Meanwhile, Mrs. Moody clutched the neck of her nightgown. “Thank Goodness he’s locked up! How long is he in for?”
Without meaning to, I locked eyes with Winona. “Life, ma’am.”
Winona snorted.
“Well then. I guess it’s time you get going,” Mrs. Moody said.
But Winona stopped laughing, her patience with Mrs. Moody's meddling clearly worn thin. “I was actually going to invite Mr. Harrington inside for an alcoholic nightcap.”
My eyebrow lifted. Aren’t they all alcoholic? But Winona was making a point.
“I’m also going to get him to inspect my underwear drawer. Make sure nothing else is missing.”
Mrs. Moody, scandalized, sputtered. But I didn’t hear the words that came out next, because Winona had taken me bythe collar and dragged me inside, slamming the door behind her.
She dipped her forehead against my chest, her hand still clinging to my shirt. Her shoulders shook with laughter. “I can’t believe I just said that.” Her eyes snapped up at me, her laughter ceasing. “It’s just for show, Mitchell. Don’t worry. You’re not staying.”
“Do I still get to look in your underwear drawer?”
Her eyes flickered. “No. But you can inspect the undergarments I’m wearing now.”
She hooked her fingers in the neck of her sweater, and before I knew what was happening, she’d tugged the soft, giving neck down. It slipped right down her arms, bunching at her waist, and just like that, Winona’s bra was right there before me. This one was simpler than the one she’d left at my place. No fancy stitching. No frilly edges. Instead, it was black. And sheer.
I could see everything.
The smooth globes of her tits. Her pink nipples, tightening into points under my ravenous gaze.
“Not fucking fair, Winona,” I snarled.
I dropped to my knees. Here, they were at the perfect height. Without thinking anything exceptthis, only this, I took her sheathed nipple into my mouth, bra and all. She let out a cry as I sucked it deep enough to stroke with my tongue. As I did the same to the other one, I uttered a string of words I could barely understand.
“Fucking perfect,” I think were some of them. “Better than perfect.”
I knew I had to stop. I was going to, I promised myself. But I had to know. I looked up to meet her eyes and tugged the straps of the garment down. “You discovered my Kryptonite, Firecracker.”
Her eyes flamed as her breasts were freed.
I stared for what felt like a lifetime, my dick turning to stone, before dragging my hands upward, cupping my fingers into place.
“You were right,” she whispered.
They did fit perfectly. Better than any way I could have imagined it.
“Fuck,” I breathed, incapable of any other word. I took her left nipple in my mouth, then more, gently tonguing the tip, then nipping her tender flesh. Gently at first, then a little harder. I was testing her. I didn’t know what she liked, but I suspected my firecracker liked a little bite.
She gasped, nearly melting into me.
So that was a go.
I shaped those beautiful breasts into even more perfect points and took the other nipple next, flicking it several times before sinking my teeth onto that one too. It was too hard, maybe, just this close to pain, but she was pushing her body into mine, making sounds that were going to make me spill all over the inside of my pants.
I wasn’t a masochist. But with Winona, I wanted up against that line between what she was scared of and what she wanted. I wanted to know where she’d push back. Take over. Call me names and then beg me to do it again.
I backed my head away, still grasping each voluminous tit in my hands. I eyed the red marks I’d made; the glistening wetness of the tips of both breasts.
“You’re an animal, Mitchell,” she breathed.
“Only for you, Winona.”
