More Than I Could (53)

“Chase Marshall, for the first time since we met, I can’t argue with you.”

His smile grows wider as he pulls me into his chest. He works quickly to unfasten my bra. When I lean back, his eyes are glued to my darkened nipples pointing through the white lace fabric. Slowly, I shimmy the straps down my arms and let the material fall between us on our laps.

The cool air licks at my exposed skin. It’s a stark contrast from the heat building in my core, and the juxtaposition makes me shiver.

Chase palms my breasts and then rolls my nipples in his fingers. Each flick of a thumb against the sensitive flesh sends another wave of need between my legs.

He lowers his head, gaze holding mine, and sucks one sensitive bud into his mouth. My head falls back, my hair dusting my shoulders, as I moan his name into the night.

“Chase,” I say, gasping as the tip of his tongue swirls around my nipple.

He chuckles against me. The vibrations reverberate in every inch of my overwhelmed body.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he says, nipping my other breast. “You usually won’t shut up, and now you only know my name.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Strangely, I might be.”

“Oh, do you like me now?”

He grins. “I’m beginning to like your mouth more and more.”

I hold his face in my hands and kiss him. This time, I’m in control. I explore his mouth with my tongue and nibble on his lip. I suck his tongue and make him react by digging his hands into my hips.

I slide off him and get to my feet. His eyes go wide as I urge him to stand. He complies without a fight, although he’s obviously confused by my abrupt change in plans. Once he’s standing, I slowly slide my fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and push the fabric down his legs. His confusion abruptly switches to all-out desire.

Holy fucking hell.

He palms his thick cock and sits on the edge of the couch. A bead of pre-cum already dots the top. “Get on your knees.”

“Yes, sir.”

His roguish and wicked smile is nearly enough to make me orgasm.

I take his length in my hand, wrapping my fingers around it one by one. Holding his gaze, I drag my tongue roughly across the top, taking the dots of pre-cum away with it.

“Good girl,” he says.

Good girl? I laugh, flicking my tongue against the underside of his cock. “Do you want to be a good boy and come in my mouth?”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll flip you over and come in your pussy right fucking now.”

“That would be a tragedy.” I wink, hoping I appear more in control than I really am. Internally, my muscles clench. Temperature soars. I’m trembling—my body screaming for him to touch me. “I haven’t even gotten to suck you yet.”

“Megan—fuck,” he hisses.

I sink my mouth over his cock, wrapping my lips around the velvety shaft as I slide back up. A rush of air escapes his lips as I swirl my tongue around the tip.

“Yes,” I say, sucking my way down the side of his cock. “We’re going to fuck. Later.”

Licking back up to the head, I watch his eyes burn. It’s so fucking sexy.

I sit taller. Wrapping one hand around his shaft, the other cupping his balls, I take him down my throat and back up again.

His hips flex, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he tries to contain himself. He reaches between us and squeezes one of my breasts, playing with the nipple as I find a rhythm.

“That feels so good that I could just lose it right now,” he says through clenched teeth.

Seeing him on the precipice of losing control because of me is one of the most powerful moments of my life.

I hum. The rumble makes him moan.

My panties are soaked. Wetness coats my thighs, and the denim of my jeans sticks to my skin. I clench my legs together, hoping for relief.

Relief that doesn’t come.

The need only gets worse.

I swirl the head again before taking him deep down my throat.

“Stop if you don’t want me to come in your mouth,” he warns.

His balls swell. The base of his cock shakes, and his thighs tense.

“Megan …”

My eyes water as I continue the pace, not about to stop without tasting him.

He thrusts into my mouth, his hands digging into my hair and holding my head in place. A shot of cum finds the back of my throat. Another hits the roof of my mouth. By the third splash of cum, I’m swallowing as fast as he’s emptying himself into me.

“Motherfucker …” He moans, his hips off the couch and the back of his head buried into the sofa. “Motherfucking hell, Megan.”

Finally, he collapses. His fists ease in my hair, and I can pull back. Then, after a final lick across the head of his cock—to which he trembles—I rock back on my heels and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

Tears run down my face from the experience. But my sense of satisfaction outweighs any discomfort.

I made him come. He came like that for me.

He pants, chuckling in disbelief. “That was the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

“Really?”

He laughs and sits up. “I’ve been lying in bed every night this week, thinking about fucking you. Hell, if I’d known you could suck a cock like that, I’d have been dreaming about that.”