Bouncing off the Wall

I'm gonna make a scene, radio...

*** Hey, you guys. Finally, a new chapter. Thank you so much for your patience. Billie is pretty dominant in this scene. I wouldn't say it's anything too extreme, but I just wanted to give you guys a heads up...if you're not comfortable with dom-type talk or even the (imaginary) idea of him talking to Adie like this, you may want to reconsider reading this chapter. Much love. ***

"Now, baby," he started softly, running his hands through my hair. "I want you to lick up all this mess. Every last drop. I want to feel your soft, warm tongue all over my cock...shower me with kisses," he murmured. "Underneath, on top...take your time...from the base to the tip. Oh, and don't forget my balls. You made a mess out of those, too," he gestured, gazing down at his crotch and gently pulling my head in closer to bear witness to the chaotic scene of liquids that drenched and oozed off of him.

At this point, I felt pretty humiliated. I hadn't really done anything like this before. Billie had gone down on me after sex many times before. The way he'd always look at me with those dazzling green emeralds; his sweet, post-orgasm, sweat-soaked face glowing with determination and utter submissiveness between my legs. I'd tell him, "Taste me. Taste us. Savor how perfectly we go together." And he always obliged...happily.

Now, though, our roles were a little bit reversed.

He must've been able to sense my hesitation, because he scooted forward towards me on his knees once more. My hot, anxious breath completely engulfed his manhood, making it throb longingly in the air.

"Go on, baby. Don't be shy," he whispered, running his wet index finger across my lips. "Show my cock some appreciation for making you come...even though I fucking told you not to," he reiterated, swiftly and aggressively thrusting himself into my mouth.

He clearly wasn't playing around.

"Fuck," I winced in frustration as he pulled on my hair; my top and bottom teeth simultaneously grazing his hardness. Clenching my jaw to stifle further cries, I started bobbing my head up and down.

"Well, excuse the ever-living fuck out of me," he growled, pulling himself out of my mouth. "I didn't tell you to go fast. And I sure as hell didn't tell you to use your fucking teeth. You're not listening to me, baby," he whispered jeeringly.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, looking down at his goosebump-covered knees. My cheeks burned and the urge to cry briefly overwhelmed me, but I swallowed it instead.

"Look at me," he whispered, wrapping a hand underneath my chin and pulling my gaze up to meet his.

"I know you want me to fuck you again," he said, studying me with pity. "And God knows that I fucking want to, baby girl. But if you're not going to listen to me - and it's not looking like you're gonna - I might have to cut you off. If you want, you can just watch me get myself off instead. I'll pump my load out right here, all over the bed sheets, and you won't get a fucking drop of it. And I know how much you love feeling me fill you up," he smiled, stroking my cheek lightly. "So choose wisely. This is your last fucking chance to listen to me," he warned. "Do you understand?"

He was sending me so many mixed signals. His words and actions were like pure maple syrup one second, and salty bitterness the next. He wasn't used to talking to me like this, or handling me like this at all. For a moment, I wondered if he was struggling to gain his footing in this new territory, too.

"Let me fucking ask again," he hissed, bending down towards my head.

I winced briefly as he bent down, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because my thoughts were racing. Still, even though he was calling the shots in the bedroom, I knew he'd never lay a hand on me in any bad way.