Holding My Breath. AM Hartnett
stop talking. I’ll do what you say.’
‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ God, did it have to bite so much to say it out loud? ‘I really shouldn’t have done that, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.’
He took her hand, too quickly for her to draw back, and closed it around the crest of his erection. ‘You can let me do it again. You’ve paid for two hours, and you’ve barely used one. You might as well.’
It struck her how genuine and boyish he seemed now when he smiled. There was just the hint of the scoundrel at the corner of his mouth, but otherwise he simply looked pleased as he used her hand, slicked by his precome, to jerk himself.
It was impossible to resist. His magnetism was much too powerful. What was left of her common sense packed its bags and took off and, just like she’d never had reservations at all, Molly squeezed down.
‘Tricky boy.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
That smirk shimmered on his mouth, but was gone again as she kneaded inch after inch.
‘You got yourself all worked up and now you want me to take care of it.’ She twisted her head around and glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on the table. ‘I suppose I can spare a couple more minutes. The damage is done already.’
Part of her wondered if she had gone mental, jerking off a gigolo she was paying to leave the premises, but as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, Molly realised that this was one part of sex she had forgotten about, forgotten that she adored: watching a man as his orgasm built and built.
It had been a year and a half since she’d done anything with a partner that didn’t need rechargeable batteries, and the arse-end of her marital sex life wouldn’t have won any gold medals. Lying dormant for all this time had been this compulsion to see what she was doing to him written on a lover’s face.
And this one, well, he was holding nothing back. Eyes closed, mouth slack save for when he pursed his lips to gather moisture, the sound of pleasure poured out of him like he was a faucet she’d turned on. Regardless of how good he’d been with that tongue, his need for release was something that had no price tag.
Intending only to spit into her palm so she could work him a little harder, Molly leaned down. His hand instantly landed on her neck, the pressure urging her mouth closer to his cock. She turned to stone in her resistance, and he immediately relaxed his grip and lifted his head.
‘Sorry, I –’
Molly simply released him, and dropped to her knees before him.
‘I must be out of my mind,’ she murmured, and flashed him a smile as she grasped his cock and thrust forward. ‘I must be out of my fucking mind.’
A deep line formed between his eyes as she took hold of his cock at the balls, then softened once she closed her lips around that hot crest. His head wobbled, as though he was torn between the urge to resume his passive pose and his desire to watch her.
She held his gaze as she mouthed him, and when he let out a bubbling laugh she couldn’t help but return it. ‘What?’
‘I like you,’ he replied, the last word hitching as she dragged her tongue through the moisture oozing from the groove. ‘I like you, and it just occurred to me why I like you. You’re just like me, in a way.’
Molly licked her palm, then jerked the soft skin around his shaft. ‘Explain.’
‘You put on the same costume I do: the hair sleeked and flattened, the smoky eyes, the red lips and the matching nails. Men see you walking through the lobby while they’re sitting at the bar and they picture you like this, on your knees and sucking their dicks. It’s good business. It keeps them spending their money on the property, and it keeps them coming back. You and I both sell sex, but in different mediums.’
He was wrong. Maybe once upon a time she’d dressed and painted to attract the opposite sex, but those days were over. The slim skirts and perfect make-up were for the woman looking back at her in the mirror and no one else. The desire she wanted was her own; because it made her feel good to see that on the surface she was in complete control.
And yet the more she thought about it, she liked what he had said. She liked the comparison he’d made. That person she became every morning when she put on her face, raised the hem of her skirt just a few inches and never buttoned herself completely, so as to leave a little shadow of cleavage. He’d seen himself in her, and he’d used it to strip her down.
Molly took a mouthful, deeper and deeper until she could no longer hold his gaze. As she lifted her head she sucked him hard, and chuckled as he sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth.
She pushed up onto her knees and cradled the length between her tits. Quinn chuckled. His expression more victorious than smug, he tucked his hands behind his head and stretched his legs out around her.
‘Make me come on your tits.’
‘Are you reading me? That’s what I think you want by doing this?’
He gave a little shrug. ‘No, I thought we were doing what I wanted now, and I want to come on your tits.’
If he had asked her again what she wanted, by now her answer would have been for him to push her down onto the carpet and pump away until she no longer felt the need to be filled up.
As she wrapped her hand around his cock and bent her head to suckle him, she knew that she could still ask – no, tell him what she wanted, and he’d give it to her. And now, even though her cunt dripped fresh for a hard fuck, what she wanted was to give him what he wanted. He’d transformed his want into hers.
This time, when he cupped the back of her head, she closed her eyes with a moan and worked every inch into her throat, then joined her other hand to the first.
‘God, yes, that’s good,’ he expelled in a low rumble, and as she drew back he lifted his hips and pushed down.
She took him again, and again and again as he rocked upwards. She still sucked him, still squelched that hot length between two palms slicked by saliva and precome, but he drove her with his thrusts and filthy words.
‘That mouth. Jesus, that pretty red mouth. More. Faster. Suck me harder.’ He twisted her hair in his hand like she had done to him and drove over her tongue. ‘Come on, Molly, you can do better than that.’
Even though his words were broken by the huff and puff of trying to keep his breath, he still managed to run his mouth. His voice had taken on a mocking tone that spurred her on.
With his grip on her becoming more precarious, Molly took charge. She became his little sex toy, rocking up and down on her knees and bobbing her head to meet his thrusts, all the while tugging the soft, slick skin around his shaft.
He finally lost his words, instead spitting out frantic, nonsensical, sounds. He dropped his hands to his sides. A quick glance told her this wasn’t an act of submission. He clenched the sofa cushion between his fists; if he had been holding her head he would have torn her hair from the roots, or at least choked her.
Molly took him balls deep one last time, then sucked him hard as she slowly withdrew until there was only the tip resting on her tongue. She smiled up at him as she swirled her tongue over the smooth head, then squeezed down on him.
‘If you want to come on my tits, you could at least be a gentleman and watch,’ she murmured.
Wild blue eyes flashed at her as she took him in the crevice between her breasts once more and cupped his balls. Beneath her hands she felt the eruption begin, the mad tattoo of blood rushing through veins. She rolled her shoulders and pushed up, thrusting his dick into the tight valley she had created, and nearly laughed with elation as he lurched forward with the first hot spurt.
Molly tipped her head back and let him rain over her. It had been ages since she felt so dirty. She bowed her head and let the last drops ooze onto