Page 58 of Twisted Control

Drew pulls my underwear off, hooks my legs over his shoulders and buries his face between them. The first long, firm stroke of his tongue makes my hips jerk off the bed. He groans, the sound vibrating against me as he licks and sucks with filthy dedication.

He works me perfectly. My hands fly to his hair, gripping tight as pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside me. I’m right there, right on the edge, thighs shaking around his head, a broken moan tearing from my throat.

And then he stops.

He pulls back just enough to press a soft, almost tender kiss to my inner thigh, his breath hot against my soaked skin.

I let out a frustrated whimper, hips chasing his mouth.

“Not yet, baby.”

He pulls back with a dark, satisfied smirk, leaving me aching and frustrated on the edge. Then he rolls onto his back beside me, casual as anything, and he shoves his trousers down his hips and kicks them off, freeing his hard cock.

It slaps against his stomach, thick and heavy.

Drew leans back against the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, looking every inch the arrogant man he is. His eyes lock on mine, dark and challenging.

“Your turn.”

He wraps a hand around the thick base of his cock and strokes it once, veins standing out under his grip.

I hold his stare as I wrap my fingers around him. He’s rock-hard, pulsing hot in my palm, the head already slick. Heat floods through me. I love seeing him like this—his chest rising fast, jaw tight, completely focused on me.

I lean down and drag my tongue slowly up the underside of his shaft. His abs flex hard under my other hand. When I reach the head, I swirl my tongue around it, tasting the salt of him, before taking him deep into my mouth.

Drew lets out a low, guttural groan, his hand sliding into my hair.

I take him deeper, working him with my mouth and hand in slow, wet strokes. Every time I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, his hips twitch like he’s barely holding back from fucking my throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “You look good like that.”

The praise makes me bolder. I relax my throat and take him even deeper. The broken sound he makes goes straight between my legs. His thighs tense beneath me, muscles rock-hard under my palms.

He lets me set the pace for a while, eyes heavy-lidded, watching every movement with raw hunger. But I feel him getting closer, his breathing ragged, hips starting to roll up to meet my mouth.

Suddenly his grip tightens on my hair and he pulls me off with a wet pop, breathing hard.

“Any more of that,” he pants, voice rough, “and I’m coming down your throat.”

Before I can respond, Drew flips me onto my stomach, grips my hips, and yanks me up onto my knees so my chest is pressed into the mattress. I’m completely exposed, ass in the air, entirely at his mercy.

He reaches for a condom on the nightstand. The thought flickers—why does he even keep those here?—but it vanishes when he kneels behind me. One large hand smooths down my spine as he spreads my thighs wider with his knee, opening me completely.

He rolls on the condom, then drags the thick head of his cock over my clit, teasing until I’m pushing back against him, shameless and desperate. In one long stroke, he pushes inside.

The stretch steals my breath.

At this angle he feels impossibly thick and overwhelming. Every inch of him drags against that perfect spot inside me, pushing me dangerously close to the edge already.

“Fuck,” I gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets.

Drew doesn’t give me time to adjust. He starts fucking me hard, one hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip. Each brutal thrust rocks me forward, the slap of skin on skin filling the room.

I’m embarrassingly close already. Just the relentless fullness of his cock has me trembling, clenching around him.

“I’m—oh god⁠—”

I shatter.