A Long Con by Layla Wolfe

Author:Layla Wolfe [Wolfe, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

I was having the most erotic dream of my life.

I was face-fucking Berkeley Moynihan against the mattress. He was sucking me, that was what kicked it up several notches.

I’d known this was what I’d wanted for many days now. I just thought I’d spill my load on the bed with the eroticism of the dream.

Second by second, though, I came to the awareness that it wasn’t his mouth sending me into ecstasies—it was his hand. And this was real. And just that realization was the biggest turn-on of my entire life. Berkeley was stroking my ass. He wanted me.

Pretending to still sleep, I wiggled my hips and spread my thighs. The head of my bulging cock was his for the taking. And man, did he take it.

I must’ve spurted a little precome because his fingertips were slippery, sliding up and down the underside of my cock. I caught my breath when he took my entire meat in his hand and jacked it a little. Kokami! I was going to blow my load if he kept this up! And I was still pretending to sleep!

All I wanted was for him to dive in and gorge himself on my heft. I’d had only one guy suck me in my life. Maybe I was basing all my desire on wanting to repeat that one incident. Maybe if I recited it to Berkeley, he’d get a wild hair to re-enact the stunt . . .

I groaned when he removed his hand. This probably let him know I was only faking the sleep. But all cover was blown in the next few seconds when he shoved me by the shoulder and rolled me onto my back.

“Come on, you fucking slave,” he snarled, suddenly angry with me for some reason. I was so dull from much-needed sleep that it took me quite a while to realize he was playing a role. We were enacting a scene, much like I’d done every day for years in the WWE. Except this time, the roaring, vicious Samoan Slammer was the fucking slave.

I tried raising my torso, but he slapped me back onto the pillow. “What?” I said as he whipped something out. Ah. I quickly saw he had those handcuffs with him, and he cuffed my hands in front of my springing, bouncing erection.

Yanking me by the chain, I understood I was to stand. With his free hand, Berkeley turned on the lamp on the nightstand and spanked my ass until I turned around to face the wall. Was he trying to prove how dominant he could be? I slid my bound hands up the wall until I rested my face on my fists, leaving my penis bobbing in the air, my feet spread as if begging for abuse.

Berkeley snarled close to my ear. “You think I’m not a very good Dom because I don’t like inflicting pain?”

“Well—” I wasn’t sure how to react. Did I want to goad him? Did I want to rile him to greater heights of violation? In many ways, I did.

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