Page 18 of Ridin’ Dirty

This was a blowjob I didn’t want him to ever forget.

I licked him again then curled my fingers around his shaft and stroked him while I took one of his balls into my mouth. I sucked one and then the other, feeling it as he grew fully erect in my hand.

He was heavy—his cock long, thick, and perfectly proportioned to the rest of him. When he was ready, I didn’t shy away from taking him into my mouth, peering up at him as I did so. I couldn’t fit all of him, but I could tell right away what I could manage was more than satisfactory for the both of us.

I knew this because no sooner had I wrapped my lips around him than his fingers were tangled in my hair, a low, rumbly growl of pleasure sounding from someplace deep inside of him.

So deep, the reverberation of the sound sent a shockwave through my entire body.

I moaned, suddenly unbelievably turned on, and anxious to give him my all.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

One word.

One breath.

But it was all the praise I needed.

I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him harder, and he made a noise that sounded almost desperate—like whatever hold he had on his sanity was slipping. Feeling both emboldened and victorious, I didn’t let up, determined to get him there.

Then his grip in my hair tightened, and I felt it as he lost control. I recognized the shift when he held me still and took over. Rather than panic at his unmistakable, unhinged prowess, I gave in and let go. Instinctively, I relaxed my jaw, and he cursed under his breath as he began to pump his hips.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he ground out, thrusting harder. “Fuckin’ prettier than I thought it would be, these damn lips—fuck,” he muttered.

He hit the back of my throat, making me gag, but I concentrated on keeping my shit together, ignoring the burn of my eyes while focusing on breathing through my nose. I grabbed hold of the back of one of his thighs with one hand, reaching beneath the skirt of my dress with the other. I needed more. It was too much. The taste of him. The smell of him. The power of him. All that combined with a longing I’d been battling for hours.

Yeah, it was too much.

The throbbing between my legs was unbearable.

I was tracing my fingers along the front of my thong, with every intention of moving it out of my way, when Pistol stopped, his grip in my hair tighter still—the bite of his tug causing my scalp to burn.

“No,” he growled.

Actually growled.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

In spite of my heaving chest, rising and falling from the air I was trying desperately to take in through my nose as I battled my arousal, I paused and obeyed.

“You’ll take my dick, then you’ll swallow my cum. I’ll eat your pussy and return the favor. I like what I taste, I’ll take more. That’s how this goes. The only way it goes. Hear me?”

Seeing as his dick was still in my mouth, the hold he had of my hair making it near impossible for me to move, I did the only thing I could. I extracted my hand from between my legs, slid it around the back of his opposite thigh, gazed up at him, and swallowed around the tip of his cock.

He grunted, jolting his hips slightly before he smirked down at me and mumbled, “Yeah. You hear me.”

I dug my fingertips into his legs, anxious for him to get on with it, then swirled my tongue around him.

This earned me another growl, which made me ache. Then I forgot all about the ache as he started to fuck my mouth. The noises I made as he kept at me were completely unavoidable. There was something about the way he held me. The way he stared down at me. The way he seemed completely enamored by my painted lips around his hard length.

He was lost in me, and the reality of it made me high.

When I whimpered, it wasn’t in pain or frustration or even impatience—it was in desperation. I was so wet, I could feel my arousal slipping down my inner thighs.

I wanted him to come.

I wanted to swallow him.