Chapter 52 Always so careful...
I lean in closer, my breath hot against his skin, making sure he can’t look away from the hunger in my eyes.
"Would you like that, Ryan?" I rasp, the words jagged and low. "Do you want me down on my knees, looking up at you while I take every inch of you?"
I let my free hand slide down his back, firm and possessive. "Tell me you want to see it. To watch me suck you off until my jaw aches and you’re shaking so hard you can’t stand."
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to find his footing. He looks absolutely wrecked, and I love it.
"Do you..." he starts, his voice a fragile thread. He licks his lips, his gaze darting to mine and then skittering away. "Do you have to make it sound so..."
He trails off, the words dying in his throat. I don't give him the space to breathe. I lean in, catching his lower lip between my teeth. I suck on it firmly, feeling the shudder that wracks his entire frame, before letting it slip free with a wet, lingering drag.
"So what?" I whisper against his mouth.
I run my thumb over the sensitive, damp tip of him again. He jerks, his head snapping to the side as he tries to hide the sheer intensity of the sensation. A broken moan tears from his throat, his eyes fluttering shut as his knees buckle just a fraction. A fierce flush climbs from his collarbones to the tips of his ears. Finally, he turns back to me, his eyes blown wide and shimmering with a mix of need and sweet, desperate shame.
"Vulgar," he breathes, the word almost shy, a tiny confession. "Do you have to make it sound so vulgar?"
I study the beautiful ruin of his face....the bitten lip, the blown pupils, the way he’s vibrating under my touch. Then a low chuckle vibrates in my chest. I can't help it.
"Do my words scare you?" I ask, my voice dropping an octave, turning dark and predatory. The contrast between the look he's giving me and the way he’s pulsing against my palm is a drug I didn't know I was addicted to.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he snaps his head to the side again, his gaze fixated on anything in the room that isn't me. I reach up, my fingers hooking under his jaw, and I force him to turn back. I don't let go until our eyes connect.....until he has no choice but to drown in the hunger I’m leveling at him.
As I study him, it hits me. I’ve never heard him curse. Not once. Even in the heat of this, there’s a caution in him, a politeness that feels like a physical barrier he’s terrified to break. It’s almost endearing, the way he clings to his composure while I’m desperate to strip it away.
"Always so careful, aren't you?....What would you rather I say, Ryan? Is there a less... vulgar way to tell you that I want to taste you? To use my tongue to make you fall apart until I've drained every drop of come out of you?" I ask, my thumb brushing the corner of his lips. I watch his pupils blow out until the grey of his eyes is almost gone.
He's leaning into me now, instinctively seeking the very thing that’s undoing him. I lean in, capturing his mouth in a kiss that isn't soft or tentative. I taste the stutter of his breath, the way he tastes of salt and sheer, panicked wanting. When I pull back, I don't go far, my lips dragging against the sensitive shell of his ear.
"You don't have to be careful with me," my voice is a low, steady vibration meant to ground him. "You can let go. You can say the words, or you can just take what you need. Either way, I'm eager to deliver everything I just promised."
I take his hand, his fingers trembling slightly in mine, and I press his palm flat against my shoulder. I keep my eyes locked on his, intense and unblinking. Then I give him a single, curt nod...a silent 'do it'.
He lets out a broken breath, his chest heaving. His fingers suddenly dig into my shoulder, his grip tightening as the last of his hesitation snaps. He doesn't say a word, but the pressure of his hand is a physical command. He uses his hold to guide me down, pushing with a sudden, desperate strength that sends a jolt of heat straight to my gut.
I sink to my knees, and the shift in perspective is instant. From here, he looks like a god....all flushed and looking down at me with eyes that are finally starting to burn with a dark, unfiltered hunger.
I reach for the hem of his shirt, my knuckles brushing the heat of his stomach, my gaze never leaving his as I fist the fabric in my hand and urge him to hold it up.....he does.
I don’t wait, I grab his waist, my fingers digging into his hips to steady him as I pull him toward me. The scent of him...salt, heat, and pure arousal hits me like a physical blow. I want to ruin him. I want to take that polite, quiet caution of his and drown it.
His eyes are glazed, dark with a need he can’t articulate. I wrap my hand around him and his hips jerk instinctively toward my face. I lean in, my breath hot against his skin for one agonizing second before I take him.
I slide my mouth over him, letting him feel the wet, sliding heat of my tongue. I take as much of him as I can, my jaw stretching, the pressure building until I can feel him pulse against the roof of my mouth.
A choked, jagged sound rips from his throat, a sound far too loud and raw for the Ryan I know. It’s exactly what I wanted.
I pick up the pace, my hand pumping at the base while my mouth creates a vacuum that has him whimpering. I look up, keeping my eyes locked on his as I work, watching his head fall back, his throat working as he tries to catch a breath that won't come. I swallow him deeper, letting my throat constrict around him.
His fingers suddenly fist in my hair, tugging with a desperation that tells me he’s losing his grip on reality.
"Michael—" he gasps, my name breaking into a high, thin shard of sound.
I don't let up. The air in my lungs is gone, replaced entirely by the heat and weight of him. I reach down, my fingers brushing over his balls with a firm, possessive squeeze that sends a fresh jolt through his entire frame.
I don't give him a second to breathe. I surge forward, taking him even deeper, forcing my throat to open until I feel the thick, pulsing length of him hit the very back. I choke, a harsh, reflexive sound dying in my chest as my vision swims and blurs at the edges, but I don't pull away. I want every bit of this.
He lets out a moan that’s more of a broken shout, a raw, unrefined sound that echoes off the walls. His fingers lock into my hair, tugging with a desperate grip as his hips begin to snap forward in a frantic rhythm.
I can feel the tension in him reach a violent peak. His thighs are shaking, his breath coming in jagged, high-pitched hitches.
Then, he breaks.
He thrusts deep, his body racking with a sudden, forceful tremor as he begins to come. It’s violent, the way he pulses as wave after wave of hot, thick release hits my tongue. I swallow, my eyes watering as I take every drop he has to give.
He’s trembling so hard I have to wrap my arms around his legs to keep him upright.
I pull back slowly, the air hitting my face like a shock, and look up at him through tear-blurred eyes.
"There," I say, my voice completely shot, still tasting him on my lips as I reach out and gently stroke his cheek. "Was that vulgar enough for you?"