Page 92 of Stolen Harmony

I hummed around him, loving the taste, the weight, the sheerchallengeof it. I worked my way down, inch by inch, sliding him deeper, sucking, letting my tongue trace every ridge, every vein. I pulled off, gasping for breath, spit glistening on my lips.

“God, you’re so fucking big,” I breathed, stroking him, letting him see how much I loved it. “I want all of it. Want to swallow you down.”

He growled, hand finding my hair, guiding me, not forcing but letting me know what he wanted. “You can take it, can’t you? My good boy.”

“Your best boy,” I promised, then went down again, mouth stretched wide, working my way deeper, relaxing my throat, breathing through my nose.

The head hit the back of my throat and I gagged, spit running down my chin, but I didn’t stop. I let myself drool over him, coating him, making it slick. He shuddered, hips jerking, and I held him in place, determined to take as much as I could.

He started to lose his composure, every breath turning to a moan, every muscle in his legs and abs flexing as I swallowed him deeper. I looked up at him, eyes watering, wanting him to see what he was doing to me.

“Jesus Christ, Rowan,” he gasped, “You look so good like that. Taking daddy’s cock. Fuck.”

I pulled off with a gasp, a long strand of spit connecting my lips to his cock. I jacked him with both hands, loving the way his length dwarfed my grip, then leaned in, licking the head, sucking on it, flicking my tongue over the slit, tasting every drop of precome he gave me.

“Tell me you love it,” he demanded, voice rough and low, one hand tight in my hair.

“I love it, daddy,” I moaned, licking down the shaft, sucking his balls into my mouth, tonguing the sensitive skin, dragging my teeth over him. “Love how big you are. Love how you fill my mouth. No one else could ever do this to me.”

He shuddered, thighs quivering, abs flexing. “You’re fucking filthy,” he said, but there was nothing but awe and pride in his voice. “You want daddy to fuck your throat?”

“Yes. Please. Use me. Want to choke on you.”

He didn’t need more encouragement. He guided my mouth back down, slow at first, letting me adjust, pushing a little deeper each time. I let him control the rhythm, let him use me, spit and precome running down my chin, my chest.

He started to fuck my mouth, shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, hitting the back of my throat, making me gag and drool and moan around him. I relaxed, let my throat open, let myself be used, hands gripping his thighs for leverage.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he groaned. “You take it so good. My good boy. My perfect little cocksucker.”

I moaned around him, the praise going straight to my cock, making me rut against the bed, desperate for friction. The world was reduced to the weight of him in my mouth, the rough velvet of his voice, and the way my body trembled with every filthy word.

Suddenly, Elias pulled me off him, hands strong but careful in my hair. I blinked up, breathless, spit slick on my chin, wondering if I’d done something wrong. But his eyes were wild, dark with a hunger I’d never seen before—a hunger to take, to give, to make me fall apart the way I’d just made him.

He surged up, flipping me onto my back in one smooth motion, hands everywhere—gripping, exploring, claiming. I shivered, letting him manhandle me, letting myself be taken, worshipped, undone.

“Your turn,” he growled, voice so low it vibrated through me. “Let me take care of you, baby. Let me see you come apart for daddy.”

My breath hitched as he slid down my body, mouth hot on my throat, biting at my pulse point, then sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands slid under my thighs, spreading me wide, pulling me closer until I was pinned beneath him, bare except for my underwear, cock straining, leaking, desperate for his touch.

He bent, nuzzling into my neck, breathing me in, teeth scraping over my skin. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmured, voice almost reverent. “Could get drunk on you.”

I arched into him, hands fisting in his hair, gasping as he mouthed down my chest, biting at my nipples, sucking and licking until they ached, every nerve ending lit up. “Fuck, Elias—more, please, more?—”

He grinned against my skin, wicked and soft all at once,then kissed his way lower, dragging his tongue along the ridge of my abs, dipping into my navel, making me shudder. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my briefs and glanced up for permission.

“Take them off,” I panted, hips already lifting, offering myself up. “Want you to see me. Want you to touch me.”

He peeled them down, slow at first, then fast, exposing me, bare and aching, cock flushed dark and slick with precome. He tossed my underwear aside and knelt between my legs, just staring for a moment, drinking in every inch of me.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, hands sliding up my thighs, over my hips, cupping my ass, squeezing. He leaned down, pressing his face into my pits, inhaling deep, groaning like it was the best thing he’d ever smelled.

“You like that?” I teased, breath coming fast. “Like my pits, daddy?”

He growled, licking a stripe up the sensitive skin, biting down, marking me. The sensation was filthy, electric—his tongue hot, his stubble scratching, his hands never still.

“Love it,” he admitted, voice raw. “Could stay here all fucking night.”

He moved lower, mouth finding the crease where thigh met hip, licking, biting, then moving to my cock. He stared at it for a beat, awe and hunger fighting for dominance in his eyes.