Page 71 of The Colour of Revenge

My hips buck forward, and she pulls back, mischief playing in her eyes.

“Be a good boy and stay still or I won't let you come.”

Fuck. Me.

My eyes roll into the back of my head at her words, and I let out a long groan.

She’s a little hesitant as she wraps her lips around the engorged head, sucking in gently with her cheeks. She stays near the tip to start with, letting her mouth accommodate to the stretch before she starts sliding her mouth further down the length.

Taking me all the way to the back of her throat, she gags around the tip which has my hips jolting up once more.

She pulls her mouth off me with an audible pop.

“What did I say about staying still?”

“I’m sorry! It won’t happen again,” I plead, desperate for her to continue. I will combust if she stops this delicious torture.

“It better not.”

She returns to her earlier movements, bobbing up and down on my cock like she was made to be there. The feel of her warm, wet mouth has my balls tightening, urging me ever closer to the precipice of what promises to be an electrifying orgasm.

“Carina?” Her eyes flick up to mine as she continues her motions. “Baby, I’m going to come.” The words come out on a strangled gasp as a warning.

She doesn’t move, instead doubling down on her efforts and sucking me harder. One of her hands finds my balls and I explode. My cum shoots down her throat and she swallows it all greedily.

My head falls back onto the pillow, my body drained dry as she releases me and curls herself back into my chest.

I grip her chin, tilting her face to mine so I can plant a gentle kiss to her lips before letting her go.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper.

My eyes drift closed again, my body relaxed and content to just exist with her next to me. My mind gravitates to how much she trusts me, how she’s let me in despite everything. I’ll make damn sure I earn that trust she’s given me.

17

Let’s Make Him Pay

Hypothetical Question: If you were legally required to have a weird hobby, what would you pick?

Carina

Thescreenofmyphone glows in the darkness of my apartment, casting shadows across my face as I read Nate’s latest hypothetical. These daily exchanges have become my anchor, though I'd never admit how much I look forward to them.

Daddy Death:If you could only eat one takeaway for the rest of your life, what cuisine would you pick?

Queen Carina:Is this hypothetical or should I give it real thought?

My fingers hover over the screen, waiting. Three dots appear immediately—he must have been waiting too. The thought makes something warm unfurl in my chest.

Daddy Death:I want a real answer.

Queen Carina:Chinese. There are so many options to pick from I don’t think I’d ever get bored.

Daddy Death:Perfect answer. Open up. I’m outside.

My head snaps up from my phone just as the doorbell chimes.

I scramble to the door, my socked feet sliding slightly on the hardwood. When I wrench it open, I find Nate standing on my doorstep, a takeaway bag in hand and an annoyingly confident grin on his face.