Page 109 of Kill Me Again: Psychics

The conversation stopped after that while I got down to business. I watched Baxter’s face while I sucked his cock, drinking in every single gasp and moan that spilled from his lips as I used every ounce of skill I possessed.

I paused halfway through to pull my trousers down far enough that I could take my cock out, coordinating the bob of my head with the movement of my hand. If I didn’t make myself come, Baxter would feel obliged to rectify that, and I was deadly serious about him not doing anything but lie there.

“Close,” Baxter said after a short while, his good hand settling on top of my head. “Don’t stop.”

I slid my mouth off his cock to give his balls some attention, teasing his hole with a saliva-slicked finger at the same time. I might have protested against fucking him, but there were other ways to stimulate his prostate. He released a pent-up groan as I slid a digit inside him, curling it slightly to locate the nub of slightly raised flesh.

“Yes,” he panted. “Yes.”

I slid my mouth back over his cock and took him deeper into my throat, abandoning my cock to combine stimulation of his prostate with lengthy sucks that had him arching off the bed.

“Lake, I’m going to…” I ignored the warning and kept up both motions, way past the point where I might have pulled off and finished him with my hand. I wanted to swallow his cum. If he’d fallen off the roof today, I would never have gotten the chance, and that would have been a crime.

I took him even deeper, and he convulsed, shooting a load down the back of my throat. I swallowed every drop and then licked him clean. Only then did I sit up and resume stroking my cock. Baxter watched me from beneath hooded eyelids, his cheeks flushed from the orgasm, and his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asked.

“Yeah.” My hand moved faster, the orgasm so damn close.

“I love you, Lake Larson.”

That was it. I’d had dirty talk trigger an orgasm before, but never words of love. Yet, it was ten times hotter than any dirty talk, sending me instantaneously past the point of no return. The world receded, Baxter laughing softly when I finally came back to myself and opened my eyes to find his chest splattered with cum.

“That was hot,” he said.

A tear escaped, and I dashed it away.

Baxter pulled me on top of him, ignoring my protests about his bruising and insisting he wouldn’t break. I buried my face in his shoulder and gave in to the surge of emotion.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” I said after a while, when the tears kept coming and I couldn’t get them to stop.

Baxter stroked my hair. “Shit day. Stress. Peril. Relief. Orgasm. Love.”

Yeah, I guess that list summed it up. It would probably be weird if I hadn’t had an emotional reaction to it. “You’re not crying.”

“I’m drugged up to the eyeballs. You want some?”

I laughed, and that made me cry again.