Page 25 of Vivacity
Obviously, I oblige, but I’m fascinated by his insistence on holding back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone edge themselves quite so spectacularly.
‘Now run your tongue around the tip.Notyour lips—just your tongue.’
What’s actually on the tip of said tongue is the strong impulse to remind Ethan that no one likes a back-seat driver, especially when they’re giving head, but I refrain. He’s not the only one with admirable self-control, it seems. If this guy wants to pay through the nose to micro-manage me and torture himself into the bargain, who am I to refuse?
(Also, it would be a lie to say I’m not totally loving the effect this is having on him. It’s alotof fun, watching him gradually lose his mind through sheer pleasure.)
I stick out my tongue and run it delicately around his clean, delicious-tasting crown, keeping my mouth open and my lips away from his dick. God forbid I should overstimulate him. With an effort, I tip my head up so I can check him out through my eyelashes. He’s staring down at me with a level of admiration I’m not sure I’ve earned yet.
I wish I could take matters into my own hands. Bymatters, I mainly mean his arse. And his stomach. I’m bloody dying for a peek. This man has maintained Victorian levels of prudishness so far with regard to getting his kit off. I want to dig my nails into his arse cheeks and squeeze as I demonstrate how well I can deep-throat him. I want to shove up these pesky shirt tails and drag my hand over his stomach and enjoy all that hair and those abs.
He’s such a spoilsport.
‘Now with your lips,’ he commands me, and I waste no time in wetting my lips and closing my mouth around him so I can suck, just a little. The noise he makes has me wanting to go off-script. Maybe I can take control, just a little, while making him think it’s his call? If I act desperate enough for his dick, maybe he’ll allow me more of it. Any guy who claims not to like cock worship is a bare-faced liar.
With my lips a plush seal around his crown, I lick him slowly, sensually. I want this experience to be the height of decadence for him. Of indulgence. I’m not sure he knows much about the concept. I suspect Seraph is less about self-indulgence and ego and more about sheer maintenance, much like a PT or a daily supplement regime.
Pop some vitamins, work out, have an orgasm.
Rinse and repeat.
He’s shuddering against my hand and mouth, and the thought occurs to me that maybe he’s trying to hold off for the sake of his image. Maybe he feels the need to last longer than thirty seconds on my first day. Or maybe he’s trying to maximise his investment—but if that was the case, surely he’d have me naked in one of the many bedrooms in his hotel building a single block away?
God only knows.
I pop off for a sec and lower my lids to half-mast. ‘Please let me take you deeper,’ I beg in my throatiest, most porno voice. ‘I need you to fuck my mouth so badly.’
He gazes down at me, conflict written all over his gorgeous face. I bet he’s thinking about puppy training.If we give in straight away, we’ll create a monster. Better to show them who’s boss.I need to flip the script, make him realise that control here should look like taking action, not holding back.
‘I want you to use me,’ I continue. ‘Please, Ethan. I want you to show me what it’s like when you do what you like with me.’
Really, I’m just messing with him. But it’s for his own good. He may think he’s already doing what he likes with me, but I can’t see there’s anything enjoyable about this for him. His balls must be fucking agony. No, he’s doing with me what he thinks he should.
He thinks he should hold back, show us both how disciplined he is, how in control of even the most intense situation he is, when really he should let rip.
Ideally, down my throat.
His fingers flex restlessly in my hair. He doesn’t answer with words but slides both hands forward so they’re gripping my jaw and thrusts, filling me up. As a pro, I’ve anticipated this. I accommodate him as best I can, but bloody hell, is he big. He tastes lovely, and I make a noise of appreciation that should also tell him I’m good. When he hits the back of my throat and mylips meet my knuckles, I stiffen a little, and he moans, low and pained.
‘Fucking hell.’
I can’t speak, for obvious reasons, so I can’t tell him to fuck my mouth properly, but it seems his dick is able to advocate for itself, because as soon as he recovers he’s pushing out and slamming back in.
Finally. Finally I can show him what he’s capable of, why this deserves a trademark.
Ethan restrained and repressed was sexy; Ethan on the brink was hot; Ethan unleashed is dazzling. He’s all animalistic moans and feverish thrusts, his hands holding my jaw in place for dear life.
I take the initiative to give him every single part of the Sophia Petrakis experience, removing my hand from its grip to take him deeper, fondling his balls, grabbing that tight, toned arse(delicious)and scrabbling under his shirt to claw at his stomach, which is every bit as taut and alluring as I’ve suspected, and I wantmore. More of him. More of this.
He doesn’t last, of course. He can’t possibly. He was about to blow his load before he let me anywhere near his dick. I’m sucking and licking and groping and moaning, and it’s wet and messy and punishing and arousing as fuck. Working on the basis that Ethan’s not about to dole out any more orgasms, I may have to get myself off in the loos after this. I feel him swell up in my mouth and quickly wrap my fingers around his base again as I reach for his balls with my other hand. In his far-gone state, he seems to have forgotten all about his desire to call the shots. He’s basically given me free rein, and I’m damn well exploiting it in every way I can.
‘Fuck.’He’s practically shouting now, his voice all strangled and sexy. I wriggle in my chair, but it has no impact with my legs spread like this. ‘Fuck.Jesus!’
And it’s with that glorious curse that the man who is his own worst enemy allows himself to finally, finally come. He erupts into my mouth, rope after rope of hot, thick cum hitting the back of my throat. I suck him through it, swallowing around him with difficulty as he’s coming down, a stunt that has him practically shooting through the ceiling.
When I’m content that he’s done, I slide off him and lick him clean, my head tilted to one side in a way I know gives him an excellent view of my tongue lapping at his dick.
He looks shell-shocked. Devastated. Completely and utterly wrecked. And, honestly, I feel pretty fucking smug. Horny, but smug.
