Page 53 of Yearn
Her eyes flicked to mine, defiance and desire sparking in them, a silent dare. “Only if you behave.”
“Mmmm.” Another deep groan left me. “No promises.”
Her strokes grew bolder, harder, and every fiber of me throbbed in response. My fingers kept their ruthless assault, twisting her nipples just enough to make her gasp, to make her eyes roll back.
Every stroke spiked my vitals—BP surging, pulse red-lined, lungs begging for air I couldn’t draw. She was malpractice and miracle in the same breath, rewriting every chart in my body with her fist.
“Dominic,” she moaned, the sound a sweet, tortured note that sent fire racing down my spine.
“Say it again.” I demanded, voice a bare whisper against her skin, “Say my name.”
“Dominic. . .” she whimpered, her head falling back as she lost herself in pleasure. Yet her hand didn’t waver, her grip firm, her strokes more confident.
She was blowing my fucking mind and had no idea.
Every nerve blazed with want, her touch driving me to the brink of insanity. The feel of her hot and soft in my hands, her skin flushed with an intoxicating mix of desire and fear, it was too much.
I wanted more.
I needed more.
I growled, “Tell me that I’m your Good Boy.”
“But you’re not.” She stopped her fist at the mushroomed tip and squeezed hard.
“Oh.” I shuddered.
“You’re very bad.” She didn’t move it. “Tell me sorry.”
“I-I’m so sorry, Mommy.”
“Are you?”
“I am.”
“You took this big cock out tonight. That’s not being a Good Boy.”
“I wanted to show it to you.”
She froze, lips trembling. A single breath quivered out of her. “Such a Bad Boy.”
The words cracked like lightning through my chest. I nearly dropped to my knees right there, worshipping the power she didn’t even know she held.
Or maybe she did know.
Perhaps, she relished in it.
Her gaze damn sure looked like she was enjoying every minute of driving me insane.
“Keep touching me, Mommy,” the words were out before I could stop them, the plea a raw, desperate sound that echoed in the quiet room.
She gasped, her eyes snapping open to meet mine. They were wide, but there was no shock, just the erotic fire that matched my own.
She didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Her actions spoke loud and clear as her thumb traced a slow, teasing circle around the swollen head of my cock.
My body jerked, the sensation so intense. I was already overdosing on her touch—pre-cum slicking her palm like a lethal drip IV.
The more she milked me, the more I knew I would want her, no antidote, no end.
