Trust - Page 112

“Just a bit. You know, it was a big night. Had a glass of champagne. Really didn’t like it.”

“That’s okay.” He was so stupid. So was I. “So. Dick. In mouth?”

“Would I say no to a blowie?” He shuffled over onto his back, whipping the duvet off to reveal his very nice boner. Just as I thought.

“Want it nice and slow?” I asked, moving down the bed and stroking his leg with my nose.

“Mmm,” was all I got from him as I licked my way up his shaft, tasted the saltiness at the tip, used my fingers to gently stroke his skin before parting my lips around him. Small noises. Shivers. Tiny movements as his fingers tangled in my hair.

“Yessss,” he hissed, and I tried not to smile. Another thing I loved about my life. I was good at blow jobs. Who’d have thought? Reuben from the estate, master cock-sucker?

I almost choked on his dick, trying not to laugh. Not that he seemed to care, gently guiding my head further down. I could take it, and he knew it, bobbing carefully as his dick worked its way further down my throat. In. Out. My head went a little woozy from it all, but so what? I knew how bloody good it felt when he did it to me. How he’d work me up into a frenzy of muffled shouting and begging and sheer…yeah. I was desperate sometimes by the time he let me come, exploding down his throat.

Just like he was doing now. His back arched off the bed as I took him impossibly deep, his whole body shivering with the release that tore through his exhausted bones.

Good.

This was…good. It made me smile as I shuffled up the bed and stuck my dick in his face, grinned mischievously as his tongue peeked out of his mouth and gave me a little lick. Another smile. My hand flew over my shaft as I got myself into that state where it wouldn’t take much.

“Give it to me,” he whispered as he finally opened that mouth of his, let me slide the tip into that heat, his puffy lips all around my dick, sucking me gently as my brain did that thing where it exploded the world into darkness. Small, twinkly stars at the edge of my vision. Suction. Hardness. Almost too much for my fragile head to compute.

“Good boy,” he whispered.

I was nobody’s good boy, but I loved when he called me that. Those little words that were just mine.

“Go to sleep,” I muttered, still smiling as I cuddled up to him, shoved what was left of Mr Snuggles under my head. He was still intact, the OG Mr Snuggles. Gray had bought me another Mr Snuggles. He wasn’t the same, though. Too hard. Too clean. But he sat on our dresser, and just glancing over at him filled my heart with…happiness.

I didn’t need to say the words. He knew. Just like I did.

Last on my list of things that made me happy. This. This right here. When I fell asleep with my face in his neck, his fingers tangled in mine. My body spooning his bony arse.

Happy. Perhaps that was all we needed to be.