Chapter 8: On Your Knees

Dylan didn’t say a word. He just spread his legs wide open and grabbed my body and pulled me towards him, dragging me forward towards his crotch like I was his to place wherever he wanted — because I was.

My knees slid across the carpet, right up between his thighs, face now inches from his throbbing beautiful cock. He didn’t need to shove me or bark an order. The way he looked at me was enough. That cocky smirk, chin tilted slightly like he knew — like he always knew what I was about to do before I even did it.

“Right there,” he said, voice low and smooth as sin. “Stay. Boy”

His legs caged me in, and the heat rolling off him was unreal. I could smell him — soap, sweat, skin. Raw. Real. Overwhelming.

I dropped my hands to his thighs, felt the tension there, the way his muscles twitched beneath my palms like he was holding back just to see how long I’d drag it out. But I didn’t make him wait long. Not this time.

I leaned in and dragged my tongue up the base of his shaft — slow and rough, just to feel the weight of it against my mouth. He let out a sharp breath through his nose, and I smirked against his skin.

“You always this quiet when you’re impressed?” I muttered.

“Keep talking,” Dylan murmured, fingers tightening in my hair, “and I’ll give you something better to fill that mouth.”