Page 8 of These Family Ties
She walks out of the bathroom, dripping. Dropping in front of me, she clasps her hands behind her back, lowering her eyes. My cock bobs and slaps against my abdomen, leaking.
She sniffs delicately and licks her lips. Jesus fucking Christ. If she looks up, I’ll blow my load all over her face without ever having touched her.
A part of me wants to. She’s perfection. A Madonna sculpted of flesh and bone, her platinum hair cascading in a sheet down her back, the angle of her jaw, the curve of her neck, the delicate shell pink of her areolas and nipples rosy with her desire.
“Put your hands on my thighs,” I grunt.
She grips my legs, her hands clenching as if she cannot wait to flex her thighs and rise up.
“Do you want to taste my cock?”
“I do,” she purrs. She doesn’t beg. She just waits. The strange mixture of innocence and skill, the paradox of her vulnerability and imperviousness draw another bead of precum to the head of my cock. She knows how to ask for what she wants, yet she still wants to give. If Stark could have come down from the heavens and handed me a woman perfectly crafted for me, it would be this slip of femininity and steel kneeling before me. Her curves have angles, her softness is sharp, her bite tender. Even though she’s been forced to do work not of her choosing, she executes her duties flawlessly. She’s under a microscope, yet she’s found a way to carve out a hidden pocket of time and space for herself.
She’s a marvel. I’m possessed with the urge to drive my cock down her throat and change her chemistry with my cum.
“Do it.” As soon as I grant her permission, she rises, sinuous like a sapling. Without moving her hands, she stretches her body up. One long, slow lick up the underside of my shaft tightens my balls to the point of pain.
“Mm,” she moans. She opens her mouth, drawing my cock in and down as she sinks back, her ass dropping back to her heels as I rock my hips and drive my aching, throbbing dick down her throat. Her breast, small and firm, barely bounce. She moves like a cat, her skin rippling over her rib cage as the scent of my shampoo floats up to my nose. Her eyes lift to mine, challenging and greedy as she swallows me.
Slowly, I begin to thrust, rocking forward in tortuously measured strokes. Each drive forward, I hold, pressing against her until the skin around her eyes tightens. Then I pull back, allowing her a gasping breath after she chokes around my throbbing cock.
Her fingers clench, digging into my thighs as she tries to swallow, the muscles of her throat squeezing my head. She is unlike any woman I’ve ever had. She takes her pleasure deliberately, unhurried, reveling in the power she holds over me.
She moans again and my ass flexes, my body picking up the pace instinctively. My control begins to splinter. I want her. Tonight, tomorrow, next week. I want her in my homes, on my plane, at my side.
Her eyes bore into mine, tears running down her clean face. My eyes skate down her form kneeling before me, and I note the slight tremor in her thighs. A fine sheen of sweat coats my skin, my body shaking from the effort of not jerking myself out of her mouth so I can fully take her. Thrusting harder, I hiss as the nail on her left middle finger punctures my skin. A bead of warm blood rolls down my thigh. Her gaze darts to my leg and she swallows hard.
That’s all it takes. I realize, as my orgasm builds, my brows draw together, my lips peel back over my gritted teeth, the lengths I’ll go to give her anything her heart, mind, or body wishes. Waves of pleasure like I’ve never felt before roll out from my groin as the first burst of my seed spurts against her throat.
Her hands are a vise as a second nail punctures my thigh. I jerk back, grabbing my dick. Her head is thrown back, her white lashes brushing her flushed cheeks, still wet with tears, her eyelids fluttering atop a rapturous expression. Jerking my hand over my slick cock, a second rope of cum sails out and splatters a path across her chin, her lips, her nose, over her eye and forehead into the camouflage of her platinum mane.
“Mm,” she moans, low and throaty, her tongue darting out and licking my ejaculate off her lip. She rolls the bottom one under teeth, biting down to scrape every last drop into her mouth. I groan, unable to contain the primal energy that sizzles through my body as she laps me up.
Over and over, I come, my fist milking my cock, emptying my testicles onto her face until she looks like a filthy whore. My whore.
I exhale. But the urge to possess remains lodged in my lungs. My whore. My dirty little girl, who longs for me to debase her with sweat and cum while she makes me bleed.
She opens her eyes. I offer a hand. She lifts hers, placing it atop my palm like a lady. I pull her up, my pupils blowing wide as she drags her other index finger down her face. She swirls it around her breast, coating her nipple and areola. I kiss the back of her hand, bowing as I do so. Letting go, I grasp her face, squeezing harder with my hands. Her body relaxes, her face tilting a bit in my grip as she leans into me. Slanting my face over hers, I kiss her gently on the mouth, pressing my lips flush with her. When her lips part, my tongue darts in, curious to experience the taste of myself on her tongue.
My hands slide down her neck, over her shoulders, and stop on her upper arms. I bend down and suck myself off her breast, washing my tongue back and forth over her nipple.
A slow clap fills the air and I jerk back, my teeth scraping along her breast, biting her nipple harder than I meant to. My cock bobs as she hisses. A tall blond, his hair golden like a sunflower in sunset, leans against my bedroom door. “I let myself in since the door was open,” he announces cheerfully. He wanders over, clucking. “Cleeee-ohhhh,” he whistles through his teeth. “Oh, baby girl.” He drags a finger across her cheeks and pops it in his mouth, his pupils blown wide as he sucks me off his digit. “You’ve got it bad, sister. And you haven’t been sharing.”
“Webber,” I snarl. He touched her. He fucking touched her.
She senses the angry, possessive energy emanating out of my pores and lays a cool hand on my chest. “You’ve only given me half of what I asked for,” she reminds me.
Webber tuts. “That’s not very nice. Cleo asks for so little. But she deserves everything her heart desires.” The roaring inside of me subsides a little when his face softens. He truly loves her. He turns to his sister. “What did you ask him for?”
“I asked him to fuck my ass, then take yours while you pound me to a pulp. I want to see you both until I come so hard I’m temporarily blinded.”
“You think he’s got it in him? The cum on your face is still warm.” She lifts an eyebrow, pointedly staring at my crotch.
Webber follows her gaze and whistles. “I’m in,” he grunts, shrugging out of his jacket. He’s just about to rip his shirt over his head when he pauses, arms up, his rippling abs exposed. “Are you in?”
I consider. He’s finely sculpted. His skin is golden, the rich gleam crafted the same way the sweet grapes Cleo and I drank were. He’s tall, well built, his body so symmetrical that him residing on a Greek island is a pun of mythical proportion.
“We understand if you aren’t,” they say in unison, smiling secretly at one another.