Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“No one can take me that far.”
“Didn’t know if I would be able to, either.”
“But you did.”
His cock is right in front of my face, hanging there so close I can see every vein.
I cannot do this.
I should never be doing this for him… with him, for any reason.
But I fucking need it.
When I lean forward this time to take his cock in my mouth he almost seems surprised. Instead of forcing himself into me, I’m taking him willingly, swirling my tongue around the ridge of his head, then moving lower.
When I take him deep into my throat again, it’s different this time.
More urgent.
He’s not just holding himself inside me and marveling at how far he can go. Instead, he starts to fuck my mouth in earnest, rocking his hips forward, stealing my breath and then giving it back again, over and over.
He’s already so close.
This is why it’s always worth it, no matter the consequence.
And I remember, with a flash of delight, that my arms aren’t restrained at all.
I reach up and drag my palm up the inside of his thigh, then cup his balls and give them a squeeze.
I hold his gaze the whole time. I keep expecting him to look away, to close his eyes, to remember he’s inside a man’s mouth and have some fucked-up shame enter his mind.
But he never looks away.
Not for a moment.
And I swear he can see every single fucking thought I’m thinking just from the way he looks at my eyes.
Just do it.
Come for me, then remember you don’t give a fuck about me again.
Come down my throat—
“Fuck,” he utters under his breath as I feel him let go, his cock pulsing as he comes on my tongue, and a rush hits my veins all at once.
I can’t believe he keeps his eyes on mine as he loses control, exhaling and swearing softly in Russian, his grip tightening again in my hair.
For a moment, all of the carefully constrained tightness in his expression disappears.
His face relaxes, his mouth parting slightly.
And Roman Petrov looks fucking beautiful when he comes.
He’s hot all the time, but when he forgets anyone’s watching, everything about him softens. The true beauty of his face shines through, from his cheekbones to his lips and even the way his jaw curves down toward his neck.
He slides his cock out of my mouth, agonizingly slowly, and even as it’s deflating it’s still obscenely thick and heavy against my tongue.
He looks me up and down, his lashes flicking low, then up to my face again.
He’s about to leave me here like this.
Wouldn’t be surprised if he left me tied to one of the nearby iron fence posts, even. I watch his chest rise and fall as he catches his breath.
He steps up, moving until his foot pushes between my legs, the top of it nudging against my cock.
“I need to see you come,” he tells me.
Every bit of careful control returns to his face.
“What?”
That’s not what this is.
You were just using me to come…
His foot pushes against my straining dick again, and even through the thick fabric of my sweatpants, the sensation is overwhelming.
“Take your cock out, and make yourself come. Now.”
I bring my hands to the waistband of my sweatpants, pulling it lower.
I know I’m going to call his bluff.
The moment he’s looking at another dude’s dick he’s going to change his mind, call it off, and snap back into reality.
“This what you want to see?” I ask him, pulling mine out and gripping it in my fist. “Not quite your monster cock, but it’s still pretty fucking big.”
He keeps his eyes trained on it. “Yes. It is.”
I stroke it a few times, and even that small bit of friction is so much after I’ve been aching for so long. “You going to watch? What do you want me to do?”
“Touch yourself.”
“Cock obsessed much?”
He glares at me. “Quit talking.”
“No. I need you to start talking.”
“Touch yourself. You want to come, don’t you?”
“Desperately,” I whisper.
“Every part of you is my responsibility while you’re here,” he finally says, a pointed tone in his voice. “That includes your cock. Your cum. It is all mine. If you wake up in the middle of the night and feel the need to go get fucked by some stranger, you will come to my room.”
A bead of precum pushes out from my tip and travels slowly, in a clear trail, down the underside of my strained shaft.
Roman’s eyes travel to it, watching it fall, like a king surveying his land.
It’s so unfair.
Mental warfare, really.
He wants to see me come, needs proof that I did it, so that he knows I won’t go out and seek relief elsewhere.
A breeze catches in the air and the faint scent of roses hits my nostrils. Someone could come outside at any time, and all they’d have to do is walk around to the side of the house to find us here like this.