Embarrassment should be the leading sentiment but I’m stuck on this gray depths as he drives Ainslee crazy with his fingers and tongue. Each movement zaps me. Oran’s eyes are hot with the desire I’ve always wanted to see from him and his skill is apparent.
I want to close my eyes but Jagger’s hand flexes on my throat every time I try. Oran closes his eyes and I think the moment is over but he looks at me again. He fingers Ainslee in tune with how I’m fucking Jagger. The visual makes me feel like I’m fucking both. My nipples ache and my pussy throbs for release. I might pass out. Holding on tighter, I dig my nails into Jagger’s shoulders at his encouragement.
“Harder, sweet baby. Leave your mark.” His free hand clamps down on one of my boobs and I almost cum from the pressure. I’m so hot but he’s delaying what I need. Even tugging his hair didn’t make him cum. I’m just awarded with him smacking my ass. I changed the angle a little and he growls and bites my damn chin.
It’s enough to pull my orgasm out of me. I cum hard and knowing Oran is watching makes it so damn satisfying. Jagger flips us and now I’m on my back while I’m at his mercy. He delivers slow, hard strokes.
“Your pussy got so fucking wet when Oran watched you. You liked it, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I confess.
He fucks me while staring across the room. There's a softness in his eyes that tells me he sees Ainslee. It doesn’t bother me, but it just occurred to me that he could have feltsomethingfor Ainslee at least physically.
I get the full brunt of his desire when our eyes reconnect. “Would you want to watch him fuck one day?”
I don’t want to get into this subject because I’ve committed to giving my all to Jagger. I don’t want him thinking I’m pining over his best friend.
“It’s okay, sweet baby. You can tell me.” His muscles flex when he grinds into me. “I know where you belong.”
He teases me until I admit it. “Yes. It’d be erotic.”
That's the last thing I say because Jagger fucks me with such intense concentration that I find myself cumming hard and screaming his name in minutes.
* * *
Jagger
Now,this is my kind of wedding. I get cake, pussy, and a show and no one can say a fucking thing about it. I reach into Karessa’s overnight bag and grab a pair of some black, lacy underwear and move back to her spot on the table. I make sure they’re right and begin sliding them up her legs.
“Wait,” she protests. “I need to clean up because someone doesn’t know how to use condoms.”
I snort at her nonsense. “I own the patent on this pussy, and I’m not scared of fatherhood so raw dick is what you get.”
One of the things I’m learning that I like about Karessa is the expressiveness of her face. Her expression tells me almost everything she’s thinking without speaking. Right now, she’s cussing me out mentally but says, “At least give me something I can use to clean up.”
“No. Lift your ass,” I order her as I pull her underwear into place. “I want you coated with my cum the rest of the reception.”
Her expression invites me to kiss her ass but she has no idea all the things I plan to do to that ass. I pull her to me when she sits up and she wraps her arms and legs around me. I kiss her full lips slowly, savoring the way she feels.
“Get dressed before you get me started again.”
She smirks at me but heeds my warning by climbing off me. When she bends to get her outfit, I pat her ass because I can. Otherwise, I behave while she gets dressed. I’ve never considered it to be a sexy experience. I’m usually more interested in taking clothes off. I’ve never just sat in a room and watched my woman get ready.
Karessa’s moves are seductive even when she’s not trying. She slips into a black skirt, wiggling her hips to slide the skin-tight material into place. I groan when she slides a lacy bra thingy over her breasts. It’s not cut exactly like the other bras I’m used to since some of the lace touches her belly. Then she pulls on and buttons a tuxedo blazer that cinches at her waist and stops at her elbows. The lace underneath is still visible.
I bite my lip and pat my dick. I’m trying my best not to fight with my other mother but her daughter is temptation in “fuck me” stilettos.
“How do I look?” she asks and spins to show me her all-black outfit like I didn’t watch her don every piece.
“Like you’re trying to get fucked.”
“Jagger,” she whines but I see the smile. She turns to the mirror she’d used to watch my best friend watch her not even twenty minutes ago. “I’m almost done.”
She runs her fingers through her hair and frowns at me. “You almost fucked out my blowout.” She holds up a finger and grabs her bag. “I planned for such an occasion.”
Her efficiency is also arousing. She pulls out a brush and pins and creates a low bun at the nape of her neck since the front is still curled. After another dig, she produces her makeup bag and does some minor touch ups. When she smooths red lipstain on her lips, I pop up out of my chair.
Giggling, Karessa runs out of the room before I can grab her. I’ll let her make it, but I’ll get her back. Catching up, I grab her hand before we’re visible and steal another kiss. It’s something I’m becoming easily accustomed to doing.
