Page 263 of Fatality
“Fuck.”
I release his cock with a wet pop.
“Later.” He pushes himself to his feet. “Fucking bastard.”
He grabs the open waistband of his pants and yanks them up, but they catch on his thighs.
His nostrils flare. I see the veins bulge beneath the tattooed skin on the backs of his hands and along his forearms.
“Evren, maybe you—”
“Quiet!” he snaps, cutting me off.
In one brutal motion, he rips the pants off, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, bunched halfway down his thighs and his cock bouncing right in front of my face.
I want to laugh, but I also want to have that monstrous dick inside my mouth.
I grab it while he is still panting furiously, glaring at the tissue in his hands like it owes him money.
I wrap my lips around him as I swirl my tongue against his cock until I gag.
His hands fly to my hair, letting the remains fall softly on the marble.
“What are you—” He hisses. “Don’t…” he moans “Stop.”
I bob my head back and forth.
His hips start to gives involuntary thrusts.
“Fuck it.”
He grabs my head with both hands and looks down at me, his thumb brushing the tears I didn’t feel.
The gesture is almost tender, it makes me confused and my heart pounds louder.
Is it because I just got caught by the tailor man sucking that monster tip?
Probably.
Surely.
The sudden movement of his hips snapping forward, setting a punishing rhythm makes me gag and push against his thighs—or I’m holding on for my dear life, I can’t tell.
I feel the tears rolling down, my pussy aching.
For a second, he stays buried to the hilt, blocking my airway before easing back and snapping back in, in brutal but controlled thrusts.
He sets a relentless pace that makes me grips his own hips to hold on.
“You’re so good for me.” He praises, his voice breaking into a moan “You’re going to swallow, every fucking drop.”
His thrusts start becoming more urgent, shallower, more frantic.
I feel ashamed by being seen by the tailor but it was kind of exciting.
He tastes like pink pepper.
“Take it!” He shouts “Fucking take it!”
