These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

“Fuck no, you aren’t,” he snaps, his eyes almost taken over by anger. “You’re mine. Mine.”

“I am. And so you need to take care of me. And you need to let me take care of you. Because it’s been a week, okay? A whole week without you. I missed you.” I sweep my eyes all over his face. “I missed you so much.”

The fever lingers in his eyes for a few seconds, the violence, until it’s all replaced by lust.

Dark and hot.

“Yeah,” he rasps, looking over my features as well, and that’s enough.

For me to know. For me to be happy.

His acknowledgement that he missed me.

That he wouldn’t give me last week. When he came looking for me.

So I smile slightly and he captures my lips again.

And I arch my spine and thrust my tits into his chest, while pressing on the back of his head so he can kiss me even deeper. To make up for the past week.

But the more he sucks and the more he makes it sting and hurt so good, the more achy I get. Achier than before.

Heavier and more swollen, more lust-laden.

So much so that I get the strength from somewhere deep down to push him away, to take his mouth off my lips and even get down from his arms.

Then I kneel.

At his feet.

My tits jiggling under my sweater dress and my knees hitting the icy cold ground.

And when I’m in position, I look up.

I look at his tall and large body. His bent face, his bright eyes. That long-ish hair of his, hanging over his forehead, his harsh cheeks.

And I say, “I need your dick.”

He stills.

“In my mouth.”

When all he does is stare down at me with parted, panting lips, his fingers clenched at his sides, I put my hands on his thighs and say, “I know it’s big and it won’t fit in my mouth. But I still need it and you can’t say no.”

Finally he breaks his silence. “I can’t.”

I shake my head. “No. Because if I’m your wallflower, then it means you’re my thorn too. And so if I want to suck your beast of a dick with my flower of a mouth, I can. You will let me. You’re not allowed to say no.”

His thighs flex at my words.

The words he said to me in his kitchen last week.

The words that mean more to me than he could ever imagine.

So I go for it then.

I go for his jeans, ready to unbutton them, as I rub my cheek over that tent in his pants, hot and throbbing. Which makes it throb some more, my soft cheeks.

But he grabs the back of my neck and stretches me up. He bends down and levels me with his lusty eyes so he can growl over my lips, “You want to suck my cock, baby?” I nod, all lit up at his endearment, and he presses a hard, possessive kiss on my lips before continuing, “You can suck my cock. But remember what I told you. Remember that my beast of a cock is going to wreck your flower of a mouth. It will wreck and stretch your pinky lips before it does the same to your throat. Remember that I warned you. Your thorn warned you about his dick.”

He presses another possessive kiss on my mouth before straightening up and leaving me to do my thing.

And I do.

I do do my thing as my hands jump and leap to open his jeans. To tug at them, lower them and get out his cock.

And when it’s out, I hate to say it but I forget about everything.

I become all selfish and self-centered.

A bratty teenager.

A teenager who has no concept of the woods, the winter, the wildly breathing man standing over her. She only needs this thing, this red throbbing thing in front of her.

She wants to lick it and suck on the head. So she does that.

I do that.

I jerk forward to put his wide purple head in my mouth and it throbs like a heart on my tongue. So I do it more. Pressing my hands on his thighs, I suck and suck on the head of his dick, making it throb, making him all tight and growly.

Until I get bored with it. As if I’m playing a game and now I want to play another one.

Now I want to see if what he told me was true or not.

So I wrap my hands around his thick trunk and put it on my face. From chin to forehead. And he was right. He was.

It covers me whole and there are still some inches left. His purple head goes past my forehead and I smile. And moan.

I also slap my cheek with it, rub my nose along the underside of his dark rod. As I lick that vein.