Page 32 of Sacrificing Zoriah

“Touch yourself, mi amor. Come with me,” he says. I sigh softly and let my hand wander until I gently stroke across my already swollen clit. He places his hand on the wall to lean into me as he strokes himself. Fuck, he is so close. Would he let me lead? Explore? God, I just want to feel him. I want to feel how hard he is and know he could destroy me, but he chooses not to.

I moan softly and look up at him. “God, Roman,” I whine.

“What is it, Riah? Tell me,” he says, slowly pumping his cock. Veins bulge along the length of his dick, and he groans when I lay one hand on his thigh. “Speak, or I stop.”

“I want to make you feel good. I’m not ready for sex,” I admit quietly, dropping my gaze. He grabs my chin and makes me look up at him.

“This is your show, my love. What do you want?” he asks gently.

“I want to make you come, Roman. Hand or mouth. I’m not ready for anything more than that,” I say.

“Do you want to lead or me?”

“Both. But I want to start,” I say.

“And when I lead?”

“I want you to fucking destroy me no matter how hard I fight you,” I say bluntly. “No safe word. No way out. I trust you not to hurt me, so I trust you won’t do more than the limit I set. Right now, oral is my limit.”

“I won’t be nice, Zoriah,” he says simply.

“I don’t want nice. I want brutal, Roman. What do you want?”

“I want you to fight me, but I want you to want to lose,” he says. “But I also want you to start and tell me when you want me to take over.”

“Okay,” I smile.

I tentatively bring my hands to his cock, and we both relax when I grip the base and let him slip through my grasp. The head of his cock is easily slipping through my hand, and I go faster. “Talk me through how you like things,” I say. “I want to know you.”

“Tighten your grip some,” he says. Roman cautiously adjusts so that he can gently grab the back of my neck with one hand. His other is on my shoulder. I tighten my grip, and he groans softly. “Good girl. Just like that. Focus on the head. It has most of the nerve endings.”

“God, you’re so big,” I say softly. I lick my lips in anticipation, and he gently nudges me toward his cock. I gently collect the bead of precome with my tongue as I lick across the head of his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” Roman sighs.

“You taste sweet,” I say happily as I look up at him. “Like Huxley.”

“Then enjoy yourself.” He smiles wickedly. I smile innocently back up at him before dragging a surprised gasp out of him when I take his cock straight to the back of my throat. I let my tongueslide along the backside of his cock, and he growls as I gently suck. I pull him out of my mouth, and he grunts disapprovingly.

“That okay?” I ask with a grin.

“Be careful, mi amor. I’ll get my turn soon enough,” he says, tangling his fingers in my hair.

“Maybe,” I say sweetly. I take him back into my mouth and just suck on the head of his cock as I swirl my tongue around the tip. I’ve read so much smut that I feel as though I have a good idea of how to blow his mind. I just haven’t ever had the chance to practice. I know smut isn’t always realistic with arm-sized cocks and a cunt that can magically fit it all, but the premise is all the same. Men want to be worshipped just as much as women do, and I fucking worship Roman. When he speaks Spanish, even just calling me his love, I want him to fucking ravage me at the same time. He rarely speaks Spanish unless he is around his parents, but even then, it’s in little bits occasionally.

Roman’s parents were raised in Columbia, but came here when they were teens. They busted their asses to get where they are. They both escaped the cartel, so they changed their names and started over when they became citizens of the United States. I don’t know much about their lives beyond that, but I know his mom understands what I went through. When Roman explained, she cried. Those tears were not just out of sympathy, but an understanding of what was taken from me. Ever since, she has been attentive to me and is always checking in.

I slowly stroke and suck his cock, pulling small moans from him. I reach a point where all I want is for him to break and take mythroat by force. I battle with it for a minute before understanding that I have to speak up and tell him what I want. He isn’t going to take over without knowing that is what I want. That is the difference between consent and rape.

I pull back and put my hands on his thighs. I smile softly and just take a second to look at him. I am still wanting him to just read my mind and do it, but I know he won’t, at least not the first time he won’t.

“Tell me what you want, Riah,” he says softly.

“I want you to take over,” I say quietly. I go to drop my head when shame sweeps in, but he lifts my chin.

“Own it, Zoriah. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he says softly. “Say what you mean and be specific.”

“I want you to take me as hard as you want… whenever you want. I want you to use me to release stress instead of jerking off in the shower… I am not ready to be touched like that right now, and I only want you to use me orally, but I don’t want nice and sweet. No one has ever been nice and sweet with me,” I say. “No safe word. No way out. I trust you with my life, and I want you to feel good. You feeling good makes me happy, and I am desperate to feel happy.”

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