Overruled

by Lana Ferguson

His chest heaves as his teeth press into his lower lip, his green eyes dark and his pupils blown wide as he watches me slide my fist lazily up and down his length. I squeeze the flushed head, rewarded with a deep rumble of satisfaction from above, pressing my thumb into the sensitive little V just underneath and rubbing a slow circle. His throat bobs with a swallow when I pull him close to rub the crown against my lower lip, and he releases a shaky breath as he watches his precome paint me there. I pull away only a little, just enough to swipe my tongue over my lip to collect what he’s left, and Ezra’s hands fist in the material covering his thighs, like he’s trying to keep from grabbing me. It’s intoxicating, having this effect on someone like him. “Still an asshole,” I chuckle before flattening my tongue in a broad sweep up the underside of him. “But fuck if your cock isn’t pretty.” He practically shouts when I close my lips over the head, suckling for a moment before pushing him deeper inside only to drag my mouth back up slowly. I keep the pace steady and teasing, wanting to watch him come as undone as he’s constantly making me feel. I trace my tongue against the vein that throbs against his velvety skin, closing my eyes as I swirl my tongue over his tip before doing it all over again. I pause when I feel his fingers pushing into my hair, my eyes flying open to meet his. There’s something entirely too gentle about the way that he lightly pushes the hair from my face, c...