Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

Oh yeah. He really wants this.

Deeper and I’m almost gagging. I taste something salty. His fingers stroke my scalp.

He moans and shudders. I’m deep-throating him. Go me!

I shut my eyes and focus on relaxing my throat, while one of my hands grips his hard hip. The other strokes his balls, which pull taut as he settles deep in my throat. Tears slide down my cheeks as I swallow against his length and suck my mouth tightly around his base, until he’s thrusting those granite-carved hips; making me gag around his huge girth; rocking into my throat as he pants and flexes his legs and I suck air in through my nose.

I look up at him once more. He’s beautiful. Perfection, really, even more so as he comes undone. His cock is so responsive. Swelling when I suction my cheeks around the base of him, leaking salty pre-cum when I suck and swallow deeper.

His fingers quiver in my hair and he starts snarling... talking dirty. Calling me his fucking whore, his cock-tease, slut, even as he slumps back in the chair, more swollen-cock-that-needs-to-come than guy.

His body trembles as I give the best blow job I’ve ever given. “’M... gonna make that pussy... pay for this,” he pants. He grasps my breast and pushes further down my throat.

So aroused... I’m surprised to find that even I feel hot and bothered.

So it’s a shame what I’m going to do. What I must do, to ensure my safe departure, and also to get some insurance: a way to invalidate his story if he tries to set me up.

I swallow one more time against his thick head—something all men seem to love—and focus my mouth around the base of him. I taste another drip of pre-cum. His hands, now threaded through my hair, curl into fists as he thrusts into my throat. He groans loudly. Grunts. I feel a flash of sheer lust, imagining his huge dick in my pussy. Damn, he’s close. I’m close. I realize with a bolt of shock that I am wet and throbbing too.

And then, as I suck my cheeks in hard and grasp his sac, his hips buck; he spurts like a fountain down my throat. His body shudders mightily, and I marvel at the moisture that’s pooled in between my thighs. I’ve never enjoyed giving blow jobs, but this was something else.

I stare down at him as I stand up. His eyes are closed, his head leaned back against the chair.

But his legs are wide open—cock still mostly hard, his balls hanging without a care.

His eyes peek open too, right then, confirming my hunch that Kellan Walsh is not someone who relaxes for long. His gaze connects with mine. I grin.

And then, before he or I can speak, before another proposition can be made or another kinky phrase exchanged, I ram my knee between his legs.

I hear him grunt, but I am on the move, grabbing my shirt and shoes and darting out the door, dashing down the hall and down the stairs. Down the stairs and to my car. I hit the driver’s side so hard it hurts my ribs. I hoist myself over the door and fumble with my keys. I’m cranking the car before I catch my breath, gassing it as my head spins.

I glance behind me, half expecting to see his Sexcalade bouncing down the dirt drive after me. Half expecting to see him in my back seat.

But... nothing.

Nothing as I leave his dirt road.

Nothing as I pull over to put my shirt and shoes on.

Nothing on the drive home.

Nothing as I contemplate if he was really what he said. If he really wanted what he said, or if he was simply playing me.

Nothing as I shower, study, slip into my bed.

And then my phone lights up.

I’M SUCH A FUCKING LIAR.

I think the thing about it that bothers me most is how weak it makes me feel.

I tick them off:

Would she believe me if I told her I make a damn good crème brûlée? I’m not sure why I asked. It doesn’t matter if she’d believe me, because I can. I’m a great motherfucking cook. I cooked for my brothers for years. But after I told her that, I backed away from it. I don’t even know why. Scratch that: yes I do.

My second dumb lie: ice cream. I hate the shit, so why did I say that? Having her in my house made me uneasy. As much as I want her here so we can fuck ourselves into oblivion, I can’t stand having anyone close. Everything about me is... forbidden. So many reasons.

So I told her things about him.