Page 163 of The Wicked
Frustration stained my feelings red. “Fuck, Sport, this is unethical, it’s risky, it’s stupid—”
Her hand left the inside of my hair as she smirked. “Live a little.”
And then she pushed me lightly until my back was against the sink, and she was going down to her knees, separating the slit on her dress for easy settlement; then the little witch smiled up at me from underneath her lashes.
Beyond sinful.
She looked back down; anticipation sizzled through me, butI still managed to catch the slight tremor in her fingers as she moved.
I reached down, putting a finger under her chin and lifting it so she could look at me.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” She gulped, shaking her head. “No, I’mdyingto. I’ve been dying to since that time in the woods when I suggested it,” she said, and I let her be.
I felt her fingers on me, and then she let me out of my briefs.
I watched her take in my size, her lips parting as she looked up at me. “How do you have a pretty face and a fucking pretty—” She looked back down, and my breathing grew ragged as she held me. “Fuck me, you’re—you’re huge.”
“You don’t have to voice it. I am not blind.”
I bit my tongue at the sensation of her soft palm trying to encircle me—it made the heat not enough, but at the same time, drove me to the edge.
“Not too late to turn back,” I told her.
“You should know by now that I take everything as a challenge,” she said breathily, the heat from her mouth bathing my hard length, and I wanted inside that mouth.
I’d never longed for anything more than the wet heat her mouth would provide to my cock.
She stroked me once, and then I caught her pink tongue strutting out of her mouth, licking from the base of my length to the tip, which leaked out pre-cum.
When was the last time I had relief or gratified myself sexually—I couldn’t remember—but right now, I was a starved man, and I needed that relief she so wanted to give me.
She locked her gaze with mine as she spread the pre-cum against my shaft, seeking easier friction, and then she licked me, taking her time, teasing me.
My mind had shoved the thoughts of being caught to a place where it didn’t bother me but made the act even more daring.
Her thumb brushed the slit at the head of my cock, and Igroaned, my hand smoothing her hair from the side of her face as I held it at the back of her head. I didn’t pull.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
“Anything you do is okay,” she said.
“I—”
She spat against the head of my cock, and her tongue and hand worked the lubrication around my shaft.
Edging me.
“We do not have time for foreplay, Zah—”
Her mouth covered me.
For a second, I forgot to breathe. My chest stopped heaving until I felt her twirl her tongue around the head of my cock, coaxing me deeper into her mouth.
A soft, breathy groan rumbled from my chest, and I parted my lips, letting the sound out.
I was throbbing so hard inside the wetness and delicate tightness of her mouth, my head was filled with equally sinful thoughts, like how badly I wanted to grip her hair and take control, fucking her mouth like it was my personal property.
