didn’t warn her when he started pushing back
in. She tensed and took him, took him like the good girl she wanted to be. He
didn’t go all the way back this time, but worked about halfway, first in, then
out slowly. He wouldn’t last long, but he wanted to draw this moment out as
long as possible. Her mouth was beautifully tight and warm, and her tongue had
marvelous talents for teasing out his groans whenever he pulled back far enough
to let her.
The next time he wanted to force her to deep throat him, he
didn’t go slowly. He held her head in both of his hands and penetrated her
mouth in one thrust, back, back, all the way back, until she started gagging
and fighting, overcome by the size of him. He moaned and fucked her mouth deep
like that, pulling out only an inch before sundering her again and again. She
whimpered and moaned and it felt like fire and ice and explosions.
“Mia,” he panted, “Oh, Mia. For me you swallow. Do you
understand? For me you always swallow, and no one else.” He thrust into her
throat and her muffled cries answered him. “Take it, Mia, my good girl, take it
all. Take it.”
He grunted, pulled almost fully from her mouth and
penetrated her one last time, all the way back, and the dams burst. He held her
head and ground himself against her mouth as he came spurting hot into her
throat. Her little throat worked hard to keep up, swallowing and swallowing and
licking like a girl starved, until he worried he might suffocate her and slowly
pulled out, softening as he slid across the flat of her silky tongue.
She coughed and fell to her hands, her whole body shaking
with the physical effort he’d put her through and he was overwhelmed with the
desire to care for her. He scooped her up like a child and she let him, weak as
a kitten in his arms and curled her on the bed.
He left her there for a moment, went to the bathroom and
started running hot water and lavender bubbles into her bath. When it was
nearly full he returned to her, picked her up, held her sticky, sweaty body
against his and carried her into the dimmed bathroom. He stepped up the stairs,
and descended into the bath water with her clutched protectively against his
chest.
They sank together into the bubbles and he killed the water
when it was full. She was so tired, his beautiful girl, that she hardly stirred
but to sigh and murmur pleasantly. It was a pleasure to wash her, to clean her
of the residue of the night and make her sweet and clean and only his once
more.
He held her in the tub a long time, ankles twisted together,
her arms loosely around him and his tight around her. After he washed her hair,
he stroked her face and kissed her awake.
“I have something I need to confess to you, Mia. My Mia.
Open your eyes. Let me see you.”
Her lashes fluttered and she smiled lovelost up to him.
“Damian,” she murmured.
“Have you ever wondered why our table at the café is always
empty when we arrive? As if it were meant to be?”
She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “I’ve
wondered. I figured you just have amazing luck or you paid people to leave.”
He grinned and held her chin in his fingers and kissed her
mouth. She was exhausted but pliant and so eager to please.
“I make my own luck, Mia. I bought the café months ago and
my only requests were that our table be kept free and the woman they hired to
bake the house specials be given a raise after impressing upon her the
importance of making you exotic and beautiful breakfasts.”
Mia gasped, her sharp mind working through months of
breakfasts, searching for clues to confirm what he told her as truth. A blush worked
its way up her throat where it colored her cheeks prettily. “Damian, but why?”
“Because you savor the world, Mia, every piece of it, and it
is my pleasure to be at your side when you do. And also because…because
breakfasts with you are my favorite moment of the day. I wake up in the morning
and can’t get to you soon
in. She tensed and took him, took him like the good girl she wanted to be. He
didn’t go all the way back this time, but worked about halfway, first in, then
out slowly. He wouldn’t last long, but he wanted to draw this moment out as
long as possible. Her mouth was beautifully tight and warm, and her tongue had
marvelous talents for teasing out his groans whenever he pulled back far enough
to let her.
The next time he wanted to force her to deep throat him, he
didn’t go slowly. He held her head in both of his hands and penetrated her
mouth in one thrust, back, back, all the way back, until she started gagging
and fighting, overcome by the size of him. He moaned and fucked her mouth deep
like that, pulling out only an inch before sundering her again and again. She
whimpered and moaned and it felt like fire and ice and explosions.
“Mia,” he panted, “Oh, Mia. For me you swallow. Do you
understand? For me you always swallow, and no one else.” He thrust into her
throat and her muffled cries answered him. “Take it, Mia, my good girl, take it
all. Take it.”
He grunted, pulled almost fully from her mouth and
penetrated her one last time, all the way back, and the dams burst. He held her
head and ground himself against her mouth as he came spurting hot into her
throat. Her little throat worked hard to keep up, swallowing and swallowing and
licking like a girl starved, until he worried he might suffocate her and slowly
pulled out, softening as he slid across the flat of her silky tongue.
She coughed and fell to her hands, her whole body shaking
with the physical effort he’d put her through and he was overwhelmed with the
desire to care for her. He scooped her up like a child and she let him, weak as
a kitten in his arms and curled her on the bed.
He left her there for a moment, went to the bathroom and
started running hot water and lavender bubbles into her bath. When it was
nearly full he returned to her, picked her up, held her sticky, sweaty body
against his and carried her into the dimmed bathroom. He stepped up the stairs,
and descended into the bath water with her clutched protectively against his
chest.
They sank together into the bubbles and he killed the water
when it was full. She was so tired, his beautiful girl, that she hardly stirred
but to sigh and murmur pleasantly. It was a pleasure to wash her, to clean her
of the residue of the night and make her sweet and clean and only his once
more.
He held her in the tub a long time, ankles twisted together,
her arms loosely around him and his tight around her. After he washed her hair,
he stroked her face and kissed her awake.
“I have something I need to confess to you, Mia. My Mia.
Open your eyes. Let me see you.”
Her lashes fluttered and she smiled lovelost up to him.
“Damian,” she murmured.
“Have you ever wondered why our table at the café is always
empty when we arrive? As if it were meant to be?”
She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “I’ve
wondered. I figured you just have amazing luck or you paid people to leave.”
He grinned and held her chin in his fingers and kissed her
mouth. She was exhausted but pliant and so eager to please.
“I make my own luck, Mia. I bought the café months ago and
my only requests were that our table be kept free and the woman they hired to
bake the house specials be given a raise after impressing upon her the
importance of making you exotic and beautiful breakfasts.”
Mia gasped, her sharp mind working through months of
breakfasts, searching for clues to confirm what he told her as truth. A blush worked
its way up her throat where it colored her cheeks prettily. “Damian, but why?”
“Because you savor the world, Mia, every piece of it, and it
is my pleasure to be at your side when you do. And also because…because
breakfasts with you are my favorite moment of the day. I wake up in the morning
and can’t get to you soon
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