Isabella
Blake is waiting downstairs, combating boredom while sprawled across the couch, cigar in hand, counting how long we're all going to take to finish up and head to the club. The bitter tang is strong in the air...maybe he's occupied and wouldn't mind a couple minutes with the comfort of his cigarette. And Aya and Seb―they won't be out for a good ten minutes. I can have a lot of fun in the span of ten minutes.
I stomp over to the door, the clack of my heels against the floorboard resonant, and twist open the knob. Before I invite myself into the confines that store lustful promises, I let him react. Maybe he doesn't want me in there. The band of his tracksuit snaps.
"Over here, beautiful."
The sight before me is a temptation. A hand has slipped beneath his pants, moving gently, and the other is rested upon his thigh. His chin is slightly lifted, and he smirks as he says wearily, "I couldn't help myself. You just look so...delicious. I'd love your help."
His strokes speed with my every step towards him.
"You want me to work for your sake?" I reach him, and as I look down, I can't avert my eyes from the movements playing under his tracksuit. "What if I just walk out?"
A deep, lazy chuckle escapes him, and that just makes me more inclined to rip open his pants and suck him off. But I won't feed him a bite of my desperation. Not yet.
"You can do whatever you want. You've already done enough by looking so perfect, and now I have a marvelous image in my mind to get me started." A glance at his lap. "An image that's already got me started, sorry. Will you stay here and continue looking pretty for me?"
One of those treacherous tendencies of mine conquers my limbs and takes me onto his lap. He gasps and works faster, his focus jumping between my breasts and face. I hold onto his shoulders, and they become tense on my touch.
"Show me what's under your dress," he exhales.
I'd walked out of Aya's room with a clear plan put in place. I wanted to give Andreas a clear view of my body, show him exactly what I wasn't going to give him, strut past without a second glance, and engage in some dirty activity at the club. Then I'd return home with smeared make-up, a rumpled dress, swollen lips, and walk into his room, heavy with the product of lust.
All of it has gone to shreds. I draw my dress up above my hips, watching as he's absorbed by every inch of revealed skin and moves his hand faster with the view of me in my thin black panties. I set my elbows on his chest, wrap my hands around his neck.
His gaze wanders around my appearance―my face, the opening of my dress, my cunt hidden beneath a lace that's becoming soggy. He's groaning as he fucks himself, masturbating below me, using my body for his pleasure, and I'm enjoying it. If Jasper were in his spot, I'd jump off him and puke in the sink. He never gave me anything, and from Andreas, I've already had the two best finger fucks of my life.
When he gasps, struck by the beginning of his release, he pulls his hand from underneath his pants and takes my hips, squeezing. "Get on the floor," he pants. "I want to see how pretty your mouth looks wrapped around my cock, and if I like what I see, which I know I will, then I'll put our toys away and I won't be using them to keep you here for tonight."
"What if I want to use them?"
"Oh, you clueless girl. You seem to be presuming that it'll be a friendly experience for you. Come on. On your knees." Whacking my hand across his face would be a suitable exertion for demonstrating how not-calm I'm feeling right now. I'd do it if I wasn't aching to taste him.
His hands move up my body as I lower myself to the floor and kneel before him. My own immediately launch themselves to his inner thighs, waiting for him to uncover that hard, long muscle that's prodding at his tracksuit. When he merely sits there, reposed on the toilet seat, watching me with a smug smile, arms dangling on his sides, I shuffle in my spot, impatient.
I resort to creeping my fingers up his thighs and yanking down his waistband. A chunky cock that's just as intimidating as his body flings out. I wrap my hand around the base and gulp down a lump of terror. Fucking seems like it'd be a painfully enjoyable experience with only half of him.
"Such a nervous little thing," he chuckles with a pinprick of weariness, and the noise returns my attention to his gorgeous face. His thumb swipes over my bottom lip. "Don't you worry. I'm gonna fit nicely into this perfect mouth."
He takes his palms to his thighs, wordlessly imploring while I rise on my knees and drop a thick portion of saliva on his tip. Another spit and I'm feeling him, having my hair gently tucked behind my ears as his fingers find my loose strands and he puts on a faint smile. He's sprawled, legs wide open and back leaning. Seeing him naked would be amusing as of right now. Why can't I see his tattoos? I want to see his tattoos.
I bend down and run my tongue up his length, the veins soft on my skin. He intakes a sharp breath of air and sighs lustfully when I play with his tip, tasting it. This is the closest I'm going to get to playing with toys. He's my first plaything for tonight.
My palm remains encircling his base as I bring him into my mouth. A gasp falls from his lips, and he moves his hand to the nape of my neck, slides it up, and clutches my hair.
The minor pain straining my scalp urges me to fill myself up. I bob and take half of him inside me, my hand twisting up and down the bottom of his cock, moving in a steady rhythm with my head as I moan with the feel of my tongue along him. He groans and tugs at my hair harder, guides me lower, slightly lifts his hips before giving me a quick break.
High on the taste of him, my mouth hangs open in a wet, lazy smile.
"Oh, baby," he breathes giddily. "Are you having fun playing around with my cock?"
I nod frantically, buzzing with the need to continue. Planting my hands on his thighs lets me take all of him. A few seconds of gagging with him reaching deep inside my throat and I'm pulling back out, panting while strips of saliva dribble from my mouth. I don't get much time before my head proceeds dipping unceasingly and I'm back to gripping and caressing.
He releases my hair and instead gathers it behind me, making the job a heap easier. I manage to go faster without any interruption except for a handful of chokes from forcing myself to defeat the thickness packing in my mouth and dropping to taste all of him.
"Fuck. You're on your knees but still looking like a princess. My cock feels like a fucking holy place with you―oh, shit." I run my mouth down and seal it on his balls, stroking his wet mess of a cock as I suck and slurp and moan. When I come back up, I leave my hand at his balls, massaging. The sound of his jagged groans...Hot, heavy, and arousing.
Every bob and every effort is satiating. It's a new side of fulfillment that I hadn't ever experienced with Jasper. I'm driven to move faster, shove Andreas inside me, gag on him.
That orgasmic build-up inside of him is starting to surface. He throws back his chin and lightly grips the top of my head, indicating clearly that release is imminent. Batting my lashes and swallowing him with graceful drags is what does it, and as he groans aloud, thighs quaking beneath my palms, his cum spurts into my mouth.
I draw myself up with a huge shot of it over my tongue and drooling from my mouth. I spit it out before gently fondling his cock, the white substance and my saliva making a mess all over him, and swallow the remnants. I'd get up and fix my makeup if he didn't reach down and pull me onto his lap.
"My thighs are going to get all―"
"Your mouth is fucking remarkable. You look gorgeous with a dirty face." His thumb wipes across my lips and brings the excess of his release to the top of my dress.
"I'm going to have a cum stain on my clothes!" I try scrubbing it off with a finger and recall that my hands are just as wet. I worsen it. "You know what, I'm not even going to try changing. It's not like anyone will know what it is. I'll be moving too much and―"
I stop when I notice that he's glowering at me. He presses his fingers into my ass, his expression steering towards livid. I drop my hands when he speaks with a chilling, low depth to his voice.
"You're still going?"
I nod my head and sense the pressure around my ass grow. A mischievous feeling that I frequently encounter encourages me to charge at his vulnerable state, feed into his anger and watch it grow and double. I give in to it, let that tricksy part of me guide my next words.
"I'm going to go fuck somewhere private."
Before I can face his reaction, I hop off his lap and hurry out the bathroom. It feels like I dropped a bomb in there and am letting it detonate. I don't stay and wait for anything to unleash, though. I barely fix myself up and race through the front door.