Page 49 of Direct Action

“On you.”

Chloe lowered her head, brushed her lips over the fabric of my boxers, slipped her hand under the elastic, and with another sexy purr demanded, “Keep your hands to yourself and lift.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I lifted my hips.

Chloe yanked my boxers down, freed my cock, and within the space of a heartbeat her lips were back, this time without the barrier of fabric.

My fists twisted in the blankets.

My ass clenched.

Chloe licked from base to tip.

“Mm,” she hummed, right before she took my dick into her mouth and commenced her plot to torture me.

Slow.

So fucking slowly, she worked her mouth up and down my cock—flattening her tongue on the way up, sucking hard on the way down.

Up and down.

Down and up.

Goddamn torture.

“Chloe.”

“Hm,” she hummed again, this time with her mouth full of my cock. I felt the vibration and groaned.

“Christ, baby, your mouth,” I grunted. “I need to touch you.”

She shook her head, cupped my balls, and rolled.

Fucking minx.

“You like sucking me off, baby?”

Obviously she couldn’t answer, but I was taking her moan as an affirmative.

“Bet you’d like it more if I was playing with your pussy,” I told Chloe on a downward glide that had my eyes closing, it felt so fucking good. “Or better yet, swing your ass up here and sit on my face. I’ll eat you while you—”

The last of my suggestion died when Chloe took me deeper, the head of my dick hitting the back of her throat. Pleasure snaked up my spine, and once again I was in danger of blowing.

“Fuck,” I grunted. “Warning, baby, you keep that up, playtime will be cut short.”

She took my warning as an invitation to test my control and doubled her efforts. She went from going at a torturously slow pace that teased and edged me closer to orgasm but would take a while to get me to come, to a race to suck me off at a world-record speed.

“You swallow?” She shook her head but then changed her mind and nodded. “Pop off and finish with your hand.”

I was inching closer, and she was still sucking.

“Chloe,” I warned, grabbing a fistful of hair in preparation to pull her off.

With one more glide up, she pulled off but did not use her hand to finish me off. She scrambled to her knees, yanked her skirt up to her waist, moved astride me, and slammed down on my cock.

My hands went to her hips, my neck arched back, every muscle in my body tightened, and I pulled up the most gruesome images I could while I grunted, “Do not move.”