His come leaking down my thighs

Chapter 4

The video-call tone split the shop air like a blade, and I felt Bruno’s c**k twitch against my tongue. I was already under the tasting counter, my knees pressed into the cool tile, his belt buckle still clicking from where I’d pulled it open. The laptop screen glowed on the marble slab above me, Mona’s face materializing in a wash of hospital fluorescents, and I watched her mouth move before I even registered the sound of her voice.

“Dahlia? Are you there?”

I had his c**k halfway down my throat when I reached up and hit the answer key. My lips stayed locked around the shaft, the head pressing against the back of my throat, and I felt the salt of his pre-c*m smear across my tongue. Bruno’s hand landed in my hair, fingers twisting into the roots, and he pulled me off with a wet pop that I prayed didn’t carry through the mic.

“We should not—” he whispered, his voice low and rough, but I shoved him back under the counter and took him again, deeper this time, my throat opening around the head.

“Dahlia?” Mona’s voice came through the laptop speaker, tinny and high. “I can see the counter. Are you in the tasting room?”

I pulled my mouth off just long enough to say, “Yes, fine,” and the word came out breathy, his c**k resting wet against my lower lip. The pre-c*m beaded at the tip, and I licked it off without thinking, the taste of salt and musk spreading over my tongue.

“What was that noise?” Mona asked, her brow furrowing on the screen. “It sounded like—like something wet.”

Bruno pushed his c**k back into my mouth, and I gagged. The sound came out as a strangled cough, and I turned my head away from the camera just in time, my throat convulsing around him. I swallowed, the spasm pulling him deeper, and I felt his hand tighten in my hair.

“The radio,” I managed, my voice cracking. “I turned it off earlier. It’s—it’s making a static sound.”

Mona’s eyes narrowed. I could see her through the screen, her face tilted, her lips pursed. The camera was propped on the tasting counter, angled down, and I knew my forehead was visible whenever I leaned up. Bruno’s c**k stayed buried in my throat, and I felt the pulse of his heartbeat against my tongue.

“If I didn’t know better,” Mona said slowly, “I’d say you two were hiding something.”

I felt Bruno’s hand push my head down, his c**k sliding to the back of my throat, and I swallowed around him. The wet sound filled my ears, and I prayed the mic wasn’t picking it up. My eyes watered, tears blurring the screen, and I saw Mona’s face flicker with something—suspicion, or just the static of a bad connection.

“We’re just—working,” I said, pulling off just long enough to speak, his c**k slick with my saliva. “The reserve wheels need checking.”

Bruno pushed back in before I finished the sentence, and I felt the head hit the back of my throat again. I swallowed, the muscles of my throat contracting around him, and I heard him groan—a low, guttural sound that vibrated through his c**k into my mouth. I felt my cunt clench around nothing, wetness dripping down my inner thighs onto the tile floor.

“What was that?” Mona asked, her voice sharp. “Was that Bruno?”

I pulled off, gasping, a thread of saliva connecting my lips to the head of his c**k. “He’s—he’s moving wheels,” I said, my voice a breathy mess. “The rack creaks.”

Mona paused. I could hear the hospital PA system in the background, a page for Dr. Chen, and I felt Bruno’s hand on the back of my head, guiding me back down. I took him in, my throat opening, and I felt his c**k pulse against my tongue.

“Alright,” Mona said finally, her voice softer. “I’ll stop by the shop on my way back from rotation in two days. We can have dinner.”

I felt my stomach drop. Two days. Bruno’s c**k slid deeper into my throat, and I swallowed, the motion pulling him in, and I felt his hips jerk.

“That sounds—good,” I managed, pulling off just long enough to say it, his c**k resting wet against my lips. “We’ll—we’ll be here.”

Mona’s face softened. “You sound flushed, sweetheart. Are you coming down with something?”

Bruno pushed his c**k back into my mouth, and I felt the head hit the back of my throat. I swallowed, the gag reflex rising, and I turned it into a cough, my throat convulsing around him. I felt his pre-c*m spill over my tongue, warm and salty.

“Just—just the heat,” I said, pulling off, my voice shaking. “The cave’s warmer than usual.”

Mona nodded, and I saw her glance at something off-screen. “Okay. I’ll let you go. Don’t work too hard.”

The call ended. The screen went dark, and I felt Bruno’s c**k still in my mouth, the taste of his pre-c*m coating my tongue. I pulled off with a wet pop, a thread of saliva connecting my lips to the head, and I saw his eyes dark above me.

“You swallowed,” he said, his voice rough. “Under her voice. With your face on the screen.”

I nodded, my throat aching, the taste of him still on my tongue. I wiped my thumb across my lips, and I saw a thread of his pre-c*m smear across the edge of the phone screen where I’d rested it. I wiped it with my thumb, smearing it across the glass.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now I want to taste you the same way.”

He pulled me up onto the counter, my ass hitting the cold marble, and I felt the edge bite into my lower back. He dropped to his knees between my spread thighs, and I felt his hands push my knees apart, his mouth landing on my cunt.

The first lick was slow, his tongue dragging from my entrance to my c**t, and I felt my whole body arch off the counter. He lapped at my wetness, the sounds obscene and wet, and I felt his tongue push inside me, curling against my inner walls.

“Please,” I heard myself say, the word slipping out before I could stop it. “Please, Daddy.”

He pulled his mouth away, his chin slick with my cream. “Say it again.”

“Please,” I gasped, my hips grinding against his face. “Please, Daddy.”

He pressed two fingers into my cunt, curling them against the rough spot inside me, and I felt my walls clench around them. He sucked my c**t into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the nub, and I felt the orgasm building.

“Please,” I begged, the word coming out broken. “Please, please, please.”

He pulled his fingers out and stood, his c**k hard and slick with my wetness. He lined up at my entrance, the head pressing against my opening, and pushed.

The entry was slow, inch by inch, the head stretching me open, the ring of muscle gripping him. I felt every fold of my inner walls parting around him, the ridge of his c**k dragging over the rough spot inside me, until his hips were flush against mine, his c**k seated deep against my cervix.

“This is what you wanted,” he said, his voice low. “Under the call. With your mouth full of me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I sobbed. “Fill me. Please.”

He pulled out almost all the way, then drove back in, hard. The rhythm was punishing, each stroke hitting my cervix, and I felt my inner walls gripping him like I was trying to pull him deeper. The wet sound of his c**k sliding in and out of my cunt filled the shop, and I felt the counter edge biting into my lower back.

“Your cunt is gripping me like it’s the reserve wheel,” he said, his hand landing on my c**t, his thumb pressing against the nub. “Softening inside. Ready for the final maturation.”

I felt my orgasm building, the heat spreading from my cunt to my belly, my thighs trembling. He drove into me harder, faster, and I felt the first contraction start in my walls, the pulse spreading outward like a wave.

“Come on my c**k,” he commanded. “Now.”

I came with a sharp cry, my body convulsing, my inner walls milking him. I felt the heat spread from my cunt to my belly, my vision blurring, my breath catching in my throat. He followed a second later, his c**k pulsing, hot come flooding my cunt, filling me to the brim.

He pulled out slowly, and I felt his seed leaking down my thighs, warm against the cool air. I felt the come drip onto the marble counter, pooling beneath me, and I heard the wet trickle as it ran down the edge.

He grabbed the tasting notebook from the bench and flipped it open, his pencil scratching across the page. “Softening confirmed,” he wrote, and I saw the words beneath his hand, the official record of the act.

I looked at the notebook, and I saw the entry for tomorrow: “Reserve wheel, core check.” I realized I could use that entry to ask for more inspections, more time alone with him.

He set the pencil down and looked at me, his come still leaking from my cunt onto the counter. “Two days,” he said. “She’ll be here in two days.”

I nodded, the taste of him still on my breath, the tasting notebook with the fake entry lying open on the bench. I felt the come cooling on my thighs, the evidence of what we’d done, and I knew Mona’s suspicion was still hanging in the air, unresolved.