| |
I fight back the urge to gag, at first. I’ve never done this before and while I’m totally freaked out to be doing it on the front steps of a mansion, with Kit and a dozen other guys watching, I’m more worried I’m not doing it right.
I close my eyes to stay in the moment. He moves my head back and forth at a pace he likes, controlling me. I take his cues and listen to his commands because, at baseline, I want to make him happy. I want to make him feel good because if he feels good, then it’s really me who has the control, right?
I mean, I know I should be embarrassed or angry. To be put in this position of vulnerability, to be debased like this, it’s disrespectful. And confusing, I guess, since he’s obviously tried to stop anything sexual between us up to now. But I’m not mad or embarrassed at all. In fact, I feel a deep, deep want unfurl in my core, a desire to go further, to be closer. This is turning me on.
When he tips my head back and thrusts, I have to force my throat to stay open, to take the length of him. I hear moaning and realize it’s coming from me, from deep inside my throat as I take all of him. I work my tongue along the shaft as he picks up the pace.
“That’s it, baby. Take all of it,” he says. It’s barely a whisper, an encouragement just for me, he says. “Just a little longer.”
I open my eyes and his gaze is right there. It’s dark and hungry and focused. It’s like we’re alone. He wants this. He likes it. And I want to feel him come for me.
He doesn’t break our connection, just stays totally focused on me, giving me soft words of encouragement until I feel the salty release start to slide down my throat. I swallow, and when he’s fully spent, he withdraws, tucks himself back into his jeans, and holds a hand out to help me up.
He pulls me in front of him then and meets the eyes of Kit and the other Blazing Pistons, who watch with varied expressions. Two of the guys are sporting active wood. Kit, however, looks revolted, his mouth turned down in a deep grimace.
Grisham reaches around, one hand snaking up under the hem of my dress and to my inner thighs, pushing away my panties, slipping a finger into my folds. I’m surprised once more to find myself wet for him. Drenched, in fact, and as his lips meet my ear he says, “Good girl.”
My hips move forward ever so slightly, pushing into his touch. He chuckles a bit, splaying his other hand over my dress-covered breast, pinching at the nipple underneath. His fingers find my clit and he strums it like a guitar string. I lean back into him, wanting nothing more than for him to play me straight to the edge.
“Sorry, Kit,” Grisham says. “As you can see, this young thing has been well and fully claimed. She’s mine, and she’s not going anywhere with you.”
Kit starts to step forward, his hands in tight balls at his sides, but thinks better of it when a third gun ends up pointed at him. These four guys are outnumbered. There’s no way he can fight for me and get out of here unscathed.
He puts his hands back up in surrender. His eyes meet mine and I’m surprised to be able to hold his gaze long enough that it’s he who looks away first. He scowls and says, “We’ll go quietly. We’ll let Drew know that his daughter is sucking cock on your doorstep like a common whore. That should go over real well.”
“Great,” Grisham says, his fingers still working my clit, his tone slightly bored. “We’ll be here. Probably naked. Show up again and we’ll blow your heads off.”
Spree makes a hand motion and several of Grisham’ men flank the Blazing Pistons, walking them to the front gate. As they disappear, Grisham lets go of me and I feel disappointed, somehow. I mean, what did I expect? He had me blow him in front of an audience as a power play. This whole thing was for show to piss off Kit, to send a message to my father. But it felt like something more. I’m inexperienced, but I know what sexual chemistry is and we have it.
He walks me back inside, and I look at the floor. Whoever that woman was—the one who got wet sucking a guy off in public—she’s gone now. I feel used and ashamed. But also ... wanting. I still feel his hands on me. I still taste him in my mouth. I still want him.
I don’t know how to feel. I guess that’s how he wants it.
*
