The thing is, I hear shit like this a lot. It’s sort of in the job description, but it hits different coming from him. It really does. In his sincere tone, in his accent, from this buttoned-up image he presents to the world. To hear him lose it a little over me, it’s fucking hot. He strokes his finger over my hole a few times, then circles it gently.
“Did you get fucked in it today? Is that why it’s a little red and stretched out, darling?”
I’m shocked out of my aroused stupor. I crane my neck backto look at him. “Um… I…”
He looks up at me, pins me there with his stare. “Tell me how he fucked you?”
My brain is calculating fast, showing me all sorts of possibilities and outcomes, trying to determine the best way to play this. I’m good at this, figuring out quickly what might turn a guy on (or off), play off it, carry it through to the end of the scene. I figured out the daddy thing real quick because, like I say, I’m good at this. But this isn’t a scene. I don’t want it to be. But it occurs to me that maybe he does.
“Hard,” I tell him. “He fucked me rough and hard.”
He licks his lip and looks at my hole, then strokes his finger over it again. “Yes, I can see that.”
My eyes flutter closed.
“And was he big? Too big for this little hole?”
“Not as big as you, daddy.”
He says nothing, and I think I’ve fucked it up until his voice, low and thick with command says: “Put your foot up here and show it to me.” He means the low table in front of me. As I do this, I hear the sound of him unbuttoning his pants, the rustle of fabric, and then he’s ghosting a breath over my hole. I curl my fingers around my own dick just as I feel the heat of his mouth on my fluttering opening, as he brings his mouth down and flicks his tongue over me there.
“Shit,” I manage, trying to keep my balance, one foot perched on the table. As I let go of my dick to stabilise myself, he reaches between my legs and pulls my dick back to meet his mouth, sucking and licking the length of me from head to balls to hole. I feel my eyes roll back in my skull from how incredible it feels. I mean, I like getting my ass eaten—who doesn’t—but knowing it’s him back there. Fucking hell. I’m so turned on.
“I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” he says, mouth makingout with my asshole.
“What? Please I n—?” I begin to protest before he pushes his tongue inside me and silences me.
“I want you to be desperate for me, desperate for a cock inside you,” he says against my ass, fingers fondling my balls. “And I don’t think you are, are you? This slutty little hole had a dick inside it just a few hours ago.”
“But…”
“But I will pleasure you here. Until I feel this perfect little hole clenching around my tongue while you come.”
“Holy shit, Christian,” I laugh, tipping forward to give him more access to my hole. How is it possible he talks like this? What a pleasant fucking surprise. He sucks and teases and fucks into me with his mouth as I go back to jerking myself off, spitting in my hand to make the movement easier. He likes this. A lot. The noises, the sheer fucking pleasure he’s taking from it, are as much of a turn-on as everything else, and it takes me less time than it usually does to feel my balls draw up and my body tense stiff. “I’m gonna… fuck, you’re gonna make me…” I gasp, climax juddering towards the edge. He responds by going harder at it, spearing his tongue into my ass with purpose as I let go, shooting all over the table. My legs tremble, working to stay upright, while he sucks at my hole in soft little pulls.
Lowering my foot, I turn to look at him, and I can almost feel my dick getting hard all over again. He looks wrecked, mouth ruined, and dark eyes glittering with arousal, hair a mess. He’s so fucking hot. Guys like him are most likely the reason guys my own age do nothing for me. Well, that and the emotional immaturity. Christian is the dictionary definition of how a hot older guy should present. I’m weak for it. Slutty and weak, and I just want to jump on his dick and ride him until the sun comes up. Speaking of his dick, it’s glistening from his own cum, coatedby an orgasm he had while eating me out. I go to my knees and give him a look of intent. He sits back, eyes still dark with desire. Then I clean his dick with my mouth.
When I’m done, he reaches out and smooths a section of my hair back from my forehead.
“You’re going to absolutely ruin me, aren’t you?” he says in a low, fucked-out voice.
Shrugging one shoulder, I smile and say, “I mean, yeah, if you want me to.”
Seven
Christian
On Thursday after lunch, Seema and I have our usual daily briefing. Seema is my cross-departmental aide, thoughtechnicallyshe works for the CIA. Her job description says she works for me, but I’m not a complete idiot, and neither is the American federal government. They can’t have a foreign diplomat working in the country and not have eyes and ears on what they do while they’re here. I’m nearly certain they don’t follow me around outside of office hours, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they did.
I’d meant what I’d told Asher on Saturday night—I don’t care as much about my extra-curricular activities getting in the way as I used to. They’d still whisper about me in the walls of Whitehall, but now I wouldn’t be there to overhear it. Leo is my main concern these days. He is what I worry about. What he’d think of me if he knew where my sexual proclivities lay since his mother died. There is a conversation to be had, and soon, not necessarily because of Asher, but because I’ve been lying to him for long enough.
“Sir, was there anything else?” Seema asks in a tone that suggests it’s the second time she’s asked.
“Um, no, no that’s all.”
She’s at the door when the thought enters my head. Re-enters, to be more accurate, because I’ve thought about it frequently this past week. “Actually, Seema, there is one thing.” She turns back, tablet clutched to her chest and a warm, patient smile on her face. “What do you know about a cult called ‘HHM’? Is that an…organisation you’re familiar with?”
A flicker of surprise crosses her face, but she masks it almost immediately as she comes back towards my desk.