As I peeled down Paddy’s briefs, the air seemed to thicken between us. His cock spilled free—thick, heavy, and veined, resting in a dense, dark bush that made my breath catch. I stared, mesmerised, the sheer weight of him making my mouth go dry and my body buzz with need.
“Eyes down,” he grunted.
I obeyed instantly, lowering my gaze to the base of his body, to the curve of his hips and the heavy hang beneath him. The scent hit me like a wave—salty, heady, unmistakably male. I leaned in, lips parting, and began to press soft, reverent kisses along his inner thigh, working my way closer to where the heat of him radiated.
“Use your tongue,” he said, voice low and firm.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I licked slowly, deliberately, dragging my tongue through the sweat gathered along his groin, tasting every inch he offered. The moan escaped me before I could stop it, a deep, breathy sound that sent a vibration through my chest and into him.
His hand gripped the back of my head, thick fingers curling into my hair. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Don’t stop.”
I tried to take him in my mouth, desperate to feel more, to serve him how he clearly deserved—but he was too thick, too long, and I could only manage part of him before I pulled back, gasping, my lips wet with spit and frustration.
Paddy let out a rough breath. Then, with both hands, he took control.
“Relax your throat,” he said. “Let me guide you.”
He pressed forward slowly, the heat of him stretching my lips wider, inch by inch. I felt every pulse, every vein, the deep weight of him commanding all of me. When my body tensed, he slowed—but didn’t stop. His fingers dug in slightly as he coaxed me further.
“Breathe through it.”
When I finally felt his body press against my face—his thick hair brushing my nose—I knew I’d taken him completely.
He held me there, not moving, letting me adjust to the size of him. My eyes watered, throat burning, but there was pride swelling in my chest, knowing I was giving him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I tilted my gaze up through watery eyes. He was staring down at me with a look that made my heart stutter—pride, lust, dominance all wrapped into one. He started moving again, slowly at first, then deeper, each motion deliberate, controlled, like he was claiming me one thrust at a time.
Caught in the haze, I brought my hand down to my own aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. But Paddy noticed.
He pulled back and landed a sharp smack against my cheek—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to shock. I gasped, stunned, until he spoke again, voice hard and final.
“You don’t touch yourself unless I say so. Understood?”
I nodded, lips swollen, breath caught in my throat.
“Say it.”
“I—I understand.”
“Good boy.” |
