Sugar Daddy Page 14

I know exactly how thick and long it gets when it’s swollen to capacity as he fucked me no less than three times last night, in between handing me out orgasms as if they were treats from an ice cream truck.

Gently, I lay my head back down on the pillow and consider that.

A man gave me an orgasm.

Multiple orgasms.

With his mouth, with his fingers. Once, just with the pounding of his cock within me. It’s like once I started, my body was making up for years and years of having no sexual gratification.

That first one…oh God…it scared the shit out of me. I never knew anything could feel that good. Sure, I’d given myself the “O” before, but it was a mild quaking of pleasure that brought a soft smile to my face.

When Beck made me come that first time?

It was felt like the force of a nuclear explosion went off inside of me, and it shredded me from the inside out. It was so powerful that it rendered me nearly blind and deaf for a few moments. My brain was still trying to play catch-up with what it all meant before he pulled me to the end of the bed and put his mouth to me again.

The second time he made me come, tears leaked from my eyes from not only the joy of such perfect pleasure, but for the years wasted that I never felt such a thing before.

I have no clue why it happened and why he was the one to do it, but clearly Beck North simply doesn’t have a problem pulling them from me. I’m not sure if he’s magic or just so damned dedicated to the cause, but it was effortless on his part. I’m betting he could probably just look at me a certain way and I might explode.

My lips curve upward in a fulfilled smile, and for the first time I wonder if perhaps I’m not completely broken. I know I’m fucked up about a million different ways, but perhaps my ability to truly appreciate sex as something pleasurable was just lying dormant and wasn’t completely obliterated when I was raped.

Turning my head on the pillow, I look back at Beck. I don’t think either one of us expected to fall asleep, and I’m almost betting he’s not the type who likes awkward conversation the next morning. If I were a kinder, gentler Sela Halstead, I’d do the guy a favor and slip out of bed quietly, then slip even more quietly out of his life.

But I’m not kind or gentle.

I am, however, thankful and I want to thank this man for what he helped me achieve.

I push up, straight to my knees, and inch down the bed. I have no hesitation when I take his softened penis in my hand and gently squeeze it. At first, I get no reaction, but when I squeeze it again, it starts to expand against my palm. Gently I start to stroke it, watching in fascination as it lengthens and the tiny wrinkles of the loose skin start to disappear as blood fills his shaft. I’ve never watched a man get hard before and it’s fascinating.

“Sela,” I hear Beck murmur, and I tilt my head to look at him. His eyes are closed but there’s a smile on his face. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer him.

I merely show him.

I bend over and take him into my mouth, straight back to my throat.

“Fuck,” Beck groans, and he pushes the fingers of one hand into my hair and grasps the back of my head. “Feels good.”

I moan my understanding and agreement against him, pulling up and down on his cock with hollowed cheeks and a swirling tongue. Beck, in turn, grunts and huffs out strangled sounds from deep in his throat. His fingers grip my hair but not hard, just enough to encourage my motions.

I’m relentless with him, bringing my free hand to his balls, which I gently roll between my fingers. My other hand follows my mouth up and down his cock, squeezing him in such a way that he curses and begs me to go faster.

So I do.

“Goddamn…Sela,” Beck mutters as he punches his hips up. I take him deep and that impresses him. “Fuck that’s good.”

Up and down, up and down I go. Savoring his taste and the satiny texture of his skin against my tongue. I pause at the top and scrape my teeth over the tip before taking him down deep again.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, and his hand pulls on my hair. “Pull off…I’m going to come.”

Swallow it.

All of it.

My head spins from the unwanted memory as I suck hard on my way up, let him pop free of my mouth, and then I jack him vigorously.

One, two, three…four times and he starts jetting semen over my hand and onto his stomach. I continue to stroke him as I watch pleasure contort his face and the cords of muscle in his neck contract from the force of his orgasm. I stroke him softly as he starts to come down, and finally he hisses out a long breath of relief.

His eyes open and he looks at me. “That was amazing.”

I give him a smile as I wipe my hand off on the sheet next to his hip. Shrugging, I merely say, “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Beck’s brows furrow inward as he contemplates the return of a favor. “Did you enjoy doing that the way I enjoyed having my mouth between your legs last night?”

I refuse to blush and hold his eyes. “Yes. Very much.”

And that’s the truth. Up until the very end when past and present started to blur, what I liked most about that experience was in listening to Beck make all those sexy sounds. Knowing that I was responsible for so much pleasure was a turn-on itself.

“Then it’s not a return of a favor,” Beck says.

“What’s not?” I ask, now lost in the conversation.

“You said you were doing me a favor. That would have bruised my ego badly if you only did that as a return gesture.”

I nod in understanding. “Gotcha. I did that because I wanted to show you my appreciation, but I also very much enjoyed doing that to you.”

Neither one of us mentions the fact that I didn’t swallow and I wonder how important that is to him.

It’s not something I ever do for men, having my first experience forced upon me, but for some reason I think I would with Beck. If he hadn’t have pulled me off, I was so lost in the experience I might have swallowed, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been wigged out about it.

“Listen,” Beck says as he sits up, leaning his weight on one hand planted in the mattress. “I’m going to take a shower.”

And, here it comes.

The brush-off.

He may not have kicked me out last night after our last round, but I suspect it’s because he was too tired. But now Beck is reiterating the point he made to me last night and that I readily agreed to.

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