Porn Star(55)

Keeping my fingers curled around her wrist, I reach down with my other hand and work my belt buckle open. She keeps her eyes on mine as I unbutton my pants, as I tug my zipper down with a faint purr.

“God, I’ve been wanting this,” I mutter. “So f*cking much.” My dick is finally free, and Devi gives me a naughty little nip on my jaw before she moves down to her knees. Jesus f*ck, even just that is almost too much, with the way the bite sends a small zing of pain straight down my spine, with the look on her face as she kneels, as if she’s about to give me the fiercest blowjob in history.

Yes, please.

She tugs my pants down more so that my whole shaft is exposed, and she takes me in her hand. Normally at this point, a porn actress would pump my dick a few times, maybe even smack her lips with it, and I always like it fine whenever actresses do that, because hey, a woman playing with your dick is a woman playing with your dick. Don’t look the gift-horse in the mouth and all that.

But Devi does something different, and it does something to me, drives me crazy. She holds my cock and looks at it, her lips parted and her eyes wide, as if she can’t believe that she’s actually holding me. She slides her fingers up and down slowly, not to stimulate me, but to feel me and touch me, measure me and weigh me. Learn me and memorize me.

Everything about her hands and her expression makes it seem like she’s stunned and eager and grateful, and goddammit, it’s so f*cking sexy. And by the time she presses her lips to the underside of my dick, I’m ready to explode.

More than ever, I’m aware of the people shuffling around near us, of the fact that if someone looks under the painting they’ll see the legs of my jeans sagging around my ankles, Devi’s knees on the floor. But as long as they stay on their side of the art, I don’t care. In fact, it makes it that much hotter, but never mind that now, because Devi is kissing my cock.

Not sucking. Not licking.

Kissing.

Sweet little kisses, from my base to my tip, soft and warm. And then that she’s so f*cking young feeling comes back, but I’m too far gone to care or feel anything about it now. Instead, I revel in it, revel in the small, innocent kisses and her wide, dark eyes, which have gone from angry to imploring.

And like a flash, my mind is back to Raven’s Real Playdates, to the eighteen-year-old Devi worshipping my cock with her mouth. As soon as I saw her on that set, I was entranced. She was beautiful, fresh, soft and firm all at once, and after watching her go down on Raven, her thick ass in the air, I didn’t need any prep whatsoever when it was time for me to walk on. Watching her with my then-girlfriend had made me rock-hard, and then when she knelt in front of me, licking and kissing my cock with the kind of inexperienced and hesitant eagerness that told me she hadn’t given very many blowjobs before…

Well, the director almost got one more pop shot than she’d paid me for.

I used to justify my body’s response to Devi that day as a perverted reaction to her youth or maybe just a natural reaction to a new woman, but the truth is staring me in the face right now with dilated amber eyes: it’s none of those reasons. It’s Devi. She does this to me, brings me to the edge, and it won’t matter how many times she sucks me off, how many times she touches me or I touch her, it will always be like this.

Hell, at this point, even I’ve almost completely forgotten about the camera, and I know I should make this blowjob last longer, should back off a little, because if I’m this far gone without her even taking me in her mouth yet, if I’m this close just with these kisses…

But f*ck it. I want this. I want it like this.

I reach down and stroke her hair back from her face.

“Lick it,” I instruct, and she does, starting with my base and licking up towards the tip. Over and over, teasingly, maddeningly, and I realize she’s mimicking how I tongue-f*cked her earlier with the long, taunting strokes.

“Very cute,” I say. My thumb finds her lower lip, and I pull her mouth open. “But you know what I want.”

She smiles, my thumb still on her lip. “Then why don’t you take it?” she teases.

Well, then.

I fist myself near my root and nudge my crown against her lips, tracing the heart-shaped pout once—and then once more again—before I lazily push past that pout to the wet heat inside. For a moment, she does nothing but stare up at me, her tongue soft and still against my dick. And it’s not as if she’s being passive out of inexperience or reluctance or even naughtiness...once again, I get the feeling that she’s trying to commit this to memory, the way my face looks right now and maybe the way I feel against her tongue.

I can’t blame her. I want to commit this to memory too, every detail, the stray lock of hair on her forehead, the way her lips stretch around my girth, the way her eyes search mine, asking for permission or affirmation or absolution.

And then her hands slide around my hips and her fingers find my ass, digging in as she starts sucking me.

“Holy f*ck, Devi,” I say raggedly (and maybe a little too loudly) but I can’t help it. Her mouth is like this Valhalla of wet silk, her lips sealed tight to create the kind of suction that would make a man weep. And believe me, I’m near weeping.

She holds my ass and swallows against me, making me groan, and then she pulls off to focus her attention on the tip, sucking and swirling.

“I want to go deeper,” I manage after a few deep breaths. “Can I go deeper?”