“You always this clumsy with your mouth,” he mutters, thumb pressed against your lower lip, “or you just savin’ all your bad habits for me?”
You flush, fists clenched in your lap. You’re already on your knees, skirt fanned around you like something sweet and sacred, but there’s nothing holy in the way you’re looking at him now, breath quick, lips wet, thighs pressed tight.
Remmick exhales through his nose. Slow. Measured. You can feel the heat of his gaze even when you look away.
“Look at me,” he says, quieter now. “C’mon, doll.”
You glance up. He’s fully hard now, thick and slick, hand wrapped around himself lazy, like he’s not in a hurry, like he’s got all the time in the world to break you in just right.
“I’m gon’ show you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back again, gentle like it means somethin’. “But you gotta listen.”
You nod, lips parting slightly. He hums.
“Start with your tongue. Just light strokes along the tip,” he taps the head of his cock against your tongue, eyes locked on yours— “That’s it…”
You swirl your tongue, tentative. He groans, low and sharp.
“Good,” he says, voice gone gravel rough. “Now kiss it.”
You press your lips against the head, just once, and he breathes out a broken little laugh.
“You kiss prettier than you pray,” he mutters. “Go on. Take a little more.”
You open wider, sliding down slowly, carefully. His hand’s in your hair, not forcing but guiding. You gag too early, and pull back with a cough, eyes watering.
He doesn’t mock. Doesn’t scold. Just strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers.
“Slow, baby. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
You try again. Better. Deeper. And this time when your lips seal around him, he twitches, a curse slipping past clenched teeth.
“That’s it,” he breathes, hips rocking just once, not rough, but heavy. Needy. “You learnin’. I’ll make you good at this if it’s the last thing I do.”
You hum around him, and that’s what snaps it— his restraint, his silence. His jaw locks tight, and he growls low in his chest.
“Fuck. Just like that. Keep goin’, sugar.”
His fingers grip your hair tighter, anchoring you there, guiding you down his length until your nose brushes his skin.
“Hell,” he rasps, watching the tears in your lashes. “You’re gonna ruin me, learnin’ so damn fast.”
Hey, everyone with a pulse is gonna lust after a piece of Maxine Minx once they see what you can do. You know why? Why? ‘Cause you got that X factor.
MIA GOTH in X (2022) • dir. Ti West
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