Page 88 of No Turning Back
I guide her head, setting the pace, pushing a little deeper with each thrust. Her eyes never leave mine, wide and trusting even as tears gather at the corners from taking me so deep.
I can feel her throat constrict around my cock as I push deeper, that wet, tight channel massaging me. Her mouth makes obscene wet noises, these fucking glug-glug sounds as she takes me deeper, saliva pooling and dripping down her chin in thick, glistening strands. It's fucking filthy and perfect.
"Jesus fuckin’ Christ," I groan, my fingers tightening in her hair.
She gags slightly, her throat spasming around my head, but she doesn't pull back. Instead, she pushes forward, taking me impossibly deeper. Tears start streaming down her cheeks, but her eyes stay locked on mine, determined, hungry, fucking begging for more.
I can't help myself. I thrust harder, feeling her throat open for me, the wet suction pulling me in. Spit bubbles at the corners of her stretched lips, dripping down onto her tits in messy strings. She's making these desperate, choked noises now, her hands still behind her back, completely surrendering to me.
I grab the back of her head, fingers digging into her scalp as I thrust into her throat with abandon. Her gagging sounds make my cock even harder, the wet, sloppy noises filling our kitchen.
"God-fucking-damn, you filthy little cocksucker," I growl, watching her tears run down her face. "Look at you, choking on my dick with my ring on your finger."
Her eyes roll back slightly as I push deeper, her throat convulsing around me. I can feel her struggling to breathe, but she doesn't tap out. Instead, she moans around my shaft, the vibration sending electric currents straight to my balls.
"That's it, take it," I command, my hips bucking wildly now. "Fucking choke on it."
I pull out just long enough for her to gasp a desperate breath before plunging back in. Strings of thick saliva connect her lips to my cock, dripping obscenely onto her heaving tits. She's a goddamn mess, hair tangled in my grip, lips swollen and red and I've never seen anything more beautiful.
"I'm gonna cum down your fucking throat," I warn, my voice ragged and desperate.
She makes a muffled sound of approval, her eyes watering but still locked on mine.
I feel her throat clench around me one last time as I thrust in deep, gripping her hair like a fucking handle. The pressure builds at the base of my spine, a white-hot explosion that makes my vision blur.
"Goddamn motherfuckin’ Christ on a cracker," I roar as my cock pulses, shooting thick ropes down her convulsing throat. She swallows every drop, her throat working around me, milking me completely dry.
When I finally release her head, she pulls back with a gasp, chest heaving as she gulps in air. Spit and cum drip from her swollen lips, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She looks absolutely wrecked and I've never been more in love.
"Holy shit," I pant, collapsing back against the tile floor. My legs are shaking, my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape. "That was... fucking hell, Quinn."
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the ring catching the light. A wicked smile spreads across her face as she crawls up my body, pressing her slick, naked form against mine.
"So," she whispers, “that just happened.”
I run my hand through her hair, gently this time, massaging her scalp where I'd been rough moments before.
"Are you okay?" I ask softly, studying her face.
She smiles down at me, her eyes still a little unfocused but filled with satisfaction. "I loved it," she whispers, her voice slightly hoarse.
Then, in typical Quinn fashion, she shifts gears completely. "Will you make me some tea?"
I burst out laughing and fall back onto the kitchen floor, pulling her with me. She lands on my chest with a soft "oof," her naked body warm against mine.
"I'll make you tea," I promise, wrapping my arms around her. "I'll make you anything for the rest of our lives."
She traces the outline of my jaw with her fingertip. "Our lives," she repeats, testing the words. "That sounds nice."
It really does.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Quinn
We sit in the stiff chairs of the agency office, a thin folder of papers between us. The carpet is worn, the blinds half crooked. I’ve been staring at the same water stain on the ceiling since we walked in, pretending I am calm.
The caseworker, Nina, tidy bun, tidy blouse, tidy smile, taps her pen against the final page. “So, once you sign here, it is official. You will be on the list.”
