Page 57 of Filthy Secret
“No,” I whisper.
I don’t know what to say, how to feel, or what to think. All I can do is stare at him and tell myself to breathe. In and out. In and out. Over and over in hopes that I don’t pass out completely from the overwhelming feelings that consume me in this moment.
His lips twitch, a snarky smirk firmly planted on his face, and then he begins to move. I expect him to walk toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, knowing that each patched brother has his own space, especially the ones who hold an office.
Since he’s the president, he has the best room and an en suite bathroom. Something that not everyone else has here. But Grover doesn’t walk down the hallway. In fact, he passes by it, and my heart races, wondering where he’s taking me.
I may have been okay with his hand between my legs, hidden by being on his lap, and still fully clothed, but I don’t think I could ever be on the pool table with the rest of the whores. Or on a sofa against the wall.
That’s just not who I am.
Call me a prude if you must, but there are some things I just can’t do. Plus, I don’t look as hot as I did at eighteen. I’ve had a baby. I’m not as taut and tight all over as I used to be. Nobody would want to see everything I have going on. I’m frankly shocked that Grover does.
He stops walking, and I look around him, noticing that we’re at the dessert table. Grover releases his grip on my ass and reaches down, picking up a cupcake and handing it to me. Then he grabs two cookies and carries me straight toward his bedroom.
He kicks the door closed, then sets me down on my feet beside the bed. Tipping my head back, I look up into his eyes. “Grover,” I exhale.
He reaches out, takes the cupcake from me, and examines it for a moment. Then he slowly reaches his hand out and touches the frosting to my lips. He glides it along my bottom lip, then my upper lip.
I can’t move. I can’t even think. My entire body freezes. Grover leans over, his tongue slipping out as he licks the frosting off my lips. Then he slips his tongue inside of my mouth, and I whimper at the sensation. He’s warm and sweet, perfection like no other. There was never anyone but him anyway.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “On your knees.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Sinking to my knees, I unbuckle his belt, grip the waistband of his jeans, and gently guide them down his legs until they pool at his feet. He lifts his hand and reaches out, wrapping his fingers in the back of my hair to hold my head still.
I don’t know what to expect next, but when he reaches out his other hand, his fingers digging into my cheeks, he leans over and looks directly into my eyes. He’s just inches from my face, and I know what’s coming.
My belly clenches. I should not be so excited about this. I should not want this. If I heard of anyone else doing this, I would probably think it’s degrading. It is. But it’s also part of ownership.
And he owns me.
He always has.
When the spit leaves his mouth, it slowly drips into my mouth. It’s warm, wet, and still sweet from the frosting. Then he places his lips on mine, and his tongue fills me as he tastes me, the kiss hard and delicious, before he straightens.
Curling my fingers at the waist of his underwear, I pull it down his legs, freeing his already hard length. I wrap one hand around his hard cock, then look up at him through my lashes, lean forward, and touch my lips to the head of his dick.
Grover grunts, his fingers in my hair tightening, but otherwise, he doesn’t make a move. Opening my mouth, I take him inside of me as far as I can, never looking away from his gaze. I move along his length, my hand taking up the slack that my mouth and throat can’t handle.
I’m really starting to get into it, moving along him with my mouth. Twisting my saliva-covered hand gently, moaning as I do when he tugs my head back and holds me just far enough away from his body that I can’t take him.
“Beautiful, Ryan,” he grunts. “But I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth now. Open up.”
I do as he instructs. I open my mouth, and without another word, he sinks his hard length as far down my throat as he can without choking me. Looking up at him, I stare, mesmerized by his eyes, unable to look away.
He fucks my mouth. Holding me by my hair, my scalp burning as he moves in and out of me, down my throat. I can see that his jaw is clenched, and I know he’s holding back, controlling himself in an effort not to hurt me, but I also watch as his control bends, then snaps.
Forcing myself to relax my throat so I can take him without gagging or choking, I watch and try to breathe as calmly as possible in and out of my nose. He holds my head still while thrusting his hips back and forth, never completely shifting out of my mouth.
Then he brings my face close and keeps himself buried down my throat. Tears prick my eyes, then begin rolling down my cheeks. He grunts, then pulls backward, leaving the tip still between my lips.
As he fucks my mouth, it’s hard, harsh even. He doesn’t look away from me. On the third stroke of burying his cock all the way down my throat, almost to the point where I’m deep-throating, but not quite, he speaks.
“Touch your pussy, legs. I want your hand between your legs as I fuck you this way. Then I’m going to eat your pussy and make you come again. And if you’re a good girl, I’m going to fuck your cunt until you’re screaming my name. If you fucking thought you were sore the other day, you haven’t even felt the tip.”
Before I realize what’s happening, he starts moving harder and faster, going deeper than he ever has. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, saliva down my chin drips down my neck and into the collar of my T-shirt.
I slip my hand between my legs. My jeans are still open from earlier, and I touch my sensitive clit with a whimper. With my eyes on his, I move against my fingers, drawing hard and fast circles on my clit until I’m trembling.