RoomHate(91)By: Penelope Ward
“I really want that right now, but…”
Disappointment flashed across his face. “What?”
“I stabbed myself…pretty heavily.”
Shutting his eyes in disappointment, he grumbled, “Shit. I need you so badly right now.” He looked down at the ground then up at me. “I don’t mind…if you don’t. I’ll stab you so good myself, you won’t even think about the other wound.”
As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t.
I pulled on the edge of his pants, taking a peek at the rock hard erection inside. “I have a better idea.”
Dropping to my knees, I slowly undid the string of his navy pajama pants.
Leaning his elbows back against the counter, Justin bent his head back and surrendered without argument, except to laugh under his breath as he said, “Or…we could do this. Fuck. Yeah.”
Admiring the cut V of his lower abs and the thin line of hair that ran down the middle, I said, “I’ve always wanted to go down on you. That time we left the porno theater, remember that? I couldn’t have you back then, but I fantasized that whole night about sucking you off.”
He massaged my hair. “I’ll never forget that night. It was so damn hot to see you getting turned on during that movie. I wanted nothing more than to lift you on top of me and fuck that pretty little pink pussy right in the little red theater. I wanted you so fucking badly that night, so much it hurt. Almost as much as I want you now.”
His breath hitched when I took his cock out. I opened wide and wrapped my lips around it. He let out a hot, throaty sound and was already wet the moment my tongue took its first swirl around his crown.
“Holy shit,” he hissed. “That’s good. Your mouth on my cock, Amelia…nothing like it. This feels like a dream.”
He tasted warm and salty as I sucked, rubbing my palm along his shaft. He gripped the back of my hair to guide my mouth as it bobbed up and down over his cock.
At one point, I began to take him as deeply as I could without choking. As I intentionally squeezed the back of my throat around his cock, I snuck a glance up at his reaction as he muttered, “Oh, you evil bitch. That is so fucking good.” I repeated the movement again and again. His eyes were closed so tightly that he looked like his mind had travelled to another dimension.
My own moans vibrated over his cock as he suddenly bucked his hips and came hard down my throat. Pulling my hair, he groaned, “Shit. Take it all, baby. Take it all,” as I drank in the hot spurts of cum shooting down my throat.
I looked up at him seductively as I swallowed every last drop.
When there was nothing left but his panting, he said, “Fuck. You didn’t hold back. I always knew you liked cream with your coffee, but damn. It was hot to see how much you enjoyed it, too.” He released a long breath as he adjusted his pants. “I already want to do it again. Is this a trick to get me to stay or something? Because it just might fucking work.”
“Really? If that’s the case, my mouth is ready.”
“Oh, we will be doing that again before I leave. That…was mind blowing. Where the hell did you learn to suck like that?” He shook his head fast. “Never mind. I don’t really want to know.” Wiping the corners of my mouth, he asked, “What the heck did I do to deserve that anyway?”
“You saved my daughter’s life. You deserved the blow job of your life.”
He squeezed me close. “Quick, run out to the beach and jump in the choppy ocean.”
I squinted my eyes. “Why?”
“That way I can save you. Maybe you’ll let me take that ass later.”
Justin spent a record amount of time that afternoon trying to get Bea to say “Dada.”
She babbled a lot in general, but hadn’t used the letter D as much as the letters B or M. She also knew how to say “bye bye.”
I watched the two of them from the kitchen as Justin sat with Bea on the couch, trying to get her to repeat his words.
“Say Da-da.” He pointed to himself. “I’m Da-da.”
“Ba-ba,” she said.
He repeated, “Da-da.”
She blew a raspberry and giggled.
“You silly girl. Say Da-da.”
Bea paused for a bit then said, “Ma-ma,” before cracking up. Justin tickled her belly with his hair, and she fell into a laughing fit.
Wiping the kitchen counter, I was in stitches watching all of this go down. Either I was raising a Mama’s girl, or she was one hell of a little comedian.
The three months that followed Christmas dragged.