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The moment Chad has you on your knees, he knows he made the right choice.
You look so pretty, so perfect, like you were made to kneel in front of him just like this. He tangles a hand in your hair, gripping, and not gently. Hard enough to force your head back enough to look him in the eye. Your lips are parted, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed.
“Look at you…”
His words are slow and drawn out, his free hand sliding down his abdomen to free himself from his pants. You let out a whining sound that has Chad cooing at you.
“I know, sugar, I know. Open up more.”
You do, lips opening wider, tongue sticking out without him having to ask. He smirks, watching your eyes widen as he taps the head of his cock against your tongue. He watches your throat move as you swallow around nothing.
“Fuck, you’re pretty!” His voice is softer than he expects.
Your eyes are blinking up at him so sweetly before he thrusts forward, pushing himself into your mouth. You gag just a bit, then swallow, wrapping your lips around him, and you let him control the pace. He grips your hair tighter, pushing and pulling to guide your head around his cock. The warmth of your mouth and the slick of your saliva has him groaning, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his head falls back.
Your nails dig into his thighs, and he hisses a bit. He tightens his grip in your hair and he can both hear and feel you cry out, the vibration against his cock making him buck into your mouth. You gag again, spit leaking down your chin and your neck and soaking the fabric of his pants. You close your eyes and Chad growls.
“Look at me.” Your eyes snap back open, meeting his gaze again. “Did I say you could look away?”
You whimper, the flesh of your mouth and tongue fluttering around him. Chad grunts with each little thrust of his hips down your throat, the sight of you all messy on your knees driving him closer and closer to the edge.
He keeps his eyes on yours, his free hand wrapping around your neck as he roughly forces your head back and forth. His fingers grip your throat, tightening just enough to have you feeling lightheaded. Your grip on his thighs tightens.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
He warns you at least.
His thrusts slow, but his hips snap roughly once, twice, three times until he’s crying out your name, head falling back as his come fills your mouth. He bobs your head a few times to ride himself through it. He can feel you start to choke and he pulls back, dick limp and covered in saliva and come.
“Don’t swallow.” He says, his hand sliding out of your hair to your chin, gripping it tightly. “Open up. Show me.”
You seem to blink at him a few times as you hesitate, maybe nervous. He raises his brows and your lips fall open, mouth full of a mix of saliva and cum. He drags his fingers across your tongue, spreading the mess around and encouraging it down your chin. He tilts his head, then pulls his fingers away, patting your cheek and leaving a trail of wetness there too.
“You can swallow now, sugar. Then get off the floor, we have dinner plans.”