Page 48 of Bird on a Blade
I fucking love it.
I roll my hips in time with his thrusts, desperate to be filled. I try to reach down and touch my clit but it throws me off balance, and his cock slams sideways in my mouth.
Immediately, he pulls out of me with a gasp.
“I’m s-sorry,” I sputter. “I just?—”
“On your back.”
When he says it, he doesn’t sound like Sawyer. He sounds like Sawyer Caldwell, the infamous spree killer.
And I have no choice but to obey.
I fall backward on the bed, instinctively spreading my legs. But Sawyer doesn’t mount me like I expect him to. Instead, he walks around the perimeter of the bed, eyes roving over my body, his cock bobbing with each step. I watch him, my breath shuddery, not sure what’s coming next. My body’s prepared for anything, though, given the arousal already slicking my thighs.
He stops by my head, then slides his hands under my arms and drags me backward over the bed until my head dangles off the side. He steps over me, his cock eclipsing the room’s dim light.
“I want to watch you touch yourself.” It’s an order, not a request.
I do as he asks and slide my hand between my thighs to run softly against my clit.
“Now open your mouth and let me fuck you.”
My jaw drops open so quickly it’s like I’m not even the one in control. Sawyer grunts as he slides his cock into my mouth, filling it completely. I’m overwhelmed by him: by his smokey, woodsy scent, by his hardness, by the sharp thrusts as he uses me for his pleasure. I’m so overwhelmed that I brace both hands on the bed like I need to hold myself in place.
“I told you to touch yourself.” His voice sounds far away. “I want you to come with my dick in your mouth.”
I moan around him, my response muffled, and then begin to work my clit with my fingers in earnest, rolling it in quick, urgent circles. Heat blooms through my core—I still can’t believe how easy it is to come over and over again with him.
It’s not long before we’ve picked up our previous rhythm, and I buck against the bed, arching my back so that Sawyer can slide even more of his length into my mouth. I’m hardly aware of anything but the building pressure between my legs and his hard, choking cock.
It’s hard for me to breathe.
It’s hard for me to breathe, but I desperately do not want him to stop. His roughness courses with desperation, like he’s on the verge of shooting his cum down my throat, and I want that so badly. I want to taste him. I want to swallow him whole. With every short thrust, my own climax builds, and even though my chest feels tight and I feel dizzy and blood-rushed I’m afraid that if I take my hand away I’ll lose my pleasure.
“Edie,” he rasps, his hand pressing against either side of my head. “Fuck, Edie, you take me so well.”
His hand slides around and rubs the front of my neck. I wonder if he can feel the bulge of himself as he thrusts into me. It certainly feels like he’s that deep inside my throat.
I start to convulse, just on the burning edge of my orgasm. I rub my clit harder. I fuck the air. My thoughts blur. I need air. I’m choking. He’s choking me. I need air.
I need?—
My ecstasy swallows me in a rushing ocean wave, and then everything goes dark.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SAWYER
Iam a monster. A killer. And when Edie stills beneath me, her body going slack and heavy, I come. I come fuckinghard, harder even than when I fucked her in the shower. I roar like the goddamn animal that I am, but I also, somehow, yank my cock out of her mouth. My cum splatters across her face. Her parted lips. Her closed eyes. Her slack jaw.
You killed her.
The thought hits me with startling, painful clarity, and I fall to my knees, choking out, “No, no, no,” as I grope around her pale, soft neck.
I find her pulse.
It’s strong and sure, fluttering wildly against my fingers, and I sigh and slump down on the bed. I never should have done that. Abusing her cunt is one thing. She can clearly handle it. But abusing her mouth?