Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 359

Chapter 359

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Emerson walked into my room like he owned it, which, technically, he did. It was the first time since the tour began that he had ever set foot in a room he had given to me, and my heart seized so hard I did not realize I had started smiling until I felt the stretch in my cheeks.

I was wearing the pink lingerie, the one I had chosen that morning for no reason at all, a scrap of lace that barely covered anything and showed off everything else, and the moment his eyes landed on me, he seemed to lose his voice. His gaze traveled down my body slowly, deliberately, from my face to my breasts to the lace between my thighs and back up again, and the desire in his eyes was unmistakable. It was the same look he had given me the first night, the night of the audition, and I had not seen it since.

I decided then and there not to waste the moment. I began to move toward him, letting my body do the talking, my hips rolling in that slow rhythm I had perfected years ago, my hands sliding up my own waist, over my ribs, through my hair. His eyes stayed trained on me the whole way, tracking every step, and by the time I was standing barely an inch from him, he was breathing like a man who had forgotten how.

I lowered my gaze to his pants, and my lips curved into a smile I could not have stopped if I had tried. There was no hiding it. His cock was basically doubling in length, pushing against the fabric of his trousers in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was seven in the morning and he was already this hard for me, and the knowledge sent a thrill straight through me, hot and sharp and greedy.

I reached down and touched him through the fabric, my fingers curling around the shape of him, and a groan escaped his throat, low and rough, like it had been torn out of him. That was all the invitation I needed. I slipped my hand past his waistband, found his cock, and pulled it out, and then I went down on my knees on the cold floor without a single moment of hesitation.

I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked, slow at first, feeling the heat of him, the weight, the way he twitched in my grip. Then I leaned in, opened my mouth wide, and took him in, sinking down until my lips met my fist, until he was buried deep in my throat and my eyes were already beginning to water.

“Fuck,” Emerson groaned, and his hands came down on either side of my face, cupping my jaw, and then he lowered his body and began to fuck into my mouth.

There was nothing gentle about it. He set a brutal rhythm from the first stroke, pulling my head forward to meet each thrust, driving his cock deep into my throat until I gagged, until my eyes streamed and my nose burned and I could not breathe, could not do anything but take it.

He held me there, his fingers digging into my cheeks, and he fucked my face like I was nothing but a hole made for his pleasure, fast and rough and merciless. I choked, my throat convulsing around him, spit spilling down my chin and dripping onto the floor, and he only laughed, a low dark sound that vibrated through me.

“That’s it,” he growled, pulling out just long enough for me to gasp one desperate breath before slamming back in. “Take it, you bitch. Take all of it.”

He spat into my mouth. I felt the warm saliva hit my tongue and I swallowed it without being told, and the sound he made in response was almost approving. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, forcing my face up at an angle that bared my throat, and then he was fucking into me again, deep and hard, each thrust hitting the back of my throat until I was sure I would choke, until black spots danced at the edges of my vision.

My hands came up to brace against his thighs and he slapped them away, gripping my hair even tighter, and he fucked my mouth until I was nothing but tears and spit and the wet sounds of a throat being used.

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