Page 29 of Slick & Spooky
How badlyhewants to be good forme.
Big, powerful Knox Everett is a lot of things. Rough and brutal. Stoic to a fault. The kind of man who doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter, doesn’t ask for help. But he’s also a man who can hand over control. Not because he’s weak. Not because he’s lost. But because, with me, he finally doesn’t have to perform.
Maybe that’s what makes it real. Not the surrender, but who he’s surrendering to.
Leaning in I let my lips brush the head of his cock, and watch his eyes flutter. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”
He exhales, “You’ve got your dad’s spine, Pledge.”
I pull off, eyes narrowing as I glare up at him. “Don’t talk about my dad while your dick’s in my mouth.”
He laughs and the vibrations of it that rock through me only make me hungrier.
“If I’m giving you time…” I flick my tongue slowly along his slit, “I want what’s mine when the waiting’s over.”
“Yeah?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I say. “You’re planning the date. I’m picking the place. And I’m posting the first thirst trap of us together.”
His laugh bounces around the room.
“So we have a deal?” I ask.
“I can’t promise beyond that, but yes… we have a deal.”
That’s all I need. I sink back down, swallowing him whole until my nose brushes the soft hair at his base. All of him overtakes my senses. It’s all musk and sweat and something unmistakably his. The taste of him is thick as pre-cum leaks from his slit and dances across my taste buds.
He twitches on my tongue, breath catching as I draw back and flick my tongue along the underside of his shaft before taking him in again. He fists the sheets, knuckles white, hips twitching like he’s trying not to move. Not to take over. Not to ruin the rhythm I’m setting. But he won’t. Not this time. This is mine to give.
Humming around him, I let the low thrum ripple through his cock, sending the sensation spiraling up into his body.
His thighs tense. His abs flex. His hand reaches for my hair but hovers, unsure.
I glance up at him without lifting my mouth. Eyes locked, lips stretched around him. When he sees the look I give him, so full of control and intent, he drops his hand back to the bed and lets me finish what I started.
The pace I set is merciless, riding his cock with purpose, letting the tip batter the back of my throat over and over. I don’t stop until the first spurt hits my tongue. By the time he floods my mouth, I’m already drunk on him. I swallow it all, chasing every last drop as I work his softening cock.
“Don’t spit on me again,” he says, voice hoarse above me.
I glance up, tongue out, clean.
“No need to worry.”
He glances down at my cock, still straining in the pouch of my jock.
“Do you need me to…?”
“No,” I say, cutting him off with a smirk. “I got what I needed.”
I give him one last slow once-over before sliding out of bed. He sinks deeper into the pillows, chest rising and falling like he’s been gutted.
I wipe my mouth, rake my fingers through my hair, and scan the floor. I find one of his shirts. Wrinkled and reeking. I pull it on before grabbing a pair of his gym shorts to step into them, the elastic snapping against my hips.
“I’ll need those back,” he mutters.
“Should’ve thought of that before you tore up the ones I came in.”
Knox lets out a low laugh, one part exasperation, one part disbelief. He drags a hand over his face like he’s not sure if he wants to kiss me or kill me.