neverinadream

“This is bad. This is bad. This is really, really bad,” Cassie mutters under her breath, catching the whimper in the back of her throat and swallowing it down as you carve a path down her neck, feeling her pulse flutter beneath your lipstick-smudged lips.

“So tell me to stop and I will,” you tell her, the subtle curve of your mouth imprinting onto her neck, before continuing to kiss down the column of her throat when a refusal doesn't come. She whimpers as you lick, suck and brandish her with your mark.

You had her pressed up against the small sink, the faint smell of the whiskey Cassie had been drinking and her floral scented perfume filling your nose. Her camisole had been pulled up to make room for the hand you had pushed down her pants, applying pressure to the damp patch that had formed on her simple grey cotton undies.

God, she would've picked something sexier if she had known she was going to have the babysitter's hand down them tonight.

“I shouldn't want this as much as I do,” she says, forcing herself to look over at the door, a glimpse of the lock in place calming her anxiety of you being caught together, “you're Harrison's babysitter.”

“Good observation, Dr McKay,” you smirk, teasing out a soft gasp as you push harder on the wet spot, pushing it between her folds and feeling her clit through the much-loved but thinning material. Her hips jerk as you do it again. “All of this is perfectly legal, if that's what worries you,” you hum, toying with the waistband with your thumb, running it across from side to side, “I'm twenty-two.”

“Surprisingly, your age isn't the thing that matters here.”

“So what is it, sweetheart?" You tilt your head to the side, swiping your tongue across your lips. Her eyes follow the movement and you smile. “What's gonna stop me from making you come right here?”

“You're Harrison's babysitter,” Cassie repeats, bracing her hand on the edge of the sink, her knees buckling as you run your knuckle over her panties, tracing the line of her slit. “He can't find out about this.”

“Well, luckily, I don't spill all my secrets to your kid,” you chuckle, nudging the strap of her top and kissing the skin underneath. You repeat the same with the other side, Cassie's breath hitching as you remove your hand from the front of her pants, using both hands to push the straps off her shoulders. She has no bra on and you had been looking at the outline of her nipples for the last few minutes of your conversation before pulling her into the cramped toilet. “Tonight I'm not Harrison's babysitter; tonight I'm just some girl in a bar, who was interested in you enough to buy you a drink.”

Cassie closes her eyes and mulls it all over, subtracting and adding in the pros and cons, trying to figure out a solution that doesn't end up extremely messy. You were young - something she had criticised Chad for in the past - and her kid's babysitter, but you were also both adults, capable enough of making your own decisions. Finally, she nods, opening her eyes to find you smiling.

“Good.” You exhale a breath, steadying your hands as you ease down her top, licking your lips as you see her for the first time. Gone were the nights of you touching yourself to the memory of that green swimsuit she wore to Harrison's pool party, now you had the real thing. “I've been dying to get my mouth on these pretty tits.”

A dark blush creeps up Cassie's neck.

You roll your thumb over her left nipple and blow hot air over the other, just enough to tease her.

Her head rolls back as you drop your mouth around her nipple, flicking and dragging your tongue across it, making her whine out into the small bathroom. Thankfully, the music was loud, and only anyone standing right outside the door would have heard her. You suck hard before pulling off and dragging your mouth across to the other, doing the same.

“That's it,” Cassie encourages, holding tight to the back of your neck, “just like that.”

“Quickly changed your tone from a few minutes ago,” you tease, much preferring the praise coming from the older woman's lips. You cup her pussy through her jeans and she jerks her hips. “Want me to touch you?”

She nods her head enthusiastically.

You sink your teeth into her nipple and she yelps. “Say it.”

The blush on her cheeks darkens. “Touch me.”

“Where?” You pepper a kiss across the top of her breasts, her skin soft and faintly smelling of soap. Just touching her makes you dizzy. “Here?” You kiss her left nipple and give the right a pinch, Cassie whimpering at the fleeting sharp pain that fizzles up her spine.

“No,” she whimpers, grinding herself into your hand, “there.”

The corner of your mouth curves in a lopsided smirk Cassie would've wanted to slap off others, but on you, it was incredibly sexy.

Sinking onto your knees, you kiss a path down her chest, pushing up her top so you can get to her tummy, which flutters with every soft touch of affection. You meet her eyes as your hands meet the waistband of her jeans, and she nods, giving you the permission you were looking for, before pulling them down her legs. Her underwear goes with them and you can't help but moan out at the sight of her pussy. You lick your lips, mouth already watering and needing to taste her.

Your thumb brushes over the patch of dark hair, short and trimmed. “She's so pretty,” you mumble, drawing a path with your thumb down her slit. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck it clean, Cassie whimpering as she watches you. “I'm gonna have so much fun with her,” you say, marking your words out like a promise.

Cassie braces her hands on the edge of the sink. “It's been a while.” She looks almost embarrassed to admit it.

You raise your eyebrows, head tilting to the left. “Since what? Since someone made you come? Or since you've been with a woman?”

She lowers her eyes away from you. “Both.”

“Don't worry, I'll be gentle,” you tell her, parting her pink pussy lips with both thumbs, “the first time.” You add in a wink making her laugh.

Tongue sticking out, you drag it from her hole to her clit, feeling it pulse against you with first contact. Her taste consumes you and the hunger rips from your chest as a hard groan. You do it again, this time wrapping your lips around her clit as you reach the bundle of nerves, sucking slowly and pulling off with an audible pop. Her back arches, lips parting to moan, as you take her back into your mouth, sucking vigorously, and you grin, Cassie needing to rip her hand away from the sink to grab the back of your head.

“Just like that,” she cries, rolling her name around your tongue, moaning it loudly as you continue your assault. You chuckle and it jolts her body like she was being hit with a thousand sparks of electricity. “More,” she begs, licking her lips.

“More what?” You kiss her mound, skirting your hand up her soft thigh and squeezing her hip. “Want my fingers too?” Cassie nods. “Greedy,” you mumble playfully, tapping your full hand against her cunt. It's a soft slap that shocks her at first, but the tingle of pain fizzles quickly to pleasure.

Coating your fingers in her slick, you keep your eyes focused on Cassie, watching her cheeks darken in colour and her eyes roll as her head tips back, as you push them in, keeping your movements deliberately slow for the first few strokes. Her walls are clenching your fingers hard by the time you've latched your mouth back onto her sex, your tongue lapping at her clit with quick flicks.

“You weren't lying, huh?” You tease between drags of your tongue, her taste bursting in your mouth as more of her drips down your fingers. You lick it up off the back of your fingers and moan, shoving them back deeper, all the way to your knuckles. “It really has been a long time since someone treated her properly,” you purr, grinning and flicking your eyes up to find her looking down at you, “good thing I'm here now, isn't it?”

Cassie nods. “Yes.” Her hips jerk, grinding herself onto your mouth. “Shit, that feels so good,” she mewls, holding you tighter, her nails scratching and digging into your head, the ache in her growing rapidly, begging to be released, “gonna come." She barks out a laugh, shaking her head a little in disbelief. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come.”

“Come for me, baby," the words melt into her, "make a pretty mess all over my fingers.” Your name pierces the air, drowned out by the thumping of the music. “I want you dripping down my hand,” you work your fingers faster, curling to meet the spongy spot, her pussy squeezing them numb as she comes, “I want to be able to lick it all off.”

She shakes and shudders, her body folding forwards as she holds your head against her body. That was out of body experience, she was for sure of it.

Drawing out the last of her orgasm, you ease your fingers out, and suck them clean, making a show of licking up and between each finger. She's intoxicating. Addictive. And you were surely hooked.

“You're incredible,” you mumble, pulling her jeans and underwear up for her.

A short burst of laughter escapes her. “Shouldn't I be the one complimenting you?” She fixes her top, sliding the straps up over her shoulders. “Because that was…” Her voice trails off, the heat rushing to her face as she's unable to find the right words. She finally settles on, “amazing.”

You curl your fingers under her chin and open your mouth, but are cut off by three heavy thuds against the toilet door. “Come on!” A deeper voice shouts. “Some of us actually have to take a piss!”

Cassie bites her lip, stopping the laugh that you have no trouble letting out. “Yours?”

You nod, trying not to sound too eager, and grab her hand. “Let's go.”

“‘m sorry,” you slurred, still a little tipsy from the alcohol you had consumed tonight. One cocktail became three, and a few shots turned into seeking out some overpriced blow. The weed stashed back at your friend's dorm would've been fine for you, but their roommate was in the mood for something else, and you let them convince you into going along. But now you wished you hadn't, sitting in the back of Charlie's SUV, the taste of bile creeping up your throat. “I won't do it again,” you added for good measure, looking up at the rear view mirror, catching Charlie's eyes as they stared back, watching you from the front seat.

“You better not,” he grunts, one swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip.

He was your knight in shining armour tonight, called from the backseat of a cruiser, the cuffs tight and digging into your wrists. You had to beg the prick to let you make the call; apparently being the mayor's daughter didn't get you any ‘get out of jail free’ cards like you thought.

Or maybe those only worked for your brother.

“Was Cassie with you tonight?”

You shake your head. “She was with Jake.”

He tuts, flicking his eyes to the road, the wheel gradually turning as he takes you from one street and onto another. Jake was a good boy, a good student, wanted to go to med school one day, but Cassie was Charlie's only daughter - and his only kid - you had heard plenty of arguments through your high school years, muffled words filtering up through floorboards, about how no one was going to be good enough for his little girl.

“Are you going to tell my dad about this?” You ask, running your thumb mindlessly in circles against the seat belt.

He lets out a little laugh, mentally praising you for having the gall to ask such a question. “I probably should.”

The three words sobered you up instantly.

“Mr Reid-”

“Charlie,” he lightly corrects, eyes in the rear-view mirror now back on you.

“Charlie,” you say quietly, "please, don't tell my dad. He'll kill me for this.” His eyebrows perk up at your theatrics. “Not literally, obviously.” You nervously laugh, attempting and failing to play it off as a joke.

Charlie's black SUV comes to a stop and you glance out of the tinted window to see your parents’ townhome. The black iron rails were draped in fake spiderwebs, three pumpkins, all carved by your mother with the help of your nieces, were stacked perfectly by the bottom step, and a Halloween-themed wreath was pinned to the front door. All the windows were black, meaning your parents were most definitely asleep, but your stomach still twists uncomfortably. Who knows what punishment your dad would dish out? Your allowance? Gone, better start looking for a job. That trip you wanted to take during Winter break? Forget about it.

“It wasn't even my idea to buy the coke,” you desperately make your case, the seat belt snapping back as you unclip it, “It was Malia's; she didn't want to smoke any of Jordan's weed.” A heat blazes up your neck to settle on your cheeks. “I-I haven't…” Your voice trails off as you attempt to lie, but he pins you with a hard glare.

“A judge wouldn't have cared if it had been the Pope's idea, kid.”

He unclips his seat belt and turns to face you, his arm stretched out and holding onto the shoulder of the passenger seat. Your focus lingers for a second too long on his large hand, just long enough for Charlie to notice, and he follows your eyes as they slowly lower into your lap. He holds in a breath, your soft thighs poking out from beneath your mini skirt evoking no shame as he stares longer at your legs.

“You were dumb enough to get caught by an undercover cop,” he says a beat later, “even if I don't tell your dad, they still might blab about it to their buddies.”

Your eyes shot up to look at him, mouth parting on a silent gasp. “But you said-”

“I know what I said,” he cuts you off, his grip adjusting on the seat.

You wet your lips and he watched your tongue slip and slide slowly across. The cogs turned, metaphorical equations appeared in front of you, but there isn't a solution you can find to get yourself out of this. Your stomach twisted tighter and you collapsed your head back against the headrest.

“I'm royally fucked,” you whisper to yourself, the SUV's ceiling disappearing as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Charlie chuckles, the edges caressed with darkness. “You can get out of this.” He has your attention in less than a second. He turned his head away, hiding a mock frown. “But I'm not sure-”

“I'll do anything,” you interrupt, leaning forward, closing off some of the space between you. Desperate doesn't even begin to describe how you sound, the whiney breath and hitched noise in the back of your throat stiring his cock. “Please, Charlie, I'll do anything to make sure my dad doesn't find out.”

“Yeah?” A nod subtly jerks your head up and down. “Climb into the front seat,” he orders, adjusting his seat, giving you space to climb through. He tugs at his jeans, adjusting his semi-hard erection. “Clocks ticking,” he grunts, his tone harder, and it snapped you into motion, your skirt riding up as you climbed into the front seat.

You tug the sides of your mini skirt down, covering very little of your thighs. “What now?” You glance across - Charlie wasn't looking at you, just staring ahead, eyes on the street.

“Take my cock out.”

You blink twice, each flutter of your eyelashes deliberately slow. “Sorry?”

Turning, he now looked at you, his features stoic and dimly lit from the street lights. This version of Charlie was darker and one he worked hard to keep hidden over the years. “Take it out,” he repeats slowly, unbuckling his belt, starting you off.

You lean away, clasping your hands together to hide how they slightly trembled.

“You do this, kid, and I'll forget all about your little accident,” he marks it with air quotes, “but if you don't, the mayor's gonna find out his daughter's got a liking for coke.”

“Cassie's my best friend.”

“She is,” he bobs his head, nodding. He gets the implication you're trying to make, but deep down he doesn't care.

“I phoned you because-”

“Because you thought I could be your get out of jail free card,” Charlie snipes, his hand unfastening his jeans, working the zipper down, “but my favours come with a price, and now you either pay up, or you get out of the car.”

You look down at your hands now splayed out across your thighs; your nail polish had chipped at some point in the night.

His thumb touches your cheekbone as he reaches out and cups the side of your face turned away from him. It's gentle, done deliberately to soften you. “It's just one tiny thing, doll,” he murmurs, closing the gap. His lips graze your cheek as you turn further away from him. “What do you want more? For this to go away or for your dad to be disappointed? I know which one I would pick.”

“Cassie can't find out,” you whisper, turning your head a moment later, your eyes trained on his. They're dark and avoid of colour. It startles you, making you gasp. “She'll never talk to me again.”

There's a flash of pain in your eyes, the emotion you choose not to hide, and Charlie covers it with a kiss. Reluctantly, you kiss him back, moving your lips slowly. Your nails are scratching at your skin as your fingers curl, your hands acting on instinct on wanting to grab something, but you're not ready to touch him yet.

“It's okay,” he softly says, covering the back of your head with his hand, pulling you closer, “you don't gotta be shy with me.” Your hand slaps atop the hand creeping to the inner of your thighs. His eyes pour into yours, dark and intense. “I'll be gentle.”

He brings his mouth back down, making it hard for you to breathe as he stakes his claim. A whimper surprises you, filling the darkness of his SUV with a sound other than his hungry kisses, as he nips and grazes his teeth at your lip.

His hand escapes from under yours to force your legs apart, making enough room to slip under your skirt. He blows out a groan, his thumb pushing against the front of your panties and feeling lace.

“I bet she's really pretty,” he mutters, bringing his mouth down against your neck, forming a path of haste kisses until he meets your shoulder. He sucks, nips and marks your flesh, and you clamp your mouth shut, forcing any sound back down. “Pull it up, I wanna see.”

You look around, observing the street. “Here?”

“Yes, here.”

Taking a breath, you lift your skirt, your eyes flicking to his, drawn in by the primal growl he releases, one that causes a small flutter of wings in the pit of your belly. The growl matches the inhumane level of lust in his dark eyes.

Your body jerks away from Charlie's hand, your body rattling like you had been jolted by a thousand sparks of electricity, and your mouth parts, letting out a surprised gasp as he strikes your pussy through the baby pink lace. The sound is caressed with a softness that goes straight to his head.

“Charlie?!”

“That's for waking me up so late,” he scolds, spanking your pussy for a second time. “That's for making me drive across the city.” He does it again and now you bite your lip to silence yourself. “And that's for being dumb enough to nearly get yourself arrested on a drug charge.”

You pout. “That wasn't nice.”

He ignores you, sitting back in his seat, his hand rubbing his thigh. “Pay up, doll.”

You don't have to do this, the voice in your head tries to persuade you. You'll regret it, it sings, think of Cassie, you'll never be able to look her in the eyes again. What would she think if she discovered you blew her dad just to get out of disappointing your parents?

She'll hate you.

You'll hate yourself.

How pathetic are you?

You're moving before the voice finishes berating you, kneeling on the front seat, your skirt still pulled up, the baby pink on show for anyone who might be walking past at this late hour. If your parents were to look out of their bedroom window, they might just catch a glimpse of you reaching across the centre console, Charlie's cock half-hard and held lightly in your hand.

He's bigger than you anticipated, but it wasn't like you had ever wondered about the size of your best friend's dad's cock before tonight.

You adjust your hand around the base and he shudders out a breath.

“Don't have to tell you what to do, do I?” Charlie asks, his voice bringing your eyes up to his face. His stare is intense, enough to trigger your thighs to squeeze together.

“You won't tell my parents what happened?” He shakes his head. “And you won't tell Cassie this happened?”

His thumb touches your chin, brushing softly under your bottom lip. “It'll be our little secret.” His words made you feel dirty, but you shake it off, along with the voice inside still berating you.

Bending low, a glob of spit drips from your mouth, onto his cock, and you work it onto him with slow strokes. Charlie sighs above you, the corners of his mouth twisted with evil intentions, and he guides his hand down your back, making you squirm as he grabs a fistful of your bum, squeezing you like you were some stress toy.

“That's it,” he mutters, his head tipping back, feeling your tongue drag across the tip, “nice and slow. There's no need for us to rush this.”

You drag and circle your tongue around him, your mouth widening and lips stretching, swallowing the tip, sucking slowly as instructed. It's a wet and warm heaven, like slipping into a warm bath after a tiring, long shift, your mouth, and Charlie groans, squeezing your bum as he nods his head. It's caught in the corner of your eye, and spurs you on to keep going.

“God, that's good,” he rasps, feeling you struggle to adjust to his size, his width stuffing your cheeks.

You jerk back, a string of spit slowly dripping from your mouth, feeling his hand push under your panties. There's a flash of panic in your eyes, your chin tipped up to look at him, the spit breaking and dangling from your chin.

“Shush, it's okay,” he mumbles, placing his free hand on the back of your neck, pushing you back down. His cock breeches your mouth, stuffing you silent. “Just want to play with her for a minute.” Again, that evil twisted grin appears. “Don't worry, you'll like it. Be good and I might even let you come.”

There's no working you up to it; two fingers push in to claim your pussy like Charlie had every right to it. Tonight, perhaps he did. You hiss, the sound vibrating around him, and he follows it with a hard grunt.

Soft groans and hard grunts were his way of letting you know he liked it, you had decided, with the occasional snippet of praise forming on his lips. The absence of his voice made room for that voice inside your head again.

Dirty whore.

Slut.

Pathetic.

You squeeze your eyes shut hoping to keep the tears at bay as they brim, but it only sends them trickling down your cheeks.

“Don't stop,” Charlie's voice pushes the voice back, “that's it. I bet you can get a bit more in.” His hand pushes you down, stuffing your mouth with another inch, a grunt following as he feels you widen your mouth to accommodate him. “Feels nice,” he says, but you can't tell if he's complimenting your throat or your cunt, that clenches around his fingers as the praise comes.

You're enjoying this?

You silence the voice for good, forcing it to the back of your head, the sound of you gagging covering it, the last inch of him stuffed between your lips.

Fresh tears feel like tiny shards of glass and spill down your cheeks as you glance up at him with teary eyes.

His head is tipped back, his lips parting as he pants and groans, his chest heaving as his breathing turns harder. No memory comes to mind when he tries to think back to the last time someone had blown him this good.

“Just hold it there,” he grunts, forcing more of his weight onto the back of your neck, fingers pressing down on either side. Spit coats his length as you choke on him. “Good girl,” the praise is growled, “taking it like a fuckin’ pro. Sucked many cocks, have you?”

But he doesn't give you a second to answer, the end of his cock still hitting the back of your throat, his hips lifting from the seat to fuck himself as deep as possible. When he does let off, you're gasping for air, a sheen of drool covering your chin as fresh spit drips and dangles. The lip gloss you had been recoating your lips with all night had all but gone, just baby pink streaks smeared along his length.

To answer his question, you shake your head. No, you hadn't sucked many cocks, as he had put it. There was your high school boyfriend, who had pressured you into it because he had wanted to know if it would feel good. He came pretty quickly, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment, and you spat out his cum in his bathroom sink, refusing to look up at his mom as you hurriedly left. And there were a few here and there at college, who you foolishly thought might become your boyfriends, but they suddenly lost your number or forgot who you were afterwards.

Charlie sounded shocked, but his face gave you nothing. He withdraws his fingers from your pussy, a desperate whine leaving your lips - surprising you - and lightly smacks your bum as a form of punishment. “You're just a natural then, huh?” He grins, wrapping his clean hand around his base and nudging the tip back between your puffy lips.

He grunts, closing his eyes to let himself be lost in the feeling of you flicking and swirling your tongue over him. He pulsates as your tongue licks up along the vein, finishing with a sharp flick across his tip. His eyes flash open, groaning. You do it again and his fingers grab tight onto your bum.

“Ah, that's it,” he tips his chin, nodding, your hand stroking the base as you swallow him, sucking hungrily, “just like that, doll.”

You keep going, stroking and sucking him faster, your jaw beginning to hurt from the strain.

His hand returns to the back of your head, mirroring the bobbing of your throat, with his fingers back at your hole, lazily teasing it in circles. You whimper each time he pushes his fingertips inside, the soft vibration causing his hips to jerk up, stuffing himself deeper, which causes you to choke and gag, the harsh, slightly painful, sound like music to Charlie's ears.

When his fingers push deeper inside your walls, you force more of him into your throat, hollowing out your cheeks, sucking enthusiastically like it might earn you extra credit.

“That's it, doll, now you're getting into it.” He pats the back of your head. “Feels good, just giving into it, doesn't it?” You moan around him, and he just smiles. “Pretty soaked, down here,” he slips his fingers out, wiping your juices along your slit, coating your swollen clit as he strokes it in slow circles, “this perfect, pretty pussy.” He strikes it with another slap and you moan hard. “I fucking knew you liked it when I was spanking you earlier.” He does it again, the coil in your core twisting tighter as you beg him to do it again. “Dirty girl.”

“Please, Charlie,” you plead, stroking him faster, “please!”

His head tilts, eyebrows perked amusingly, watching you pant hard against his cock. “You want to come, sweetheart?”

You whimper out, “Yes.”

He frees his hand, and you whine softly as he slips his fingers away from your clit. He brings them up to his mouth, sucking each finger, deliberately keeping his eyes locked on yours. Your walls flutter as he draws out a moan, sucking each finger a second time to make sure he's cleaned your juices off.

“No.” He wraps his hand around his base and stuffs himself back into your mouth, silencing your protest. “I said I might make you come, not that I would,” he grumbles, pounding his hips up off the seat.

He comes hard. His jaw slacked, and his head tipped back to not show you his face, hiding the deep red blush that stains his cheeks every time he comes. His grip is relentless, holding you down, his release spilling against the back of your throat; the thick ropes take you by surprise and you gag and splutter on the first few spurts of his release. It spills down your chin, mixing with your spit.

“Christ-!” Charlie's panting as you pull away, using your fingers to wipe your chin, pushing his cum back into your mouth. “That's it, doll, you make sure you get all of it,” he grins, sick and twisted, “what do you say?”

You swallow, forcing down a moan. “Thank you?”

He nods. “Correct.”

He cleans himself as best as he can with napkins thrown carelessly into the glove box earlier that morning, almost sad to see the lip gloss stains go.

“Is that it?” You ask, your voice is barely above a whisper. You look nervously at Charlie, playing with your skirt, pulling it down, trying to hide your skin. “You won't tell my dad, right?” He stays quiet, the silence bringing back that uncomfortable twisting in your stomach. “Charlie?”

“No, I won't,” he answers, finally, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “but let this be a lesson, okay? My favours don't come for free, kid, you wanna be dumb and get yourself caught, remember this is gonna happen every time you call for my help.”

“Believe me, I won't be doing it again.” You scramble to get your heels and back from the back seat.

“I'll be seeing you this weekend, right?” He asks, watching you open the door, stopping you as you try to slip out. Your dad's birthday dinner. “What does he prefer? Bourbon or whiskey?” You glance back at him. How could he just act like what just happened hadn't happened? “I wouldn't want to get him the wrong present.”

“Bourbon,” you mumble, looking away, “he drinks bourbon. Can I go now?”

He flashes you a smile. “Of course, goodnight, kid.”

"That head of yours has gotten far too big for your shoulders to carry," you respond, dragging your nails down the back of his head, stopping at the nape of his neck, "I don't just fly out to another state just for some boy."

He scoffs at you for calling him a boy, mumbling into your neck about how he was a man.

Truth be told, you did have a job opportunity lined up in the city; you were doing a bridal shoot for the daughter of some big businessman. But that didn't mean you couldn't have just a smidgen of fun whilst you were here. And Clayton was just that. Your smidgen of fun.

“You're just the starter before the main course.”

He wraps his hand around your neck, tightening his grip just enough to make the corners of your lips curl upwards into a wicked grin. He takes a deep, staggered breath as he feels you pulsate around him, your pussy clenching him hard. "I'm the starter, the main course and the desert, baby," he grunts, snapping his hips into yours, feeling himself burying deeper into you, "there's no one more delectable than me.”

"Delectable?" You dig your nails into the back of his neck, your grin widening as you listen to the string of curses being spilt under his breath. "That's a big word for you," you tease, moaning as he silences you with a tighter grip.

"Speaking of delectable things," he mumbles, pulling out with a hushed grunt, releasing your neck.

His mouth moves lazily across your chest, leaving a line of his own saliva as he licks between the valley of your breasts. Your back lifting away from the sofa, Clayton pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling and twisting it until the pain feels pleasurable to you.

"I've missed having my head between these thighs," he nips his teeth at the inside of your thigh, the unshaven bit of scruff grazing and scratching you, "so gorgeous and so soft for me. And this pussy, too. So pretty and dripping wet for me.” He runs his knuckle down your slit, teasing you. “You're making a mess everywhere, baby, on my cock, on my sofa, all over the tops of your thighs.” He smirks. “Has it been that long since someone gave it to you as good as me?”

You don't answer, silenced and ridden of your ability to talk as he collides his tongue against your pussy, licking up and down between your swollen lips, swirling it around your clit, and tasting every bit of you as your wetness pools onto his tongue. His noises were obscene, animalistic even, groaning every time he slipped his tongue inside you while nipping, slurping, and eating every inch of you like he was eating his last meal.

"More," you bite your bottom lip and buck your hips into his mouth, whimpering as he pins your hips, pushing you harder into the sofa to stop you from moving.

"What is it, baby?" He asks, licking his lips as he pulls away. His mouth and chin were glistening under his living room lights, making you moan at the visible evidence of yourself on him. "Tell me what you need," he encourages, placing a soft kiss against your left hip and then the other, "I can't give you what you want, if you don't tell me. Use that pretty mouth.”

"Your fingers," you tell him, lifting his hand to your mouth, sucking his fingers until they are dripping in spit. His cock twitches as he watches your fingers repeatedly disappear into your mouth. "I need to feel them inside me.”

He brings his fingers down to touch your pussy, slowly rubbing them against your clit, chuckling as you squirm below him. "You want me to stuff you with my fingers, baby?" You nod your head with an eagerness he deemed as being far too adorable and a whole lot of desperation. "Fine, I'll give you my fingers if you promise to come in my mouth," he negotiates, teasing your entrance, "you can do that for me, can't you? Be a good girl and do as you're told?”

"Yes," you answer, sitting up on your elbows. He grins, letting you watch as his fingers disappear inside you. "Oh, god," you moan at the pleasure you were feeling as he fucked you slowly with two fingers.

"There's no god in this room, princess, just me," he replies, burying his mouth into your cunt, wrapping his lips around and sucking on your clit. His name comes out like a prayer, burying his fingers deeper inside, curling them to reach the spot he knew would leave you gasping and grasping at the edge of the sofa. "That's it, baby," he encourages, groaning as your taste floods his mouth, "just fucking come on my mouth. Come on, now, be a good girl and do as I fucking tell you to!"

"Fuck, Clay, don't stop!" You cry, fisting one hand into his hair, the other grasping at the cushion underneath your hips. With your thighs trembling and your stomach clenching, you throw your head back, crying out his name again and again. "Shit, I'm gonna come," you warn, squirming your hip, trying to buck them up into his mouth, "shit, shit, sh…”

"That's it! That's my good fucking girl!" He praises, watching as your body trembles, grunting and groaning as he feels you pulsate and tighten around his fingers. "Just a good fucking slut, aren't you?" He places soft kisses against your hips, lazily trailing them up your body as he moves in search of your lips. "Taking my fingers, swallowing them up inside your cunt, and squeezing them like a whore."

You whimper, feeling the emptiness as he removes his fingers and dances them across your bottom lip.

“You know the rules," he whispers, watching you intently and pushing his fingers past your lips, "you make a mess, you clean it up."

Wrapping your hand around his thick wrist, you push his fingers deep into the back of your throat, gagging and spluttering around them, your eyes never leaving his. He groans, biting his bottom lip and pushes them deeper until he starts to feel resistance.

Without warning, he rips his fingers back, a trail of spit still connecting you both together. "My turn," he stands to his feet, running his dry hand through his own hair, fixing the mess you had caused, "get on your knees, baby, I want to see if that throat still feels the same as I remember.”

He's already groaning as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, watching you with lust drunk eyes as you just take the tip into your mouth.

"Come on, no teasing," he orders, resting his hand on the back of your head, "let me see you take it all."

Gazing up at him, you give in to him, breathing through your nose and relaxing your jaw as you take as much as you can into your mouth. He grunts, feeling himself already hitting the back of your throat.

"What's the matter, princess?" He chuckles, pushing down onto your head. "Is it too big for my good girl to handle?”

You pull off, shaking your head and pumping him in your hand. "Big?" You goad, swirling your tongue around his tip, running it along the slit, feeling him shiver in your grasp. "Is that what they tell you? That it's the biggest cock they've ever taken?”

"I know it's the biggest cock you've ever taken," he fires back, suppressing a moan as you use your free hand to massage his balls the way you know he likes, "you wouldn't keep coming back to me, if it wasn't.”

"I come back to you?" You laugh, speeding up the way you twisted and jerked your hand over his shaft. He grunts, bucking his hips as you squeeze your hand around his tip. "That's funny, because weren't you the one who came to me last time? And the time before that?" He rolls his eyes, trying not to break his demeanour. "It sounds like you're the one who comes back to me.”

"Well, no one will suck my cock the way you do," he replies, digging his fingers harder into the back of your head, and groaning as you lick your tongue along the underside of his shaft. His head rolls back at the feeling of you taking him back into his mouth, grunting as you start to bob your head at constant, steady pace. "Only sluts suck cock the way you do," he pushes you down, feeling his cock twitching in your mouth every time you gagged around him, "god, baby, keep doing that!”

You catch your breath, feeling him twitching in the palm of your hand. "Gonna paint my throat white, baby?"

"And leave those perfect tits untouched?" He shakes his head, his chest heaving as he swallows a deep breath. His stomach clenches, grunting as his hips snapped forwards to meet each of your strokes. "Keep stroking me like that," he encourages through partial groans and a whole lot of grunts, "that's a good girl! That's a good fucking slut! My good fucking slut!"

Ropes of cum cover your chest and your hand as he finds himself coming for you, moaning your name out between broken grunts. You giggle at the grin he gives you, his cheeks darkening as a partial flicker of softness flashes in his eyes.

Your naked, clammy bodies collapse back onto the sofa, the two of you only laughing as you catch a glimpse of each other out of the corner of your eyes.

"Give me a second and I'll grab you a towel," Clayton tells you, reaching to grab his boxes dangling off the arm. He moves towards you, your thong hanging from his finger, moving them out of your reach as you try to grab them. "Though you do look very pretty painted in my cum," he catches your lips with his own, putting your panties in your hands when he pulls away.

"What time is it?" You ask, looking around his living room for your phone.

"Why?" He replies, kissing along your shoulder, groaning as you move out from underneath him.

"Because I have a check in to make.”

He sits back, lifting his hips as he pulls his boxes on. "I don't know why you just don't stay in my spare room," he throws out, finding your phone hidden under his shirt, "or even my own bed.”

"That's exactly why I don't stay here," you take your phone from him, smiling when you see you still had some time left before you were needed at your hotel.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he chuckles, adding a comment about going to fetch you that warm cloth he had promised, "but we both know you'd like a personal, on the house, stay at Hotel Keller.”

"Unfortunately, I only stay in five star rated hotels," you call after him, giggling like an idiot, "and I've heard Hotel Keller is only rated three. Something about poor service."

He emerges quickly from his kitchen, the warm cloth in his hand. His touch is gentle as he wipes the cloth over your skin, obeying his own rule and cleaning up the mess he had created. "That was definitely not three-star rated sex," he adds to the joke, holding your hip with his free hand. "You get perfect service every single time.”