[She'll get what she wants, and then some. There are times when he wants to rein in his own voice, embarrassed by the noises he makes, but he's grown to recognize that she likes it, so for her - to ensure she knows just how well she's treating him - he keeps his hand away from his face, instead reaching out and touching her hair, fingers curling in a light but urgent grip so he can feel her head move as she eases his length in and out of her mouth. The other hand clenches in the fabric of the couch beneath him, and his hips cant towards her mouth, craving that warm, wet heat each time it's dragged away. Another moan is uttered, then another, and some strangled sound that must be her name; his back is arched, his head tilted, gaze shifting between clenched in pleasure and heavy-lidded, watching her with hungry eyes. The look of her is enchanting, ravishing, and it only fuels his pleasure that much more, driving him headlong towards completion.
It won't take her long to push him over the edge, close as he already was when she started. He prolongs it as long as he can, trying to hold back and cling to that feeling, but she's too good, and soon he's gasping his final cry, fingers curling, back arching, and all that pressure releases within him, a rushing high of pleasure before the glorious fall.]
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It won't take her long to push him over the edge, close as he already was when she started. He prolongs it as long as he can, trying to hold back and cling to that feeling, but she's too good, and soon he's gasping his final cry, fingers curling, back arching, and all that pressure releases within him, a rushing high of pleasure before the glorious fall.]