Forbidden Cravings-Chapter 33: Sara’s Dominance (R-18)

Our lips crashed together, the kiss rough and messy, her beer-soaked breath mixing with mine as I grabbed her waist, my hands digging into her hips.

Sara pulled me, stumbling us back until her spine hit the wall with a dull thud. I slid my palms down, grabbing her thighs—firm, warm under her denim skirt—and hoisted them up, wrapping them around my waist.

She locked her boots behind my back, and we kissed and kissed, a frantic tangle of lips and heat, the air thick with the brothel's musk scent and her sharp perfume.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips brushing mine as she smirked, her eyes glinting wicked.

"So the baby does know how to kiss a woman," she said, her voice low and taunting, her fingers tracing my jaw like she was testing me.

"Hufff," I exhaled hard, my chest heaving, my hands still gripping her thighs as I met her stare. "Obviously—I work at a brothel," I said, no point hiding it now.

Sweat prickled my neck, my hairs tipped ahead from the heat of her pulling at me.

"Let's see how good you really are, then," she said, her smirk widening, a challenge sparking in her tone.

She pushed off the wall, slipping out of my grip, her boots clicking as she turned and walked toward the bed. She stopped at the edge, her back to me, and reached for her denim skirt.

With a quick flick, she undid the belt, the metal buckle clinking loud in the quiet, then popped the button loose. The skirt slid down her thighs, pooling on the floor in a crumpled heap, leaving her in black lace panties that hugged her hips tight.

She glanced over her shoulder, her hair falling wild across her face, and smirked again.

"Come here," she said, her voice smooth and commanding, crooking a finger at me like I was some dog she could whistle for.

Her jacket hung loose, her bralet barely holding her boobs in, and that grin—sharp, evil—made my stomach twist. I didn't like this, not one damn bit, but I was stuck. She had me by the throat with that secret, and I had no choice but to play along.

I stepped forward slow, my boots scuffing the gritty floor, my jaw tight as I closed the gap. She turned fully, sitting onto the bed, the mattress pressed under her weight, and spread her legs wide, deliberate, her boots dangling off the edge.

"Kneel down," she commanded, her tone firm, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to hesitate.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and dropped to my knees in front of her, the cold floor biting through my black jeans. My hands hovered, unsure where to go, as she leaned back on her elbows, watching me like a queen on a throne.

She grabbed the hem of her panties then, her fingers hooking under the lace, and slid them off slow—teasingly slow—peeling them down her thighs, past her knees, until she flicked them off with a twist of her wrist. They sailed through the air, hitting my face soft and damp before dropping to the ground, a faint whiff of her scent lingering as they landed by my knee.

She sat there now, bralet and jacket still on, but from the waist down, fully naked—exposed, shameless. Her pussy glistened pink in the dim light, adorable in a twisted way, seductive as hell, her thighs framing it like a damn invitation.

She smirked wider, her hand drifting down, fingers circling slow over her pussy, showcasing it to me with a lazy, taunting swirl.

"Open your mouth," she said, her voice dropping low, smooth as silk, "and show me your tongue."

I gulped again, my pulse hammering, my hands clenching into fists on my thighs. No way out—her eyes pinned me, unrelenting, and I forced my jaw to loosen, parting my lips slow, sticking my tongue out like a dog to satisfy her. It felt humiliating.

"Good," she said, her smirk turning sharper, leaning forward a bit, her hair spilling over her shoulders. "Now lick it." Her command hung heavy, her fingers still circling her labia, her legs spreading a fraction wider, waiting for me to obey.

This woman—arghh, she was pushing every damn button I had. *I'll show her later,* I thought, my mind simmering with a mix of irritation and resolve, but deep down, I knew I was stuck. I'd done this a hundred times before—clients at the brothel, faces blending together—so what was one more, right? Didn't matter much in the grand scheme, except this was Sara, and she'd milk this for all it was worth, humiliating me every chance she got from here on out.

I sighed hard inside

I leaned in, pressing my face between her thighs, the heat of her hitting me first—sharp, musky, her skin slick with anticipation. My tongue darted out, licking up and down her wet labia slow at first, tasting her juices, salty and warm, coating my mouth as I worked.

"Ahhhh, fuck..." Sara moaned, her voice ripping through the quiet, raw and loud, her head tilting back as her hands shot to my hair.

Her fingers twisted hard, yanking at my hairs pulling me closer like she owned me. Her smirk gone now, replaced by parted lips and heavy breaths.

"Ahhh, yes... just like that... keep at it," she said, her tone commanding, needy, her eyes half-lidded as she stared down at me. "Put your tongue inside too—don't slack off." Her boots dangled off the bed's edge, brushing my sides, and I could feel her thighs flexing, urging me on.

I sucked her pussy harder, my lips pressing tight against her pussy, drawing her in, then slid my tongue inside her hole, pushing deep. Her walls were smooth, slick, pulsing around me as I twirled it slow, exploring her, the taste flooding my senses—sharp, intense, undeniable.

"Ahh... yeahhh... haahhuhh... ahhh..." she groaned, her moans stacking up, loud and messy. Her thighs clamped around my face, clutching me tight, her body leaning back as she braced herself with one hand on the bed, the other still tangled in my hair, tugging harder.

She put her legs over my shoulders, her boots digging into my back as I gave her head, my tongue working faster on her vagina, caught in her rhythm.

"Don't stop..ahh..I'm gonna cum... ahh... more..." she said, her voice hitching, desperate, her hips bucking as she rode my face, chasing her climax.

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The bed creaked louder, protesting under her shifting weight, her jacket slipping further down her arms, her bralet barely holding on as she arched up, her pussy grinding against my mouth with every thrust.

"Arghhhhh, fuck!" she cried out, her grip tightening—nails scraping my scalp, thighs squeezing my head—as she hit her peak, her orgasm crashing over her. Her release hit my face, wet and warm, her juices dripping down my chin as her legs shivered hard, trembling against my shoulders.

Her eyes rolled up, whites flashing, her head tipping back as she rode it out, her body shuddering, her breath ragged and wild.

I grabbed her thighs tight, my fingers sinking into her soft flesh, holding her steady as she moved her hips against my face, riding herself through the last waves, her pussy pulsing on my tongue.

My own breath short as I stayed there, locked in her grip, the taste of her lingering heavy as she came down.