My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172

I moved back and forth, from his balls to the thick base of his cock, licking and sucking every inch I could reach. I wanted him to feel everything. I wanted him to be so lost in the feeling that he forgot who he was, forgot where we were.

He was panting now, his breath coming in loud bursts. I looked up and saw his face twisted in a mask of pure pleasure. He looked like he was in pain, the good kind of pain that only comes when you’re seconds away from losing control.

I moved my mouth back up to the head of his cock, giving the tip a long, slow lick before taking the whole thing back inside.

Raphael was at his limit. I could feel it in the way his thighs were shaking and the way his cock was pulsing inside my mouth. He wasn’t just hard anymore; he felt like he was made of liquid fire, ready to melt.

“I’m going to… fuck, I’m going,” he rasped.

His hips gave one violent surge upward, burying himself as deep as he could get into my throat. I felt his body go completely rigid, every muscle in his tattooed chest and arms locking tight. A low, animalistic roar ripped out of his throat, echoing off the walls.

Then, he came.

It hit the back of my throat in thick, hot bursts. It was a flood of heat, so much of it that I had to swallow just to keep from choking. He kept pumping, his body twitching with every heavy shot he fired into me. I gripped his thighs, holding on tight as he spilled everything he had, his cock throbbing and surging against my tongue over

and over.

The heat of it was everywhere. I didn’t pull away. I stayed right there, sucking hard, taking every drop of his release as he shuddered and groaned, his head falling forward until his forehead was resting against my silver wig.

He was spent. The aggressive power in him seemed to drain away, leaving him heavy and limp. He let out a shaky breath, his chest heaving. I pulled back slowly, the slick, white evidence of what we’d just done coating my lips and chin in the dim red light.

Raphael looked wrecked. His eyes were unfocused, his hair a mess, and his skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

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