Page 53 of Until You Break
My tongue circled the leaking head. He groaned, hips jerking. His cock pulsed heavy on my tongue, veins ridged, skin hot. I licked down the length, nipped lightly at the base, then licked back up, teasing the slit until his breath broke. He let me set the pace for three slow strokes, then took it back, both hands in my hair now, using my mouth like he owned it.
Then he shoved me deeper. “Suck it messy. Show me you need it.”
I obeyed with a snarl, mouth hot around him again. Spit dribbled down my chin, pooling at my collar. He pumped his hips slow and cruel, pulling out until only the head filled my mouth before sliding back to the hilt, making me choke. His balls slapped my chin with every thrust. Spit webbed from my lower lip to his cock when he dragged free, then snapped when he drove back in.
“Open your throat,” he ordered, stroking the bulge with filthy pride. “That’s it. Swallow around me.”
I clawed at his thighs, fighting, nails scraping cloth. He laughed, breath sharp, and held me there until my eyes watered.When he let me breathe, I surged forward first, sucking hard, because I hated that I wanted it and wanted it anyway.
“Look at you,” he said, feral-pleased. “Pretending you don’t love it while you drool on me.”
“Fuck—” I gagged around him.
“Yes.” His grin sharpened, tugging my hair to make me look at him. “If you keep sucking like that, I’ll finish down your throat.” He groaned, then shook his head, crueler still. “No. Not tonight. I’m going to come inside your ass.”
When he finally pulled free, spit and precum smeared my mouth. He caught my bottom lip between his fingers, pressed until it bloomed darker, then thumbed the mess across my cheek, grinning wider. “Stand up.”
I staggered to my feet. He spun me, bent me over the table, and yanked my trousers down in one brutal pull. Cold air hit me, humiliating, my cock flushed and leaking. The wood was cool under my cheek; my breath fogged the polished surface and left small crescents of heat that faded fast.
He pressed his palm over my cock, pinning me to the wood. “Already wet for me. Perfect.”
“Fuck you,” I rasped.
“You will.” His slick fingers spread me open. He teased first, rubbing spit over my rim, circling too long, making me squirm. He blew on it, obscene, cool air on hot skin, then traced the pad of one finger across me again until I shivered.
“Stop—”
“Beg for it.”
“Never.”
He pushed one finger in anyway. The burn stole my breath.
“Relax,” he ordered. “Let me in.”
I snarled, biting my lip, but my body gave. He curled his finger, pressing deep. My cock slapped the table, smearingprecum. He watched the way my muscles gripped him and hummed approval, slow, maddening.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “More?”
“No.”
“Say it.” He twisted, stroking until my vision blurred. He didn’t seek anything but the stretch; he wanted me to feel the invasion and recognize it.
“More,” I gasped, furious at myself.
A second finger slid in. The stretch doubled, sharp. I choked on a sound, shame hot as fire.
“Don’t hide it.” He pinned my arm when I tried to cover my face. “Every sound belongs to me.”
He worked me on two fingers until my thighs shook, slow in, slower out, twisting so I could not mistake how much he was taking. Then he stilled, poised.
“Third.” His voice turned low and cruel. “Say you want it.”
I shook my head, trembling. He worked me slow, then harder, until my back arched against my will.
“Say it, or I stop.”
“Fuck…fine. More.”
