Page 26 of The B!tch is Bad

Chapter 8

Patience

I don’t know what came over me.

I’d only put myself forward like this once before, with Ivan. He was playing the guitar at a fashion show and I’d accosted him on the way back from the bathroom. I’d never figured out what had gotten into me then, and I was just as clueless now.

Now, as I fell to my knees, I spread my palms wide around Creed’s hips and nibbled at his pulsing erection. Oh, how I’d loved to do this to Ivan! I’d never imagined doing it again as long as I lived.

I’d never wanted to.

Creed was such an ingenious, clever man. Intelligence turned me on. And even after my adolescence of seeing men as only manipulative, selfish shitbirds, I suppose it was my human side showing through. People want to believe in positive change. People want to believe their life can improve. And even after losing Ivan so easily to another woman, here I was again, putting myself in harm’s way.

Making myself susceptible to pain.

But pain is life. It’s in our blood to take risks. Otherwise life gets as dull as any London afternoon. So I succumbed to desire, and let Creed know I craved him by gumming his long, thick penis through his jeans.

Immediately he collapsed back against the counter with a thud. His hands cupped my skull, neither demanding nor urging. He’d backed off a lot since he’d kissed me the week before, and I needed him to know I liked him. I mouthed his length, tonguing the coronal ridge, exhaling steam. Wedging one boot against a lower drawer pull, Creed spread his thighs and leaned into me, massaging the back of my head.

My groans blotted out his. As my fingers walked toward his jean buttons, I thought I heard him grunt, “My girl.”

I wanted to play the game. I had him in the palm of my hand. Playing submissive was a trick I used on Ivan to great advantage. Men think they’re in control, but they’re not. Ivan told me I was always “topping from the bottom.” It’s a great game.

As my fingertips deftly undid his buttons, easy against the strain of his erection. I looked up at him. Defenseless. Submissive. My ass.

“Creed,” I panted, winding my fingers across his jutting pubic mound. “My master. My leader. My genius.”

His stare was so intense it could melt me, like a ghost before the rising sun. He’d whipped off his glasses and singlehandedly unbuttoned his shirt. I knew he wore no undershirt—I’d often admired the impeccable black chest hair peeking from the V, and appreciated the nugget of a tight nipple standing out against the prim white fabric. Now he bared his chest for my wonder, my respect. “Little girl,” he panted. “You do everything for me.”

I couldn’t resist. I slid my palm up Creed’s brawny abs, against the grain of the silken hair that arrowed into the steam of his crotch. My pussy fluttered when I stretched up to flick a thumb across his puckered nipple, making him wince with pleasure.

So I did it again. “Of course,” I replied. “I do everything for my daddy.”

He groaned so deeply it vibrated down into his pubic bone. As he dropped his head back between his shoulder blades, he revealed a stunning, muscular Adam’s apple. I yearned to lick it, but my mission was to get the last gold button open, and it popped between my nails.

Huge. Pulsating. Elongated and swollen beyond any penis I’d ever admired, a glint of jizz gleaming at the tip. I wasn’t sure I could, but I gulped it down, humming to send reverb back to his brain. When my tongue squiggled patterns clockwise around his girth, his balls drew up and his hips sawed, jutting his prick down my throat.

I sucked and licked, squiggling my tongue in his slit. Pussy clenching, I rubbed it against my heel.

“Oh, little girl,” he groaned. “You suck me so good.”

Encircling his meat in my fist, I added that to the mix, jacking him. His hips shuddered then, his member throbbing with flowing jism. If I just snuck one fingertip back against his perineum . . .

Yes. That did it. The second I slipped a tip up his tight hole to ping that spot, he let loose. I drained his load of delicious spunk as I massaged his p-spot. My thumb slid against the pulsing underside of his cock as my tongue slurped the warm, succulent jizz.

My hips pumped as dizzily as his as I rubbed my clit against my heel. I could’ve come this way, but Creed gasped as though he’d been holding his breath. His fingers seemed to be pushing my skull away. He’d had enough. I moved my finger from his prostate after giving it one last stroke.

“Darling, darling,” it sounded like he panted.

After lapping the last drops of seed from his prick, I couldn’t resist mouthing his pubic mound, my tongue sliding around to his tight ballsac.

“Oh—oh—oh,” he grunted, and shoved me away.

Grinning like a fantastic nightly specter, I rose to my feet, giving his hard, twitching abs and pecs a good feel along the way. My panties had slid halfway off my butt and he grinned with satisfaction when he squeezed my ass cheeks.

“Little girl. You find a better place to keep your money?”

I nodded, flicking my tongue across his lush lips. “But I’m not saying where.”