His hands drop to my waist and he somehow figures out the intricate fastens with ease.
Dropping to his knees, he slides my pants down, helping guide my legs out, leaving my shoes on my feet.
Feeling silly, I fight my way out of my shirt and pull off my bra as he rubs the length of my legs.
Still on his knees, he says, “You don’t look pregnant.”
I turn so that he’s looking at me from the side. “Is that wistful thinking?”
“Nope.” He gives me a panty-dropping grin that just about melts me. I hate how much I need this man, and that he’s entirely in control.
His warm breath caresses my thighs. I want so badly for his hands to be on me, I’m trembling, but he’s taking his sweet time, studying my reaction. Maybe he’s making mental notes that will end up in his notebook.
“How do you want it?” he asks.
“Filthily,” I reply, an ache building at my core.
“As you wish.”
Without removing my panties, he turns me around and brings one of my legs up, planting my shoed foot on the arm of a chair, and pointing my knee to the side.
With the way I’m spread, I know my silk panties cling to my sex, leaving little to the imagination.
I reach down and pull the elastic from his hair, letting it cascade around his shoulders. Our child really lucked out in the hair gene department. That’s for damn sure.
With his hands on my hips, he leans forward and breathes in my scent. I whimper again, and he chuckles.
“Hurry!” I press my eyes closed, willing him to continue. Praying to God he doesn’t leave me hanging as some kind of sick, twisted joke.
“Ummm,” he groans, nuzzling my pussy. I feel his beard through my panties and on the inside of my thighs and I smile, knowing I’m about to make a total mess of it.
He licks me through the silk, making hungry sounds that turn me into a puddle. It’s a miracle I’m still standing.
“Oh, fuck,” I cry, releasing a shuddering breath.
He grabs the thin fabric between his mouth and my sex and tears them off with a harsh yank, either not knowing or not caring that they cost over one-hundred dollars.
I hope he doesn’t care.
His fingers spread me open, exposing my sex in a way that’s almost clinical—which turns my blood to lava.
Didn’t realize I had that kink.
“Fuck, your pussy is so pretty,” he growls, flicking his tongue over my clit relentlessly as wetness trickles down my thigh that’s still planted on the floor.
With his other hand, he works two fingers into me, past the entrance, deeper, so deep.
“So…fucking…tight…”he growls against my flesh.
I’m shaking, sweating, fighting to remain on my feet.
He takes a deep suck of my clit, and my soul leaves my body. Grabbing his shoulders, I cry out, curling forward as I’m swept away.
I see bursts of white lights as my whole body pulses, greedy for this barbaric man.
Somehow, I don’t fall, largely due to Toxic holding me up. He repositions the chair, pushing me into it.
Looking at him through my lusty haze, I feel a rush of sensations I’m not used to. Warm sensations that give me strange ideas, like maybe I want to cuddle. Not that I would ever suggest such a thing.
