Page 26 of Poetry On Ice

I rake my hands up and down my legs as the urge to touch him or myself becomes overpowering. I want to ask him for more, maybe even beg for it, but my pride won’t allow it, so I whine pathetically around his cock instead.

His lids drop to half-mast, obsidian glittering and coming to life beneath dark lashes. He runs his fingers through my hair, not pulling now, just combing it out of my faceso he can see me.

“Aw,” he says sweetly, “look at you, Babygirl.” The word hits me right between the eyes and slices through reason. It enters my brain and rewrites neural pathways. My hips buck, fucking into the air, and I force my face down onto his cock as hard as I can while still maintaining eye contact with him. “Look at you.” It’s softer this time. Raspy and raw. “So pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He gently strokes my hair again and smiles darkly. “A dick in your mouth and not a thought in your head.”

I’m dimly aware that I should be offended, but right now, I can’t think why. There’s a deep vacancy where there’s usually clarity. It doesn’t matter though. Nothing matters because Decker has clambered to his feet. One hand is on my jaw, pushing it down, and his other is prying my mouth open. Two or three thick fingers force their way between my teeth until my eyes are almost as wide as my mouth.

You’d think I’d hate it. You’d think it would scare me, or piss me off, or take me out of the mood.

You’d be wrong.

It’s fuel to fire. Gas to a flame.

My entire body is hot, so hot that my skin feels too tight and my pulse races so hard and loud I hear a clear thump withevery beat.

He looks down at me and his expression is unlike anything I’ve ever seen—on him or anyone else. He looks at peace. Completely still. As if he’s in his rightful place, and I’m in mine. He slips his cock into my mouth and down my throat so deep my eyes water, and I gag loudly. He pulls out when it happens, and I whine at the loss of him, worse than before.

I’m vaguely aware that I’ve lost control of myself because I can hear myself moaning and garbling nonsensically around his cock. Most of what I’m saying doesn’t make sense. They’re just words and whimpers that wind around and around the thick, hard meat in my mouth and get lost.

Now and again, I do make sense, and when I do, I say the same thing over and over.

I want it.

I need it.

My hands rake my thighs harder and more urgently every time he thrusts until, eventually, the heel of one hand is digging into my erection in a desperate attempt to appease it.

Decker sees me and stops moving. “Uh-uh,” he says softly, “that’s mine now. No touching unless I say so.”

Something’s gone wrong. Something is seriously wrong with me because when he says it, I let go of mycock even though doing so feels like it could kill me. I do it without question. Without hesitation. I do it for no earthly reason.

Except for the fact he told me to.

My hands hang limply at my sides as Decker fucks my throat in earnest. The sounds he fucks out of me are borderline grotesque and only growing louder.

My eyes are closed when I feel his orgasm approach. His dick pulses and swells, and he stops panting for two, maybe three seconds, and then I feel it. I taste it. A thick flood of pleasure. A salty river of release.

I choke and splutter and cough, but mostly, mostly, I swallow like a man dying of thirst.

When it’s over, he drops back into the armchair and sighs heavily. He hasn’t told me to move, so I don’t. My lips feel puffy and thick, and I have strings of saliva and semen dripping down my chin. He shakes his head slowly in clear judgment at the state of me. I’d like to mind, and I almost do. I just can’t seem to muster the focus required to make myself feel anything other than the urgent need to nut.

“Show me your dick,” he says after so long that my knees have gone numb and my lower back aches.

I look down wordlessly as I hook my thumbs into my waistband and slide my boxer briefs down. I’mso hard it’s painful. I hiss, sucking in a breath between my teeth as the thick elastic of my waistband scrapes over my inflamed crown.

Decker leans forward, face inches from mine, so close a pair of dark, infinite orbs dominate my entire field of vision.

“You’re a mess, Princess,” he says almost kindly.

I nod unsteadily, and that makes him smile.

He stretches his hand out and holds it up to his face. He licks his palm from his wrist all the way to the tip of his fingers, then he reaches between my legs and wraps his hand tightly around my cock without any warning. Every nerve in my body fires. Every pleasure center explodes.

I come instantly.

I come so hard I double over and fall onto my hands and elbows. Pleasure rips through me, breaking me, having its way with me, leaving me bellowing mindlessly as my orgasm ravages me.

As I thrash and convulse, he pulls up his pants and ties the drawstring in a neat bow. He sits down and crosses his legs at the knee and watches, removed, as I writhe on the floor.