Page 68 of Filthy Mouth
“Good whore,” he growled, slapping his balls against my face.“Take it all. You love being skull-fucked, don’t you? Look at you—eyes watering, tits soaked, nothing but a cock-sucking hole.”
I nodded.
“Again,” he said, and I opened wide for him.
He pressed into me, rocking slowly, before he snapped his hips back. I braced myself as his pace turned feral. My head was nothing but a battering ram against the bed, bouncing back and forth with each brutal thrust of his cock down my throat. Gurgling, wet sounds filled the room—obscene, slurping chokes as drool poured out of me, coating his balls, running down my chin, dripping over my tits. My eyes streamed, mascara streaking, but he didn’t let up for a second.
“Fuck, listen to you choke. That’s my filthy little whore,” he snarled, driving so deep my throat bulged with him. He pulled out at the last second, strands of spit snapping from my lips to his cock.
“Open wide, slut.”
I dropped my jaw, tongue stretched out, drool still dripping off it, when he gripped his cock and jerked hard. The first thick rope of come shot across my tongue, splattering the back of my throat. More followed, painting my mouth white, dripping down my tongue in hot streaks until it overflowed onto my chin.
“Swallow it all,” he growled, tapping his cock against my tongue as the last spurts leaked from the tip.
I closed my lips around the head, rolling his hot come across my tongue before swallowing in greedy gulps. It slid thick down my throat, and I moaned as the taste lingered. He smirked above me, cock still heavy in his hand, glistening with spit and the last beads of come.
“Good little whore,” he murmured, crouching down and gripping my jaw. His thumb pressed against my cheek until my lips parted.
“Open up. Let me see.”
I obeyed, tilting my head back so he could peer into my mouth. Empty. Clean. Just the wet shine of his mess coating my tongue.
“Perfect,” he growled, running his thumb across my slick tongue before shoving it deep inside.“That’s how I like my whores—obedient, messy, and full of my come.”
He helped me up onto the bed and passed me a bottle of water. I broke the seal and drank before handing it back to him. He set it aside after a swallow of his own and pulled me down to lie with him.
“Twenty-minute break before we go into Act Two.”
I giggled softly, still catching my breath.“You were crazy tonight—and I loved it.”
“I might have put several hooker scenarios in my jar,” he confessed with a crooked grin.
I laughed because I didn’t care what came out of that jar—I always had a good time. We never talked about our work in this room—only filth and family. An odd combination, but this was us. Our special time together.
I pressed my breasts against his chest, arching my back as I ran my hand through his hair. His eyes darkened, and he kissed my neck before pushing me flat on the bed.
“My dirty girl,” he murmured, tugging on my nipples.“I know what you need. I’ll bet your poor pussy is aching.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, and he smiled.
“I see from the toys you selected that all of your holes are hungry tonight, my dirty little whore. Wasn’t worshipping my shoes and cock enough for you?”
I shook my head.
He climbed over me and pinned my wrists to the bed before capturing a nipple in his mouth. Soft, wet—and unfortunately for me—teasing. His tongue swirled around my nipple before sucking me deep into his mouth. My knickers were already drenched and ruined.
“Please, sir,” I whispered as his teeth grazed my breast.
He ignored me and trailed his lips to my other breast, flicking my nipple with the tip of his tongue. I bit my lip and squeezed my legs together. He released my wrists only to seize both breasts, fingers digging in so hard I gasped from the sting—but my pussy throbbed harder for more. With a groan, he latched onto my nipple, sucking it deep and hard while he kneaded my tits, squeezing and releasing them like he owned every inch of me.
“What a nasty little whore,” he murmured against my nipple.“Go lie on the restraining bench.”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered as he climbed off my abdomen.
My legs trembled, but I managed to balance tall on my stilettos. I crossed the room to the curved, padded bench and bent over it, spreading my legs wide in offering. The lace cut tight between my cheeks, and I couldn’t resist grinding against the curve.
“Are you trying to hump the fucking bench?”
