Page 8 of Christmas Mafia Prince
I put all my effort into sucking as he rocks his hips and keeps my head in place. I want to come so badly, yet I still focus on him instead. On the way his cock throbs or twitches. I’m trying to work out what he likes, and what causes him to make those ridiculously hot grunts. I look up at his flushed face, his hair a bit out of place now. I’m on the verge of orgasm. He’s a wet dream come true. I’ve got his cock in my mouth, and soon I’ll taste his cum.
“You look so hot down there, all ready to take my load,” Damen says, moving my head up and down. I let him use me forhis pleasure, my cock rock-hard and pulsing each time I imagine how we must look together, locked in this obscene embrace.
I am his low-end escort, but he still finds me so fuckable he can’t help himself.
I whimper and nod as much as he allows me, just so he knows he hasn’t pushed any of my boundaries. At least sexually, because I thought dating a murderer was a hard limit, yet here we are.
Every thrust he makes sends a shiver down my spine, and all the way to my balls. He’s close. I can feel it in every fervent thrust, every stir of the firm legs on either side of me. The word ‘husband’, rasped in his low, masculine voice, keeps ringing through my head as he plows my mouth, ever closer to nourishing me with his hot spunk. My body feels lax, ready for anything he can offer, because the rush of cum down my throat will seal the deal more securely than any ring could.
And then I feel it. He squeezes the hands submissively resting on my nape, and his salty essence hits my palate, then coats my mouth with its intoxicating taste as I gobble it all up like a starved animal.
He produces the hottest fucking grunt ever and continues sawing between my lips, until I manage to suck in all of the spunk that ended up drizzling down his shaft. Only then does he finally let go of my head and relaxes into the seat. Without him holding me in place, I roll back to sit on my heels and open my eyes, blinking away tears. I’m about to feast my eyes on my new hot lover when a face flashes on the edge of the curtain divider a few steps behind Damen’s back. I stiffen in shame, realizing someone has seen me getting my tonsils poked.
And yet I’m still fucking horny.
With my eyes trained on the absolute fucking god in front of me, I unzip my pants and get my hand around my cock. I don’tgive a fuck. If someone wants to spy on us, they can clean my load off the floor.
I can’t wait to see myhusbandnaked, but for now I settle on shifting my eyes from his sated expression and plump, parted lips, to his shamelessly exposed cock. That’s enough to serve as my private porn and I come with a moan I can’t stifle despite biting my lips. I’m all too aware that we’re not alone now, but I’m too horny to care.
A whistle, and when I open my eyes, Damen is watching me with a sated smile. “I liked your performance,” he tells me and claps. It’s borderline humiliating, but despite having come seconds ago, arousal squeezes my balls.
My face is on fire as I tuck my cock back in. He’s going to see it sooner or later during this holiday charade, but I’m feeling shy all of a sudden. I’m still catching my breath when I get up on soft legs only to drop into the seat next to him, because I don’t actually want to be far away. I realize I’ve sat on his book, but I can’t force myself to care.
“I mean there must be a reason we got married, right? You can tell your dad you met me at a gloryhole.”
He blinks, then laughs in a way that would have half the population lowering their pants. He kisses my cum-stained lips, then offers me a box of tissues and adjusts his clothes. “No. It needs to be believable. Let’s go with some romantic cliche that will speak to my parents’ heterosexual imagination.”
“Grindr then.” I wink at him, and it makes me all fuzzy inside that he laughs. “Okay, okay, I was working at your favorite coffee shop—which is viable by the way, because I worked in one for a few months—and had the biggest crush on you, so I always got your name wrong on the cup to get your attention…”
“One day I was looking through an artbook of William Blake’s works, and you said you want them as a tattoo design. So wespent the afternoon looking through the paintings. The rest was history,” Damen says, making a broad gesture with both hands.
I can’t help myself, I slide my fingers over his forearm, but he is not trying to keep me at a distance and brings my hand to his lips. I stare at him, enchanted as he trails kisses over its back, and finally bites into the flesh of my palm.
A reminder that he’s not the gentle soul his long eyelashes and beauty spots would have me believe.
Only then I remember. “My cat. He’s called Whiskers, and I’m not making it up to call the cops or something. You need to let me arrange a cat sitter.”
“Already taken care of, baby,” Damen says, stretching as he searches for something on his phone. Moments later, I’m facing a picture of Whiskers and the unmistakable tower of boxes stacked in the corner of my tiny studio.
Damen slides his thumb over the screen to show me a guy with a scar on his face holding my fluffy son. Traitor looks like he’s having the time of his life.
“And this is…?” I ask, dumbfounded. I don’t know if I should be flattered that he thought of everything, or terrified that he had someone break into my home.
“Oh, that’s my cousin. He’s staying in New York over the holidays so I gave him your keys. He was thrilled, since he travels too much to have pets of his own.”
I don’t bother asking what he does for a job, because I’m too afraid the answer would be ‘assassin’. But I do wonder if this means my cat is a hostage.
“Thanks,” I say in the end, because I guess itwasthoughtful.
But Damen isn’t yet done with me and pulls me close, grabbing what looks like a full-sized restaurant menu. “Right, let's get some food in us before we land. We’ll need the energy for a few hours of shopping.”
It seems I have no choice but to interact with someone who saw me suck dick after all. When I see what’s on the menu, I no longer give a shit.
Chapter 4
Damen
Iusuallytravelbyprivate jet twice a month, but it’s a treat to see Kill’s reactions to everything I’ve had at my disposal since childhood. My cousin told me in detail how small and cramped my fake husband’s place is. Offering him a heavenly Christmas vacation with all-inclusive food, travel, shopping and dick-on-demand is the least I can do.
