Chapter 190
Adrian Kael
“Since you are being so obedient… can I do something?” The question
comes out low, almost smooth.
Magnus shoots me a suspicious look, his eyebrows slightly arched, his
body rigid. This reaction forces me to contain a wider smile.
“And what would that be?” He retorts, his voice firm, trying to
maintain control.
He has not finished dressing yet; the towel is slipping a bit down his
waist, leaving his wet skin exposed. I take a quick step toward him,
closing the space between us, and before he can react, I drop to my
knees in front of him. The next gesture is clear, even without words.
Magnus catches his breath.
“Don’t you dare, you son of a bi-” His voice dies in his throat as I take
his cock into my mouth.
I grip his buttocks tightly, swallowing even more of his member until
it reaches deep into my throat.
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“Damn you…”
I move my head in a continuous rhythm, slow and then deeper,
provoking him with every thrust. The effort to contain the sounds is
evident; he grinds his teeth, the muscles in his neck contracting as if
every moan were a lost battle.
His hands rest on my head, trying to push, to pull away, to regain
control. But I do not yield. I stay there, firm, savoring every inch of
that forbidden cock as if it were the most precious essence ever
created. The flavor permeates my tongue–a sweet addiction,
impossible to give up.
A low, hoarse sound vibrates in his throat, heavy with irritation at my
stubbornness.
“If this is what you want, fine.”
His hands return to my face, firm, almost brutal, forcing me without
mercy. The movement is deep, giving no chance for retreat, plunging
until air becomes scarce.
“Wasn’t this what you wanted?” His voice comes out broken, deep,
almost a stifled moan. “Then take it.”
The rhythm intensifies, heavy and heartless; to him, it might be a
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punishment, but to me, it is the best reward I could receive–a
forbidden pleasure that consumes me entirely.
The sensation is addictive, a sweet poison spreading through my
veins, burning like fire, better than any drug ever invented. Each
thrust pulls muffled, stifled sounds from me, while the rhythm of his
hips remains merciless and firm, giving me no respite.
I look up, hungry for every detail of his expression. What I see is
blasphemy and divinity mixed together: his forehead glistening with
sweat, his jaw tense, his lips parted as he lets out the heavy breaths
he tries to suffocate. Blessed curse–he is a god allowing himself to
falter just to drive me insane.
The sight erodes me with pleasure and insanity. My whole body
throbs, covered in goosebumps, while the wet sound my mouth
produces echoes like profane music. It is too indecent, pornographic,
and yet, beautiful. My tongue, my lips–every suction is a hymn of
worship.
And when I see his gaze flicker, when his teeth dig into his bruised lip
trying to hold back the inevitable, I nearly lose control.
I want more.
I need more.
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I want to see this man, this executioner, come in my mouth.
He keeps thrusting without mercy, each stroke deeper than the last.
Pre–cum drips down my chin, marking the delicious filth of the
moment. His hips accelerate, the rhythm gaining a fury that shows he
is close.
A muffled moan escapes my throat at the overwhelming sensation,
and the sound seems to make him surrender even further. His
breathing hitches, his body trembles, and the deep groans betray that
his orgasm is approaching.
He grabs my hair brutally, and the pain mixed with pleasure sets me
further ablaze. I keep my eyes fixed on his face, absorbing every
detail: the squeezed–shut eyes, the parted mouth, and the hoarse
moans that sound like a melody made just for me.
My hands slide down to his buttocks, squeezing with possessive force.
He arches his body, his head snaps back, and then he surrenders
completely, reaching his orgasm deep in my throat.
The sight consumes me, so overwhelming that I lose control as well,
coming without even touching myself. I swallow his semen to the last
drop, savoring it as if it were the finest liquid in the world, too
precious to waste.
