KING (Mistress & Master of Restraint) by Erica Chilson Read Free Book Online Page A

against the door. His back slides along the door as I lift him farther. I dip my neck and bite the outline of his cock against the fly of his jeans. Dalton’s so aroused that a wet spot is growing on the front of his skinny jeans. Denim that barely contains the biggest cock I’ve ever seen.
    Dalton weig hts no more than a small female, since he uses food as self-punishment. He’s almost a foot shorter than I am, and I love it. It makes me feel all the more manly.
    “Hmm…” I hum. “The record is three minutes. We only have two left. Do you think I can beat it?” I speak of my true talent- my mouth. Whether it’s a kiss to the lips, cock, cunt, or ass, I am a master.
    “Mon dieu,” he cries in pain. “Oui, s'il vous plaît!”
    I chuckle in amusement. In the past few weeks my rusty French has sharpened. I fought Regina for years as she tutored me. She said I’d need it one day, and she was right.
    “My God! Yes, please!” I snicker as my teeth draw his zipper down. “Oh… fuck,” I groan. “Commando.”
    Dalton thrashes like a wild animal, baying and grunting, nearly blowing his top as I lick the flesh that was behind the fly of his jeans. That wet spot is the size of a silver dollar and I crave it with a single-minded madness.
    “No wasting it,” I chastise, fingers plucking the button on his jeans.
    Twelve inches of male perfection smack s me in the face. I don’t laugh because it drives my lust to astronomical proportions. I suck down as much as I can take, more than half.
    “Thirty second countdown,” Dalton breathlessly warns as I bob my head, licking the underside of his cock, and cup ping his balls with my free hand.
    “Seriously? You’re gonna want me to stop when the five minutes are up,” I say around my slurp. “Are you batshit?”
    “Fifteen seconds,” Dalton groans, fingers finding my hair, twisting while his nails bite into my scalp. I try harder, since I guess he’s serious about the time constraints. I attack him like a feral animal: saliva dripping off my chin, hand pistoning the base of his cock, cheeks bowing during retreat and puffing out with advance. My crazed sounds match his agonized cries.
    “Three…” his cock starts flexing, quivering, as the pressure builds in his sack. “Two… One… mon dieu, Daniel!” he screams as molten liquid floods my mouth, jets down the back of my throat, and spills from my lips, coating my hand. My mouth works until the last drop shoots from the plum of his dick.
    Precum soaks my trousers, preparing for its own pleasure. My release is stuck in my balls, building from just the sound of Dalton’s pleasure.
    I tuck him safely inside his tiny jeans that I couldn’t squeeze my thigh inside, let alone my waist. I stand, r elocating my hands to Dalton’s hips again, not allowing his feet to touch the floor. I fiercely attack Dalton’s mouth, sharing his taste on my lips- tongue spearing, delivering the salty sweetness of his release between his eager lips.
    “The countdown was for your new record,” he giggles, high off pleasure. “Thirty seconds, Daniel. I don’t see any way you could break that.” Dalton falls lax against the door, eyes glazed from pleasure, pleasure I gave him.
    “Move in with me,” I beg. “We could try to break that record in our spare time. Share my rooms with me.”
    “Daniel,” Dalton denies me, trying to lessen the rejection. He stares at me through guileless green eyes.
    “Your sister needs you,” I try the technique that worked on Syn. I settl e him to his feet, and walk to my closet.
    “No , she doesn’t. I’ll just be in the way. She needs to bond with Marcus without having me to run to for comfort.”
    I can’t stand the look of pity on his face. I grab an identical pair of charcoal trousers. I yank my soiled pants off while Dalton watches from the doorway.
    “Did you cum?” he asks, noticing the flagging erection inside my boxers and my need to change pants.
    “Nah,” I murmur, refusing