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into my mouth.
    I couldn’t kiss him back, so I just stayed still, allowing him to tongue-fuck my mouth. But inside I was a boiling, churning mess of sexual frustration. Because it was already clear that he planned to drag this out.
    My eyes fluttered closed as I whimpered. I tried to talk but his grip was too tight. Finally, when Corbin grew tired of tongue-fucking and licking me like his personal lollipop, he forced me to my knees, my hands trailing helplessly down the front of his rock-hard body.
    I looked up at him.  
    He smiled wickedly, pulled his pants down so that only his cock and balls were exposed. Up close, his large erection was insurmountably daunting. Oh, I’d had him before—all of him—down my throat, but it hadn’t been easy. The considerable length of his shaft posed one problem. The girth, though, was the real challenge, and I regretted my boasting.  
    “Maybe…” I began, trying to think of a way to retract my offer without losing face or triggering his sadistic streak.
    “Open.”
    I blinked up at him. The way the light slanted into the shed, I couldn’t see his face; he had been reduced to a masculine outline, a jutting, hungry cock that needed to be satisfied.
    And then the swollen, velvety head slid between my lips. I started to open wider, but Corbin stopped me. “Stay still,” he said. He held my head steady and gently rocked the bulbous tip into my mouth. I felt it flattening my tongue, and I could taste him, slightly salty, completely delicious.  
    He pulled back, let the head of his cock tug at my lower lip. Then he inched forward again.  
    I tried to move away.  
    “Hands on top of your head,” he ordered.
    Well, that was different. Always a new twist. I did as he asked.  
    “Perfect,” he said. “Brace yourself.” He shoved his erection all the way down my throat, making my shoulders hunch as I fought my gag reflex.
    Then I understood. Corbin was going to fuck my mouth roughly, without pity, and he wanted to see my hands so that if I snapped my fingers—my safe gesture—he wouldn’t miss it.
    He pulled out, gave me a moment to catch my breath, then crammed deep again, this time pushing until his body was shoved up against my face, blocking my nose.
    I panicked a little, grabbed onto his wrists.
    “It’s ok,” he breathed. “You can leave your hands there.” He pressed his hips forward more. Even though it didn’t get him deeper, it established that he was in control.
    Corbin had been the first man to dominate me. The first man to make me feel wanted. The first to spoil me, to rescue me, to put my wellbeing ahead of his own desires.
    In my mind, I was well aware that these things didn’t necessarily have anything to do with each other. But in my heart, everything about him was wrapped together. Change one thing—the color of his eyes, the timbre of his voice, the way that he dominated me, let me fight him but then controlled me—and the whole thing might fall apart. I needed him so much that it turned me superstitious.
    That was why I craved his control.
    Or so I told myself.  
    I could feel that I’d soaked my panties. I moaned, then began to choke. Corbin held himself in me a moment before giving me space to breathe, and I slumped back on my heels.  
    “Today I’m going to finish in your mouth,” he warned in a low growl as he plucked off my hat. He laced his fingers in my hair and twisted them tight, bringing me up onto my knees. My arms flailed, then I moved my hands to his hips. Like that would ever stop him from hurting me if he wanted to.
    My eyes stung with tears as he established the rhythm that I needed to follow if I wanted to avoid choking.  
    Thrust in fast.  
    Hold it… hold it… pull out slow.  
    Fast, hold until I was almost asphyxiated, pull back slow. Over and over.
    I felt him swell in my mouth, felt that his cock had gotten a little slicker, his taste a little saltier. He pulled out, and I closed my mouth as I swallowed all that