Page 26 of Filthy Mouth
“This mouth is yours,” she whispered.
“Good girl,” I said, brushing the swollen head across her lips.“Now open wide and show me how much you’ve missed Daddy’s cock.”
Her lips parted, but I didn’t let her take me yet. I dragged the thick head across her mouth, smearing her lipstick with my pre-come. It was just like the last time, only this time she was mine.
“Not yet,” I murmured, watching her tongue twitch like she was starving.“You don’t get to swallow until I say.”
I cradled her chin, tilting her head back so she was forced to look up at me. The sight of her on her knees, stockings biting into her thighs, blouse discarded in a heap—damn, it was a picture I’d fantasised about since that filthy night.
“You want it, don’t you?” I asked softly, almost tender, before letting the roughness creep back into my tone.“You want me to fuck your mouth until your mascara runs, until you can’t breathe without tasting me.”
Her breath hitched, lips brushing the head. I pushed just enough for her tongue to flick against me, then pulled away.
“Patience,” I warned, stroking myself in front of her, letting every drop glisten.“Look at this cock. You’ll choke on it before I’m done. You’ll drool all over yourself and thank me for it.”
She whimpered, thighs pressing together.
“Ah-ah,” I said with a sharp smile.“No touching. I told you—your mouth is mine tonight. The rest of you can suffer.”
Her lips stretched around me, glossy and wet, as I slid further in. The heat of her mouth was enough to make my head swim, but I held her still, controlling the pace. She whimpered as I nudged the back of her throat, spit already dripping down her chin.
“That’s it,” I growled, brushing my thumb across her cheek.“Take it deeper. I want every inch buried down that throat.”
Her lashes fluttered as she tried, gagging softly before pulling back. I didn’t let her retreat far—just enough to smear her saliva over her lips before I pressed forward again, slow and unrelenting.
“Look at you,” I murmured, my hips rolling as she worked her tongue around the thick length.“On your knees, messy little mouth wide open, drooling all over yourself. You were made for this.”
A shiver ran through her, and her eyes lifted to mine. Glassy. Willing. Desperate. My cock throbbed against her tongue, begging me to break the rhythm and drive in hard. But I wanted the slow burn. I wanted her on edge, needy for the inevitable.
“Hands on your thighs,” I commanded when her fingers twitched.“You don’t touch. You let me use you exactly how I want.”
She obeyed, nails digging into her skirt as I fed her another inch, then another, until her throat strained around me. Her muffled moan vibrated against my cock, and I let out a harsh groan.
“Fuck, yes. That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for. Don’t stop now—I’m not letting you up until your throat remembers me every time you swallow.”
I gripped her head, pulling back just enough for her to snatch a breath before slamming myself back inside her willing mouth. My eyes rolled shut as I fucked her throat hard and fast, her gurgling, choking sounds spurring me on. Nothing compared to the way her neck strained and stretched around me.
“Stand up and bend over the bed,” I ordered, pulling out.
Her mouth glistened, spit dripping down her chin as she staggered upright. She bent forward, palms flat on the mattress. I yanked her knickers down and waited until she lifted her feet, freeing the damp lace.
“Back on your knees,” I growled, clutching the sodden fabric in my fist.
She sank obediently to the carpet, chest heaving, eyes glazed.
“Open.”
Like the good whore she was, she parted her lips wide. I slapped my cock across them, smearing spit and precum across her swollen mouth.
“Your knickers are dripping, Poppy. Your filthy little cunt soaked them through.”
Her wide-eyed nod made my cock pulse with heat.
I rammed the head back between her lips, stabbing deep until her throat convulsed around me.“Not wet enough,” I rasped, dragging free to smear her spit across her chin before driving back in.“I’ll make them wetter for such a greedy slut.”
When I finally tore out, her lips glistened, a web of spit hanging from her mouth. I shoved the balled lace against my cockhead, grinding until the fabric clung heavy and sodden with my spend. Hot streaks seeped through, soaking the delicate black. A guttural grunt ripped from my chest as the last of my come painted her underwear. I managed to catch all of it in the lace, wiping the tip for any remnants.
I plunged the ruined lace into the champagne flute, bubbles fizzing over silk, spit, and seed. Holding her chin tight, I pressed the dripping gusset against her mouth.
