Page 96 of Pucking the Team
He gripped the base of his polo then dragged it up and over his head before tossing it to one side.
The sight of his wide, hairy chest and taut abdominal muscles had my pussy dampening. He was so damn gorgeous, and I wanted to get up close and personal again with all those acres of hard masculine flesh.
He sat, knees apart, hands curled around the ends of the arms. “You want dessert?”
“Depends what it is. I hate marzipan and clotted cream.”
“What the fuck is clotted cream? Sounds gross.”
I stood. “I’ll take you for afternoon tea in England sometime, you can try it then.”
He held up his index finger and made a ‘come hither’ motion. “That’s for another time, this is now. Come here.”
I walked toward him, my heels clicking on the hard flooring until I reached the rug in front of the chair.
“On your knees,” he said, his eye contact with mine unwavering.
“Yes, Sir.” I folded down between his legs.
“Now undo my belt.”
I reached forward, a slight shake in my hands. It wasn’t nerves, it was anticipation and imagining what would happen in the night ahead. If he was going to call the shots, all I had to do was follow his lead. I could do that.
The leather slipped out, and I undid the buckle, letting the ends hang over his jeans.
“Get my cock out—that’s your dessert, little girl.”
Little girl. Fuck, I liked that. Why? No bloody idea, it just made me feel small and cared for somehow. Maybe I did have at least one kinky bone in my body.
“Like this, Sir?” I released the buttons on his fly. The thick wedge of flesh beneath the material told me how hard he already was.
“Yeah.” His jaw tensed, and his fingertips tightened on the chair. He appeared cool, but I’d bet his pulse was thudding in his ears the way mine was.
When his fly was undone, I curled my fingers into the waistband. He raised his hips so I could pull his pants down and expose his black boxers. They had CK around the waistband.
“And them,” he said, nodding at his groin. “Get my cock out like you were told.”
I licked my lips, hoping my red lipstick had stayed in place. He was bound to have imagined this moment when planning our evening. I hoped it was living up to his expectations.
His boxers were tight, and I wriggled them and lifted them over his big cock. It sprang upward from his thick patch of dark pubic hair.
He cupped my chin in a firm grip. “You’re gonna suck my cock until I tell you to stop, and when I tell you to stop, you are going to, instantly, and not move, not speak, nothing, okay? Completely still.”
I nodded.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“So do it.”
I licked my lips again and took his cock in my hand. The shaft was hot and solid, and I swiped my tongue over the tip.
“More,” he said gruffly. “Suck it.”
Damn, this man of mine was impatient. I wasn’t complaining. I opened my mouth wide and took him in deep, not hesitating to let his cock tip hit the back of my throat. If he wanted it, I’d give it.
“Ah, sweet Jesus.” He released the arm of the chair and slotted his fingers into my hair. “I imagined this but…fuck…reality.”
