Chapter 5: The Lesson
The air in Maya's bedroom hung thick with the ghost of his joke, that careless quip about needing a team. She saw it land in his hazel eyes, that flicker of something hungry, and it curdled something inside her. Quietly, almost without thinking, she reached for her phone. One text to Marcus, the big powerlifting guy who always smiled at her on the squat rack. "Come over. Tonight. My treat." He was there in twenty minutes, filling her doorway with his bulk, and Maya watched Derek's face go slack. She smiled, a predator's grin. "Kneel," she said, and Derek's knees hit the carpet before his brain caught up. Maya turned to Marcus, running a hand over his chest, and then she was riding him, her muscles rippling with impossible strength, pinning his wrists above his head as she took what she wanted. Derek watched, everything inside him aching, erected and broken at once, knowing exactly what this was and hating how much he loved it.
Marcus's cock slipped out of her with a wet sound as Maya slid down his body, his wrists still pinned above his head by her grip. She glanced over her shoulder at Derek, kneeling on the carpet, and her smile turned cruel. "You wanted a team, baby. This is what a team looks like." She lowered her mouth onto Marcus's shaft, and Derek watched her throat work, watched her take him to the root. The suction power she'd discovered that morning came alive, drawing a strangled groan from Marcus as his hips bucked. Derek's cock throbbed painfully against his jeans, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. Maya pulled off with a pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to the tip. "Watch close," she said, voice husky. "I want you to see exactly how a real man gets it." And she was swallowing him again, her mouth a hungry, perfect vice, while Derek knelt there burning.
She pulled off Marcus with a slick, deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving Derek's trembling form. "You're missing the show from down there," she said, and with a flick of her wrist, Derek's body shot backward, slamming into the wooden desk chair across the room. The chair tipped, then righted itself as her telekinesis held him fast, his arms pinned to the armrests, chest heaving against invisible bonds. "No running. No hiding. You watch." She climbed back onto Marcus, sinking down onto his rock-hard cock with a low moan, her hips grinding slow circles as her muscles clenched and rippled around him. "This is what I need, Derek. Someone who can take what I give." Marcus groaned, fists gripping the sheets, and Maya rode him harder, her thighs trembling with power, her gaze locked on her boyfriend's face as tears of pure, agonized arousal streaked down his cheeks.
She pulled off Marcus with a sigh, sliding down his slick torso until her face hovered over his cock again. But this time, she didn't look at what she was doing. Her sharp dark eyes fixed on Derek, pinned and trembling in the chair, and held him there as she lowered her mouth onto Marcus's shaft. She took him slow, inch by inch, her tongue curling around the head as her lips stretched, and Derek watched her throat bulge with each deliberate swallow. Her gaze never wavered, never blinked. Marcus groaned, his hips lifting, but she pinned his thighs flat with a flex of her telekinetic will. She sucked hard, that impossible vacuum drawing a raw, animal sound from his chest, and Derek's own cock twitched painfully, soaked through his jeans, his moan caught between shame and need. She pulled off just enough to breathe, spit glistening, and whispered, "You see? You see what you're missing?" Then she took Marcus to the root again, her eyes still locked on Derek, daring him to look away.