She’s pinned by my body, but I’m crushed by hers. The heat of her bare skin seeps through my shirt, while her tongue greedily pushes past my lips. Carnal, indelicate. The chemistry between us the other night was incredible – but this is another level.
It’s incendiary.
We kiss like we’re the last people on earth after a lifetime of wandering alone.
Story’s bare pussy spreads against the crotch of my jeans. The denim offering the friction she needs, writhing against my dick. The sensation wreaks havoc on my ability to think, because all I want to do is lose myself in her.
Her thighs squeeze my hips. My cock throbs.
This is going to be over far too quickly.
Wrapping my palm around the delicate column of her throat, fingers cupping her jaw, I have to prize her away from my mouth.
Air passes staccato through her puffy, swollen lips. Chest heaving. Her cheeks have that rosy glow travelling down to her chest, her pupils blown so wide that I can barely see any of the pale brown I love so much. She’s so close I’d only have to rock my hips once against her clit. But I have other plans.
“You’re not coming like this again, Stor.” I growl anddrop to my knees.
Arousal drips down her thighs, a silvery patch glowing like moonlight and lighting my way.
Glancing up I’m treated to the sight of her watching me, breasts cupped and squeezed together, as she pinches her tight nipples. I’ve never wanted to fuck someone more.
Spreading her with my thumbs, I take a moment to revel in her soaked pussy then get to work. Slow. Firm. Deep.
She tastes like soap, she smells like heat and all I hear are the muffled “yeah. . . right there” and “just like that” of encouragement, one hand thrown over her face, the other digging into my shoulder.
When my tongue pulls firm and flat along her slit, flicking her clit, my name falls off her lips as though it’s been dragged from the depths of her soul.
Like she owns it.
Like I’m hers.
I eat her like my last meal. Lips suction on her clit, and she grinds against me, breathlessly begging me not to stop.
When she finally gives in, Story’s knees buckle and I grip her trembling thighs as tightly as her fists clutch my hair, until she slumps against the wall on a massive, shuddering orgasm. “Hen, fuck, yes . . .HEN!”
Her pussy clamps hard on my tongue, and I keep going determined to draw out every drop of pleasure. Lap after lap, until her palms are pushing against my forehead and she’s gasping for breath.
“Oh . . . no more . . . I can’t . . . take it . . .”
I stand, pressing my lips to her, and scoop her limpbody up. My cock twitches at the moan she lets out, tasting herself on my tongue.
“Oh, yes you can. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”
I don’t point out I will never be done with her.
CHAPTER 27
Story
When I walk to school the following morning, I do so bow-legged.
I’m both exhausted and exhilarated.
Every time I yawn, I think about another position Hendricks had me in, once more bringing out my inner contortionist. We fucked all over the house, moving from room to room until it was time to wave the white flag and fall asleep.
My limbs, still soft and gelatinous, are working out how to function. So when I turn the corner toward the school gates and a woman walking in the opposite direction bumps into me before I can dodge her, I have neither the dexterity nor the reflexes to hold the folder I’m carrying, along with a tote bag filled with pink and red cards. Today, we’re making valentines.
“Oh crap.” I watch as papers float around me and drift to the ground.
