Page 64
He starts slow—shallow strokes, barely rocking into me, still hovering like he’s scared to mess it up. His eyes flick to mine every few seconds, searching for any hint of discomfort, like he’s terrified of crossing a line he can’t come back from. But I don’t flinch, not once—I want this as bad as he does.
“F-fuck,” he chokes out as he sinks deeper. “Thank you… fuck… thank you…”
Then he starts to move. Slow at first, but with purpose now. A little more pressure, a little more depth. His fingers tighten in my hair, not quite pulling yet, but bracing like he wants to. Like he’s holding himself back by a thread.
I moan around him, throat stretching as he fucks deeper.
“Oh my God—Sable—” His hips stutter, then drive forward again, more confident now. “You’re… fuck, your mouth…”
He’s shaking, panting, hips starting to find rhythm. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat and I choke, eyes watering, but I don’t pull away. My nails dig into his thighs and he jerks hard above me.
“Fuck—yes, do that—” His voice cracks. “Your nails—Jesus—”
He rocks forward again, this time with purpose, deeper and rougher. The drag of his cock over my tongue is slick and obscene, and when he bottoms out again, I gag, throat tightening.
“Oh shit—sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps, trying to pull back.
I grip his thighs tighter, holding him there, and his entire body shudders.
“You—” His voice is nothing but breath now. “You want this? You’re letting me—fuck—fuck, I’m gonna come—”
He thrusts again, this time all the way in, and my eyes roll back as spit slicks my chin, messy and hot. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to. The only thing I want is this—him taking control and losing control, unraveling with every snap of his hips.
“God—Sable, your mouth—your fucking mouth—” He’s moaning nonstop now, every breath a broken sound. “You’re so fucking perfect—holy shit—look at you, look at—”
His hands fist in my hair, finally pulling, guiding, using me like he’s too far gone to pretend he’s not. My eyes are streaming, nose running, spit everywhere, but I don’t care—I open wider, take more, feel him twitch hard on my tongue.
A desperate gasp rips through his throat. “I—fuck, I’m coming—”
The first pulse hits the back of my throat like a punch. Then another. Hot, thick, messier than he meant it to be. His hips jerk wildly as he groans through it, spilling down my throat in helpless, stuttering bursts. My mouth floods, and I swallow around him, sucking through the aftershocks until he whimpers.
When he finally pulls back, he’s trembling, still hard, still panting. “Holy fuck,” he breathes, staring down at me, lips parted, eyes wide and glassy. “Are you—are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I swipe spit from my chin with the back of my hand and smirk up at him, voice rasping. “You didn’t even come close.”
He sways on his feet, a nervous smile flitting over his lips as he rubs the back of his neck. “Um… we… we aren’t done.”
My brow lifts. “Oh?”
He swallows, shaking his head. “No. You… you did so good for me. I think you should get to come now.”
My thighs clench on instinct, slick and aching, heat pulsing between my legs so hard I nearly gasp. I don’t have time to process it properly before he’s pulling me up off the couch, hands gripping my arms. He turns me fast, bends me over the back of the couch. The cushions dig into my ribs and I brace my forearms across them as I feel him step in close behind me.
“Stay right here.” He drags my sweats down around my thighs, exposing everything in one smooth motion. Cool air kisses my slick skin, and then—
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes behind me.
His hand comes between my legs, fingers brushing over my pussy in a featherlight touch. I twitch under the touch, hips rocking back toward him. He groans, low and hungry, and then pushes two fingers in with no warning.
My mouth falls open. “Fuck—Noah—”
His fingers curl inside me, dragging through the wetness with just enough pressure to make my thighs tremble.
“God, you’re soaked,” he whispers. “You got this wet just from my cock in your mouth?”
Then his other hand finds my hair—fingers threading through the strands before fisting at the roots. He yanks my head back gently, holding me there, open and gasping, throat stretched and exposed. The angle forces my spine into an arch, tilting my ass up higher for him.
“That’s right,” he murmurs, voice low and full of heat. “Good girl.”
