Coaxing the Roughneck

Turning away from him, I strip off my tank top, letting it linger on the tip of my finger a moment before allowing it to flutter to the ground. Making hot eye contact with him over my shoulder, I unhook the front clasp of my bra and drop it, gratified when Butch lurches off the table.

“Let me see them,” he rasps, wetting his lips. “Want to see the tits.”

Humming in my throat, I turn, but at the last second, I cover them with my hands. Apparently I’m more of a burlesque performer than a stripper, because the tease is what’s turning me on. What’s making this exciting for me. A cog twists in my tummy when he lets out a frustrated groan, pounding his free hand on the table.

“Show them to Daddy.”

The demand in his tone makes me shiver, but I don’t drop my hands until I’m a foot away from Butch. Then I release my breasts and arch my back so he can inspect them. Oh, but he does so much more than that. Not only does he moan brokenly, but I watch in awe as his erection mottles and jerks, spurting a rope of semen onto the floor between my feet. And I love it. I love that he can’t maintain his control around me. That my body alone can cause his to react in involuntary ways.

I want more more more.

“My fuck would make them bounce,” he grits out, muscles flexing violently with every rough yank of his hand. “I’d suck them for fucking hours.”

God, he wants to have sex so badly. It’s such a stark need in this virile man. In that moment, I make up my mind that we will reach that place. He’ll be inside of me—I’m going to make it happen. Maybe not right now, but soon. I’ll give myself to this man who lives with a wealth of pain and refuses to put me through any.

Placing my hands on his perspiring shoulders, I slowly let my hard nipples make contact with his bare chest, rubbing them side to side through grease and sweat. Then I press my mouth to the space between his pectorals, dragging my open lips down, down, lowering myself until my breasts are even with the long, thick shaft in his hands. Biting my lip, I look up at Butch, who seems to be holding his breath, and I begin to rub my sensitive nipples on his arousal.

I push my breasts together and create a tunnel for his sex, although his size doesn’t allow for too much friction. It’s enough just to have this intimacy. To have his thickness riding the center of my chest with more and more vigor, desperation. I push my breasts around him as tightly as I can, listening to him grunt as he works, works, works his hips in tight pumps, his shaft so large it prods me in the throat at the end of his thrusts.

“I have to stop this,” he pushes through his teeth. “It’s making me need to fuck. You don’t know how close I am to ripping down your little skirt and finding a way into that pussy hole.”

Lust crashes into me like a wave. Do it.

To feel this man inside of me. To be the one who fits him. I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling than watching him get that final kind of pleasure that he’s been denied. And maybe it can’t happen right now, maybe he’s not ready to take a chance on hurting me, but I need to give him something. My nerve endings are giving off sharp zaps and I’m panting, in need. Without second-guessing myself, I stretch my mouth around the head of his shaft and suck. It’s not easy because he’s so large. My lips barely wrap around him. But I replace his grip and stroke him toward my mouth, my saliva allowing me to bring him deeper, deeper.

“Oh my God,” he bellows, taking two fistfuls of my hair. “You’re sucking it. I’m in your pretty mouth, baby. Goddamn. Look at you giving me head. I can’t fucking believe it. Suck suck suck. Lick it. Anything.”

I’m moaning now, my jaw aching with the effort to take as much of him into my mouth as possible. Wanting more. Dying for that salty taste. It’s my new favorite flavor. I want it everywhere. On my skin. Down my throat. It signals his pleasure and there’s something inside of me that has woken up and thrives on his gratification. I’m so lost in the act, his wild groans, the fingers shifting in my hair that I’m caught off-guard when Butch’s hips pump forward, as if he’s unable to help it, and he goes past my gag reflex into my throat.

“Oh,” Butch breathes shakily. “FUCK.”

I choke on him. Tears blur my vision and I pull away coughing—hard. My hand goes to my throat reflexively, rubbing at the new ache. I’ve been neglecting my need to breathe for so long that it takes me longer than usual to catch my breath. But when I get back on my knees to try again, I realize Butch is staring down at me, still aroused, but clearly devastated.