Page 85 of American King (New Camelot Trilogy 3)
I thrust into his mouth with a
coarse movement that sends me to the back of his throat, and I’m rewarded with the sound of his choking a little. “So even the great Maxen Colchester has a gag reflex,” I mutter, which earns me a reproachful glare from below.
“Well, now you know how the rest of us feel,” I counter in a surly tone, shoving into him again to make him gag, but to my shock, he opens his mouth like a pro, and suddenly my tip is being squeezed by the tight heat of his throat. He swallows around me, a constriction unlike anything I ever could have dreamed of, and I cry out, rocking against him, seeking out more and more and more.
I try to soak in every moment of my angrily face-fucking the President—the feel of his crossed wrists straining the grip of my hand and the occasional scratch of stubble along my rod or against my balls when I’m all the way down his throat. His watering eyes and tousled, highwayman hair. The noises he makes—crude, wet, mechanical even—the glisten of his lips around my erection.
I let him have every angry thought, every angry flare and flash that has haunted me over the years, every time I’ve wanted to hurt him or hurt myself or hurt both of us just so that I wouldn’t have to feel so fucking much any more. And I give him every feeling now, even awe in the midst of all this anger, awe that I have a king on his knees and my cock down his throat, and every part of it feels magical somehow, even the accidental catch of his teeth on my skin or his convulsive shudder when I hit his throat at the wrong angle.
“I’m going to come,” I rasp, looking down at him. “I’m going to pour it all down your throat.”
He merely nods, as if I’ve said something mildly interesting. Nods with his eyes streaming the tears of the deep-throated and his lips stretched wide around me. And then I do something I’ve wanted to do for sixteen years, and I fuck him as hard as he’s ever fucked me, I fuck him, wanting him to feel as I feel—torn apart with him, shredded by him.
Nothing without him.
It comes all in a rush, and I grunt, “Fuck, fuck, yes, all the way down, fuck, fuck—” and I can feel the contractions and clenches in my belly, in my thighs, I can feel tingles sparking up to my fingers and down through my toes, and I can feel Ash struggling to swallow everything I’m jetting into him, and I look down and he’s looking up and me and then I realize somehow our hands had shifted in my fury or maybe it was as I came, but I’m no longer holding his wrists.
He’s holding mine.
I stare at our hands as I drain into his mouth, and then I pull away and stagger backwards, bracing myself on a nearby table.
He stands up slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a gesture that has me getting hard all over again.
“See?” he says.
“Fuck you.”
“Such a mouth.” Coming from him like this, it’s both a quip and a compliment. Such a mouth. I know he’s thinking of fucking it right now.
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“If you say so.”
He reaches down to tug his hard cock into a better position, and I have an idea—a wicked idea. “I’ll let you between my thighs,” I say, with a sharp smile.
I expect him to say no, I expect him to flare with anger at my insulting offer, but instead he tugs his sweater off his body right away, kicks off his shoes.
I’m speechless as always at the sight of his bare chest, his furrowed abs arrowing down to his groin, and then when his slacks are off and there’s those boxer briefs clinging to the muscles of his thighs and the curve of his ass—
And then the briefs are off and I’m swallowing hard. His cock is brutal looking, a dark near-red, with pre-cum beaded at the tip, and he’s so hard from sucking me off, and that thought is so fucking arousing. That I had this effect on such a powerful man simply by taking my pleasure in his mouth.
I peel off my own clothes, trying not to revel so much in the hungry way his eyes trace over my naked body, and then I move to the bed and he follows. I take the position that he’s used when I’ve fucked his thighs and lay flat on my back. It had always felt so patronizing on his part, the way he’d lay after he got off, supine and pretending to be bored. It had always made me feel like the needy youth, the eager boy climbing onto his experienced lover and spilling after only a couple thrusts.
But now, as I’m laying back and watching Ash prowl over my body, I realize that somehow the roles have flipped again. I should be the patronizing one, I should be the one delivering bored generosity—but as he lays his massive body over mine, skin to skin, the power thrumming between us is thrumming the way it always does.
He doesn’t stay against me for long though. He moves down my body, licking at the flat discs of my nipples until they pucker tight, and licking down my stomach until my cock starts jolting back to life. And then he moves past my cock altogether and to my thighs, where he spends a long time kissing and nibbling there.
To get them wet.
He lies back over my body again, reaching between us to slide his cock between my wet thighs, and then he braces himself up on his hands so that he can look down at the sight. I look too and then groan.
It’s so fucking dirty to watch that needy cock moving between my legs, my own cock now hard and leaking and whining for the party. Then Ash lowers himself so that we are pressed together everywhere, his face in my neck and our chests against each other’s—oh God, and his hard abs against my cock, and I can feel the hair of his stomach rough against my erection and I don’t care, I love it all the more for the bit of roughness.
Ash pumps his hips like a man fucking in truth, his breath loud in my ear and as my eyes rove over the tantalizing stretch of his back and ass and legs. My skin goes haywire over the feel of his cock pressing and sliding against me, and then he catches my earlobe between his teeth.
“I’m going to come,” he whispers.
“Yes,” I whisper back, and as embarrassing as it is, I won’t be far behind him. “On my stomach,” I say on impulse, remembering the first time I did this with him. “On my stomach.”
