Page 202 of The ARC Unit: Breach

I pulled back just enough to speak, a strand of spit connecting my lower lip to the head of his cock.

“I like your cock in my mouth.”

He yanked me back down. This time he did not stop at my own pace. His hips pushed forward and the thick length of him drove toward the back of my throat. I gagged, my throat constricting around the intrusion, and heard him exhale hard through the mask.

“Breathe through your fucking nose.”

I tried. My eyes watered.

He pulled back an inch, let me suck in air, then pushed in again. Deeper. The head of his cock bumped the opening of my throat and I made a strangled noise that vibrated around him.

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s it. Take it, Mercer.”

Wolf set the pace now, holding my head in both hands while his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts. The front of his pants scraped against my wet chin. Drool pooled in the hollow of my throat and dripped onto the floor between my knees. With every push, my bound hands clenched behind me, fingers searching for release that did not exist.

I moaned around him.

“Fucking knew it. Knew you’d look even prettier choking on my cock than you did mouthing off.”

His words burned through me and settled in my clit. I squeezed my thighs together, desperate for pressure.

Then he withdrew and let me gasp, sucking in air while drool poured down my chin and onto my chest.

“Good?”

I coughed. “G-good.”

His thumb wiped a tear from my cheek.

Then he immediately pulled me back down again, and this time I relaxed into it, letting my jaw go slack and my throat open as much as I could. Each stroke came easier. The gagging turned into a wet, rhythmic sound that matched the pulse beating between my legs.

“Take every inch. Let your mouth get used to me.”

Tears streamed down my face from the effort of it, from the complete surrender of his hands controlling my head while his cock filled my mouth.

The contrast of all that gear and this naked part of him made the whole situation feel even more dangerous.

Wolf pulled me off suddenly. A thick line of spit stretched from my lips to his cock before breaking. I slumped back onto my heels, panting. He stood from the chair and hauled me upright by the front of my shirt.

His other hand found the restraint at my wrists and began unfastening the webbing with quick, efficient movements.

“What-”

“Quiet.”

The webbing fell away. My arms came forward with a groan of relief that turned into a hissed breath when he grabbed both my wrists and raised them to his eyes to inspect them.

For a moment, the gesture was almost tender.

Then he released me.

“On the desk.”

I blinked.

“Ass on the desk, Mercer. On your back.”

He was already reaching for the belt at his hip, now pulling the utility knife from the sheath on his side.