Page 11 of Wear Me Out (The AfterGlow #3)

lilah

Adam set the jar of cherry syrup on the bedside table and took a step back.

His gaze raked over my body spread out over the sheets for him.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—he unlatched his belt buckle with one hand and lazily pulled it through his belt loops.

Normally, I’d ask him to do something like bind my wrists or tie me to the bedpost, but I didn’t have much brat left in me tonight.

Not when I’d been passed around like a plaything and denied time and time again.

Instead, I kept my mouth shut and eyes trained on him.

His fingers passed over each button of his dress shirt, popping them open one at a time, working his way down.

Stripping it off, he revealed his dark chest hair that now had a spray of silver peppered throughout.

God, that was sexy. When his happy trail started greying, I was going to be fucking feral.

“Are you being slow as sin on purpose?” I asked, immediately regretting the words.

He turned his head to the side and lowered his eyebrows. “Was that a complaint, pet?”

Me and my bratty fucking mouth.

I batted my eyelashes at him. “Of course not.”

“Sounded like one to me. Perhaps I should put my shirt back on? Restart the process?” he asked.

Any more delay and I was going to implode. “Please don’t, boss. I need you.”

He crossed his arms and waited. “A little more begging should do the trick.”

I sniffled. “I’ve been craving you all night. I’m just impatient. I promise to be good from now on. Please keep going.”

“Much better.” He resumed undressing, unzipping his slacks and pushing them off his hips. They fell to the floor and revealed his black boxer briefs. He was hard again behind the fabric—of that, I had no doubt. When someone was as big as Adam, it was hard to hide.

When he finally slipped his thumbs inside the waistband and pulled them down, his cock sprang free. The inside of his underwear was a mess. Cum painted the dark material, some still leaking from his tip. I licked my lips, dying to get a hold of him—to get him inside me.

“Eager for me?” he asked, resting one knee on the bed while he cracked open the jar of macerated cherries.

My pussy pulsed in anticipation. “You have no idea.”

He chuckled—a dark and low sound that went straight to my heart. I loved his laugh.

“Ready, pet?”

I nodded and stretched across the bed, elevating my arms and letting my legs drop open even further.

Every single part of me was exposed to him.

No shame, no hiding. Naked together in our room was all I ever wanted to be.

Nights like this only increased my admiration of him.

His control, his strength, his ability to put me in my place when I needed it. He was perfect, and he was mine.

Settling beside me on the bed, he tipped the jar of dark red syrup over my chest and let it flow in a steady stream without saying a word. I shivered as the chilled juice made contact with my skin. Tiny goosebumps formed on my breasts, then extended out and over my limbs.

He shifted the container down over my belly, travelling it down one leg and up the other.

He brought it back to the other side of my chest, up one arm, and down the next, ending at the hollows of my collar bones.

The icy cold of the fluid mixed with the heat radiating off my body left my chest heaving and my pulse pounding.

“Look at you.” His voice purred like tires on gravel. “An actual sweet fucking treat for me. Be a good slut and lay still while I eat you up.”

I closed my eyes and waited for him to begin. “Yes, boss.”

He started at my ankle, kissing the delicate skin there, lapping up the cherry syrup.

Using his tongue, he dragged a path up my leg to the inside of my thigh where the sticky liquid had dripped down, cleaning up the mess he’d made.

His lips ghosted over my pussy, and I automatically lifted my hips, silently begging for something more.

“Not yet. Be a good girl and maybe I’ll suck you where you need.”

I moaned at the words, but did my best to stay still. If I waited a little longer, and did as he asked, I’d be rewarded.

He shifted to my other leg, this time licking a path from the top of my thigh down my shin.

Strong hands gripped my foot and lifted my leg into the air.

I allowed my eyes to flutter open just in time to watch him gaze at my calf like a hungry wolf before diving in to lap up the remaining syrup there.

His wide, flat tongue teased me in the worst way.

There was only one place I wanted it right now, and my leg was not it.

“Something to say?” he asked, pausing mid-lick and focusing on my gaze.

I shook my head, not trusting myself with words. If I opened my mouth, I would say something obnoxious, which wouldn’t earn me any points.

“Nothing?” he asked, shifting the position of his body to rest between my legs. He bent over me, lapping at the sticky liquid that’d collected in my belly button, then dragged his tongue up my stomach to my breasts.

“No,” I breathed, letting my head fall to the side as he took one of my nipples into his mouth.

He bit down and I cried out, still not daring to reach out and grasp his head to force it further onto my tit, or clench my thighs around his waist. Stillness was what he ordered, so it was what I would give.

Sucking at my nipple, he pulled more of my breast into his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue, teasing it with a flick. He popped off and ran one finger through the syrup on the tit he hadn’t yet cleaned off and held it up. The soft lamplight of the room reflected off the dark nectar.

“Suck,” he ordered, holding his finger at the entrance to my mouth.

I opened eagerly for him and pulled in his finger, running my tongue along it and circling it over and over again. So badly, I wished it were his cock. But I would take what he gave me.

“You do that so well, pretty girl,” he praised. “I bet your slutty mouth wishes it was my dick, though, doesn’t it? ”

I mumbled my agreement around his finger before he withdrew it from my lips.

“I still need to finish my dessert before that can happen,” he groaned, shifting his legs to either side of my hips so he could hover over my stomach and lick the syrup off both of my arms.

I quivered as his hot breath tickled the soft underside of my triceps. His dick bobbed over my chest, which still had trails of cherry syrup running down it and onto the bed. Seeing him there, so close to my breasts, sent a fresh wave of arousal through my core.

“Can I have another taste?” I asked.

Sitting back on his heels, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. One eyebrow shot up as he angled his dick down toward my chest and ran it through the remaining cherry syrup pooled between my breasts.

“Open up,” he demanded, leaning over my head and bracing himself with one arm. “Suck it all off with that perfectly practiced dirty mouth of yours.”

The way he spoke to me always got my engine going, and I couldn’t help but preen at the praise and degradation.

I lifted my head and opened wide while he shoved his thick cock down my throat.

Salt burst on my tongue alongside the sweet sugar and tart juice of the cherry syrup.

The myriad of flavours filled my senses as he rocked his hips back and forth, forcing me to take him as deep as he wanted.

“Fucking hell, you feel good. Why did I wait all night to have you all to myself?” he groaned, bucking his cock into my mouth at a faster pace.

I gagged on him, letting the drool run down the sides of my mouth, pulling in a breath of air through my nose when I could manage. The tang of the cherries and spark of his salt had faded, leaving me with the familiar taste of his skin. He bucked hard and I gagged again.

“Pet, fuck,” he rasped, pulling himself from me. He slapped his cock down between my tits.

Gasping down a breath, followed by another, I pushed my breasts together around his dick. “Give me that necklace you promised, boss.”