All Chapters of Kiss It Better: Chapter 271 - Chapter 280

I knew Fred’s cock was huge, but seeing it from this angle and then taking it into my mouth makes me appreciate it even more.It makes me think of being at the dentist’s office. “Open wide” is taking on a whole new meaning.Is it possible to break your jaw around a penis? I guess I’m going to find out.I do my best to be aware of my teeth as his rigid, hot shaft slides between my lips. I’m ashamed of the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing, but when Fred grabs the back of my head and begins to thrust, effectively fucking my mouth, I realize that I don’t have to know; he’s in complete control.“Good girl,” he purrs, pumping in and out. “Please your daddy just like that.”Something warm and salty spills onto my tongue. It must be pre-cum, and I swallow it eagerly. All it does is turn me on even more. Fred reaches back and caresses me with one hand, causing my legs to jump. I’m still sensitive from what he just did to me, but my body is already begging for more.“You look so pretty s

“What are those things you have there?”I jerk up, startled. His question washes over me like a wave upon a shore, and I shoot him my most insincere smile. He edges closer, his eyes dead set on mine, his steps firm, curiousity wafting off his sharp features as he picks up the sketch. Shit, I really didn't see him coming. I thought he had his hands full with his customers.He stared at the sketch for what felt like hours, but was just five minutes, and set it down in front of me. Our eyes lock, and I know I'm about to be fucked. Hard.Well, it won't matter as long as he's the one doing the fucking.“You know what would be much better, baby girl?”I gulp, shaking my head. The tease in his tone is making my toes curl.Before I can process what is happening, he takes his shirt off, and pushes his pants down. I stifle a gasp as his hardened cock springs free, dangling as he strikes a pose.“Sketch me. Up close, and personal.”—Ever since Waverly discovered the lush pub at the corner down

Waverly high-tails away from me across the bar, her golden ponytail swishing behind her. She’s in a sage green dress tonight, the fabric dancing around her thighs, while leather boots cling to her calves.My nostrils flare as I watch her leave, sucking in a sharp breath. Why is it always so hard to watch that young woman walk away from me? Why does it feel so wrong?She’s too young for you, asshole, a voice mutters in my head. It’s my voice, because I’ve been telling myself the same thing for months. It’s been one hell of a long, frustrating summer.But Waverly is too young, too sweet, too shy, too everything for a cranky old bastard like me to be panting after her. Better to not go there, to not let my thoughts stray in that direction, because if I get caught up in thoughts of Waverly flushed and begging on her knees, blue eyes wide, her ponytail wrapped around my fist—Shit.Now I’m sporting wood in my own damn bar.The locals lounge in their regular booths, surrounded by half-empty

I’m less alive when I’m not at Kyle’s bar. Less substantial, somehow. Like a strong gust of wind might blow me away, atom by atom, until I fade like an old picture in the sun.Everything else is a blur. Running errands, cooking meals on the hot plate in my tiny rented room, drawing commissions to keep some money trickling in—nothing holds my full attention. Not anymore. Not since him. I stumble through my days in a trance, mind elsewhere, until night falls and I can finally slip through the doorway at Kyle’s.Then: noises are full and rich again, pressing against my ear drums. The heat and humidity tickles my skin, and the taste of whiskey mists the air.I’m here at last, rooted in my body, fully alive once more as I slip through the crowds of drinkers to find a good spot to sketch. When I glance at Kyle’s closed office door, a knot in my chest loosens.Because—it’s okay. The boss here didn’t see my sketches last night; my cover isn’t blown. I haven’t ruined everything with one coward

In hindsight, I should’ve worn a better shirt. If I planned to make this gamble, if I meant to challenge Waverly to draw me tonight, I should’ve spruced myself up a bit first.Instead I’m the same careworn bastard that I always am, with a faded shirt and in need of a shave—and now I can’t stop glancing at my own reflection in the dark office window, tugging at my collar as I fight wave after wave of unease.It seemed like such a genius brainwave out there, to suggest this to Waverly. Seemed right.Now I feel like a prize jackass. Why on earth would a sweet little thing like Waverly want to hang around after hours to draw me?“Prick,” I mutter, dragging my attention away from the warped, ghoulish reflection in the window, back to the financial spreadsheets on my computer screen. Christ, this view is no better. Groaning, I scrub a palm down my face, then force myself back to work.Oh, the bar’s finances are just fine. We had a bumper summer, but still.I’m not built to sit in squeaky de