“It’s always for you, Merce. You’re all I fucking want.”Pump.“My everything.”Ram.“You feel that?”More.“My piercing marking your throat?”Thrust.“You.”Again.“Are.”Harder.“Mine.”
She unabashedly takes what I give her, bobbing with all she’s got. Tears cascade over her flushed cheeks as she watches me beneath the fan of her dark lashes.
Radiant.
I collect the salty droplets with my thumb, depositing them on my tongue and suspending my climax to bestow one more truth. “Every part of you tastes like hope. You’re the only place it exists.”
As my cock swells in her mouth, she nods and hums, encouraging me to fill her. That’s my undoing.
“Fucking hell, Merce. I’m gonna come.” With a jagged pump, my orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, hitting again and again, a drawled curse escaping me. My entire body shakes, muscles seizing, clouds fringing my vision. The euphoric quakes blast up through my chest and down to my toes as my cum shoots into her throat. Decimating.
“That’s my girl. Swallow for me.”
She does, showing me her tongue when she’s done. Christ, this woman.
Reaching down, I whisk her into my arms, flattening her to the wall as I conquer her mouth in a bruising kiss, tasting the remnants of myself. “You’re fucking perfect. A fantasy. But we’re not done here. My turn to worship.”
Unfastening her jeans, I yank them and her panties down in a smooth sweep and plunge two fingers inside her.
She cries out, rivaling the crowd we’re hiding from, her hips swinging forward in search of friction.
“So wet. You’ve dreamed of sucking me off, haven’t you, Merce? Craved it?”
Biting her lip, she nods through her erotic haze, her eyes hooded. Drugged on us far more than whatever alcohol or pot remains in her system.
My naughty vixen.
She’ll never grasp what that simple gesture means to me, how her wanting me feels like my greatest achievement. The culmination of hopes that hung by a precarious, tattered wire.
Dropping to my knees, I spread her legs as wide as they’ll go within the shackles of the pants around her ankles and plant my face between her thighs. She has the most exquisite pussy—finely trimmed brown hair, dark pink, and pulsing with need. Weeping for me. And her flavor is cherries and sugar, comfort and triumph.
Her arousal paints my scruff as a growl thunders from the depths of my chest.
“Your cunt is sweeter than cake, baby. Fucking hope.”
“I really need you inside me, Ryker.”
She’s half delirious. Her ire wouldn’t have allowed her to admit that otherwise. Pride surges through me as I realize I’ve learned her, that I can sense the rhythm that unravels her, the pressure that tips her over the edge, the filthy words that seep through the cracks in her veneer.
Still …
“Not like this. My cock won’t sink into this perfect pussy until you can give me all of you. Not stolen pieces in a hidden room for one night.” I resume my meal, consuming her with the insatiable hunger rushing over me.
Accepting that answer, she loses herself inus. Her hands fisting my hair. Her hips swiveling to take what she needs. My teeth graze over her clit, my fingers pump in and out, and my tongue licks and laves and swirls until she’s writhing, carnal and crazed.
“Ryker. Oh my … that’s it. Don’t stop. I’m gonna … I’m gonna come.” Her incoherent mutterings prevail as she soars into oblivion, rocking against my mouth to drain every morsel of ecstasy from me.
And I remain laser-focused on her pussy pulsing around my fingers, the gush of her sugary cum coating my tongue, the beads of sweat glistening from her pores. Her whimpers of rapture and the trust she’s offering.
Her legs tremor from the aftershocks, her knees obviously weak. I pull up her soaked panties and jeans, stuff my erect-again dick into my pants, and scoop her up. Our mouths collide in another punishing fusion, the elixir of the two of us together exploding on my tongue as she curls herself around me.
“That’s the flavor of forever, Mercy.”
Her chest shudders against me. She hooks her arms behind my neck, thighs squeezing my hips, face buried in my shirt.
I inhale a whiff of her cherry-dessert scent, the aroma of home. “Tell me you get it now. That you feel it. This is how it should’ve always been. Your pain, your past, your heartaches and burdens—all mine.”
“Truth?” she whispers as the dueling pianos show persists beyond the walls.
