Page 25

“Fuck.” That’s not a no and it’s also not a yes. It’s uncertainty. Maybe not to this, but where does this end and our real lives start? Is this a real life that we’re living? If Kael had a choice in the real world, would she ever choose me?

She seems to answer that for herself as she guides me straight to her face.

She’s not shy, but takes the head of my cock straight into her mouth, rolling her tongue over it as she sucks me.

She’s deliberately loud, popping me out of her mouth with a wet sound and looking up at me with a satisfied smirk that makes my balls draw up and the base of my spine tingle.

Yeah. Not happening. I’m not going to come in her mouth and certainly not after two point six seconds.

She tests my resolve by shoving my hand down to the base and taking as much of me in her mouth as she can.

She takes a lot. All the way to my fingers, which means that I’m dangerously close to hitting the back of her throat.

She pulls back and pushes forward, forcing even more of me in.

This time, she does it so roughly that she gags, but she keeps going, swallowing around me, and nearly giving me a heart attack.

“Mmm,” she groans over and again as she sucks me hard. Just that sound of satisfied pleasure, like I’m the best thing she’s ever tasted.

She goes way too hard, sucking me in a dirty, frenzied way that nearly knocks me right over, and then she pulls back, teasing and gentle, swirling her tongue over my tip the same way she should have led with.

It’s worse now, and by worse, I mean better.

But it’s getting harder to keep myself from ramming into her mouth and coming down her throat in a burst of lost control.

It’s not just a few tingles when she finds that sensitive spot on the underside of my head or when she does wicked things like tracing the slit before slowly gliding me along her tongue, straight to the back of her throat again.

She bats my hand away, taking just about all of me this time. She swallows so she doesn’t gag, repeating the motion while I stay at the back of her throat. I pull out a little, but she grabs my ass, digging her nails in through my pants, and tugs me closer.

All I can do is hover my hands near her hair, afraid that if I wrap my fingers in the strands, I’ll pull to hard or press too hard or do something too hard.

She sucks me over and over again, and then pulls back completely, but keeps her mouth open for a few seconds.

Drool glistens at the corners of her lips.

She gathers it up with her tongue, grasps my cock with her hand and jacks me like she instructed me to do.

I never did it, so she does it for me, coating her hand in my wetness before looking up at me and licking one of her fingers, one by fucking one.

My balls just about explode. I nearly come all over the place right that instant. I never imagined anything so innocent could be so filthy.

“Mmm,” she moans again, sliding the last finger out of her mouth, wetter than it was before. “I’m an artist, not a wordsmith, so you’ll have to help me here. What’s a word that means deliciously decadent, but also with dick in it?”

Yeah right. She’s asking me for this when my brain is pretty much a pile of mush?

“Dickadent. That’s it. Your dick is dickadent.

Ten out of ten. Would definitely recommend and eat here again.

” She laughs. Hard. Not at me, and I’m so captivated by watching her do it that I could come from that too.

Anything, apparently, where she’s concerned.

“You should see your face. I’m so sorry, Dray. ”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you then?” Her coy expression lets me know exactly what’s coming and I can’t get my hand over her mouth to stop her. “Daddy?”

“If you call me daddy , ever, I will gag you with my cock so hard that you’ll…”

“What? You’ll what?”

She’s having entirely too much fun with this. “Never mind. I won’t gag you at all. I’ll gag you so hard that I won’t gag you at all. I’ll leave you here suffering.”

“And yourself too.”

“Nah. I’ll go home and rub one out and I’ll be good to go.

No suffering artist over here.” That’s a damn lie.

No matter how many times I’ve fantasized about her or okay, rubbed a few out while wishing I was with her—and I know how fucked up that is and how bad it sounds—it’s been completely unsatisfying.

It’s hot that she narrows her eyes at me, knowing that I’m completely full of bullshit.

“Mmhmm. I’m sure that whatever you were giving yourself was as good as this.” She grasps my cock and slides her lips over my head, sucking me in so enthusiastically that my cock gets a firsthand acquaintance with a burst of pain.

I don’t have those kinks, or at least I didn’t think I did, but holy shit . I’m open to changing my mind. She goes about giving me the best blowjob of my life. The best hand job too, as she jacks the base of my cock while still taking me to the back of her throat.

She works me hard before slipping her other hand off my ass and grabbing my balls. She squeezes just right, although every way she could possibly touch them at this point would be just right. She keeps doing it until my head falls back, I make animal grunts, until I’m so damn finished .

The absolute last straw is feeling Kael shift and opening my eyes just long enough to see her rub her thighs together. I realize just how turned on she is, how badly she wants to touch herself, what sucking my cock is doing to her .

“Kael…” I grip her face, trying not to be rough about it, but also trying to get her to stop. “I’m going to come.”

In about three seconds.

I’m desperate to get her face away from me, although coating her in my seed from head to fucking foot is just about the hottest thing that’s ever popped into my brain.

It’s far sexier as a fantasy. Real life tends to make things look a little less glamorous.

Even if she was hot for it and it was just as amazing when it happened as it was in my head, there’s no way I can do that to her.

I can’t go from protesting that this isn’t a good idea to making the absolute filthiest experience the starring feature in my next ten years’ spank bank material.

She immediately grasps my thighs and hangs on hard.

She’s more than toned from working out and all that training.

She’s strong and her grasp is like iron.

There’s zero chance of getting her to stop, which means zero chance of not coming in her mouth.

It’s a pretty clear way of telling me that this is what she wants.

The climax rips through me, my mind tearing apart, the bottom of everything just falling out from underneath of me.

The floor is gone and the ceiling, all the walls.

The world and all my reasons I had for not doing this.

I’ve never felt pleasure like this. Pleasure so close to oblivion and rapture .

Bliss so deep that it permeates my whole being.

Kael doesn’t stop until I have nothing left to give. Until I sag against her, setting my hand tenderly on her head, breathing like an injured animal. She releases my cock and tucks me tenderly back into my pants. She does up the zipper and pats my leg.

“Thank you. That was nice.”

I can’t imagine my face right now. Hers is absolutely angelic. “Thank you?” I sputter. “It’s me who should be thanking you!”

She stands up, grasping my hand to steady me before she walks back to the couch, picks up her brush, and gets settled with the canvas. Just like the world didn’t monumentally just shift.

I must have a stupefied expression of a lifetime going on because she blinks innocently at me. “Baby steps, Dray. That’s what we need.”

“Not Dray. Please .”

She winks. “Okay, daddy it is.” I growl low in my throat, pulling a face. “Ooh,” she squeals. “That’s it!” She literally kicks her feet in excitement. “Keep the growly snarl thing going, pick up the pomegranate, and let’s get back to work.”

“Kael.”

She ignores my flat tone.

“Kael.”

She keeps her head bent over the painting that she’s not even working on.

“Kael!”

Her head snaps up. “Yes, Daddy Dravin?”

I sigh and grab the damn fruit. It’s half wrecked, but maybe that’s exactly the look Kael was going for.

Cross my fucking heart, I can’t even believe that this is real and we’re doing this.

Continuing to paint as though nothing happened, or as though this vibe— me , in my ruined as hell, fucked up, confused, still half-drunk with pleasure state—is exactly the look that needed to be captured to make the painting what she wanted.

You, you dumb shit. You’re what she wants and she’s what you want, so why are you fighting it so hard? Try letting go for a minute and just trusting her. Trust your fucking self.

“Kael?”

“Yes?” She’s gone back to studying her canvas, and this time she’s painting, her whole attention fixed back on her work, but I know she’s not unaffected. Not at all.

I was uncomfortable with the idea of being painted. I’m still not even entirely sure why I agreed to it or how I got here, but the most blindsiding bit is the fact that in this moment, I’m pretty damn near close to being her muse.

I never saw it coming. All of my extensive training is useless when it comes to resisting this woman. I haven’t ever gone into something blind and relied on faith alone, because that seems like the best way to get yourself destroyed.

“You’re thinking too loud.” Kael interrupts the silence, saving me from myself. “You can do that on your own time, as you decide what we’re going to do for our first date.”

I don’t bother arguing or even sighing this time. There’s no going back. Everything is different now. I might not know how to move forward, but I’ll have to learn, and fast. Adapt. Adjust. Haven’t I always done that in the past?

Just because I have no precedent for this doesn’t mean that I’m lost, I realize, while trying not to keep my hands from shaking as I hold this stupid fruit in the air.

I can come at this the same way I’ve come at everything in my life.

With complete and utter dedication. There’s a time for running and for defense, but both those times are past.

“Dravin!”

“Sorry.”

I exhale, releasing the pent up shitstorm in my head, focusing on my breathing alone so that I can throw myself into this pose, this painting, and this moment.

As all good, reluctant muses must.