Chapter 90: Open your mouth
"Open your mouth, Freya," he commanded, his tone a molten promise that sent a jolt of heat spiraling through her core.
Freya’s lips parted, soft and eager, her breath a warm tease as she leaned closer, her tongue darting out to trace the tip of his cock with a bold, languid swirl.
The taste of him—salty, heady—ignited her senses, her lips stretching to envelop his girth as she took him deeper, her mouth a wet, inviting sanctuary.
She moved with a slow, sensual rhythm, her head bobbing gently, cheeks hollowing with each deliberate pull. The vibrations of her muffled moans rippled against him, a primal hum that set his nerves ablaze.
"Fuck, Freya," Kael groaned, his voice raw and guttural, low, his hands tightening on her wrists, pinned above her head against the cool wood of the booth’s wall. "You’ve gotten so damn good at this."
His other hand cupped her jaw, fingers tracing the curve of her cheek as she worked him, guiding her with a gentle pressure that belied the fire in his gaze.
Her blindfold, the mask, obscured her eyes, but her face—flushed, lips glistening—was a vision of raw surrender that made his pulse race.
Her tongue teased the sensitive ridge beneath his shaft, swirling back to the tip with a reverence that felt both worshipful and defiant.
Freya’s platinum-cyan hair swayed with each movement, catching the dim light, a cascade of silver that brushed her shoulders.
The booth was a crucible, their shared heat a living pulse, the air heavy with the scent of their arousal.
Voices from the next stall cut through the haze followed by a woman’s carefree laugh.