Page 52

ADRIAN

F uck. Me. It was the first thought to enter my mind as I stared down at the pair of tits that were perfectly level with my cock.

And pressed so close together in that dress of hers I wasn’t certain anything else could fit.

But I sure as hell wanted to try. I wanted to watch the tip disappear between two globes of tan flesh.

A little spit hocked on my palms and I could make that happen. A little bit of force and I could…

“Oh, fuck!” I grunted the moment the chill of the air on my balls met the warm, wet heat of her tonsils.

My little lamb was on her knees in front of me, her curls piled high on her head with the help of a hair tie she’d pulled from god only knows where.

Her cheeks suctioned in and streaked with tears, and her knuckles white as her mouth bobbed up and down on my cock.

Her grip on the base was probably tighter than it should be, tighter than was good for me or my circulation, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

Not with how fucking good it felt. And it felt fucking good . She could twist it off for all I cared, as long as she didn’t stop what she was doing. And what she was doing was giving me the type of blow job that could make a grown man weak in the knees. Could and was .

Because I had no doubt that if it weren’t for the tensile strength of the leather in this belt currently bearing the full weight of my body, I’d be a puddle on the floor. My abdominal muscles clenched and my spine nursed straight.

This woman’s mouth was more powerful than any aspirator in any operating room I’d ever seen.

More accurate too. She didn’t need me to guide her—something I couldn’t do anyway with my arms looped above my head.

She didn’t need me to tell her when to speed up or slow down either.

She read my body, the way I used to be able to read hers.

Adjusting her rhythm each time I sucked in a sharp breath or groaned in a way she liked.

Her palm working in tandem as she fluctuated between long, languid strokes and quick jerks of her wrist.

I wanted to watch her. To strain my neck muscles and lean forward so that I could see when her nostrils flared on a staggered breath, when she swallowed down the saliva pooling in her mouth and dripping down her chin, when she went too deep and had to pull away to keep herself from gagging.

But my head had a mind of its own. Tipping back and knocking on the door as my eyes rolled up towards Heaven .

It was the closest a guy like me would ever get to those pearly gates, and I had to sin in order to do it. Fuck if that wasn’t irony for ya.

Good thing I didn’t believe in that shit.

Or I might have felt the tiniest bit guilty when Marisela drew her mouth almost back until the only thing wet was the tip.

Circled her tongue around me once, twice, before relaxing her esophagus enough to choke me down.

I groaned, much louder than I should, and clenched my ass cheeks to keep from coming.

A gentleman would have finished right there, balls-deep in her throat, where she couldn’t taste it. He would have ended it quick, allowed his girl to tap out and stop putting so much pressure on her knees. He would have let her know what a good job she was doing being his perfect little slut.

I was no gentleman. Even if Marisela was everything a lady should be.

I was also well-acquainted with edging myself, which meant I could draw this out for hours if I wanted to.

And part of me did want to, while another part wanted this woman’s face covered in so much cum she’d have trouble opening her eyes without feeling the burn of her lashes.

At least that’s what I thought before she choked me down again, like some sword swallower in a sideshow, her finger creeping its way towards my ass. Then, the next thing I knew, she was massaging my prostate at the same time she milked my cock dry.

My head was spinning, dizzy and detached, as I tried to blink myself back to consciousness. Which was no easy feat after some she-devil in a powder-pink dress syphoned your soul from your body through the tip of your cock.

Marisela grinned at me with pouty lips—much poutier after all the friction—while dabbing at the side of her mouth with a manicured hand.

There was no reason for it other than dramatics, seeing as my little lamb hadn’t spilled a drop.

But who was I to call her out with the one-woman show she put on for my benefit?

“Just because I’ve never been fucked, it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fuck,” she whispered against my ear, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to reach it. “Watching porn used to be one of my favorite pastimes.”

I lifted a curious brow, while wishing like hell I knew a tech guy I trusted enough to pull up her browser history. “Used to be?”

Her smirk dropped, tugging into a frown before settling on neutral. “Don’t see much of a point anymore.” She shrugged as she shoved me aside, grabbed the door handle, and yanked it open. Forcing me to shuffle forward a few steps to give her space to slip through.

I wanted to follow her, to watch and see if Tate could smell my cum on her breath.

If he cared enough to notice the bruises on her knees or how flushed her cheeks were.

But I couldn’t do any of that until I found the energy to unhook my arms and tug up my pants.

And I was still looking for it… The energy to move and the strength to stand upright.