A chuckle bursts from my lips. “I might have one in the shed.” My fingers tangle in her red hair that smells like my minty shower gel.
Her head rests on my chest, my heart thumping against her ear, telling her just how much she has my blood pumping. “Your place is nice, Dom. I like it here.”
“Good, because I want you to stay.” My fingers stroke over her hair as we step around the living room, absentmindedly shuffling to the music. “And I don’t just mean until all this blows over. I want you to be a permanent fixture in my life.”
I stop moving in the centre of the room and lift her chin. Her glassy eyes reflect the shimmering lake and my control crumbles. My lips press to hers in a slow, searing kiss. Her delicate fingers graze over my neck as she clings to me while I try to breathe a new lease of life into her, like she’s done to me.
Her tongue flicks against mine, telling me she wants this just as much as I do. She wants it slow, but I don’t know how slow I can go. It’s all or nothing with her.
The record player moves on to the next track, Marvin Gaye, ‘Let’s get it on.’
She pulls away with a giggle. “You have got to be kidding me.”
A grin spreads across my face. My fingers find the hem of her hoodie, or my hoodie, and I tug at it.
She pushes at my chest. “All right, sit on the couch.”
“As long as you haven’t hidden a bundle of rope under the cushion. I’m not falling for your tricks again, woman.”
She gives me a sly grin as she pushes against my chest, coaxing me to her will. My eyes widen as she moves her hips to the music, then lifts her arms, pulling the hoodie over her head. She’s not wearing anything underneath but a black lace bra, making my cock grow at the sight of her beautiful tits. Without taking my eyes off her, I say a silent prayer to the king of soul for this moment.
Knowing she’s doing this for me, despite not wanting to dance again, makes my chest swell along with my dick. I growl, palming my erection.
She moves in sync with the song, so slow and fucking sensual my cock leaks from the tip, moistening my hand like I’m rubbing lotion along my length. Fuck, I’d love to smear it all over her and see her coated in my cum.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Red. My beautiful dancing girl.” Unable to contain my dick in my pants, I tug down the fabric and stroke my thickening erection, letting her see exactly what effect she has on me.
Her fingers tease the waistband of my grey sweats that hug every curve of her body like a pair of leggings. Slowly she reveals her black lace knickers that cover her big ass. I can tell she’s nervous. Her chest heaves with every breath. Her bottom lip trembles, and I want to kiss her worries away. She has nothing to fear with me, only my dick when I rip her in two, but I’ll always put her back together again.
“Get that beautiful ass over here.” I pull my joggers down along with my boxers, kicking them onto the wooden floor. She saunters towards me in rhythm with Marvin Gaye and my cock stands to attention.
Her joggers drop to the floor to join mine. She stands before me in nothing but black lace. I lean forward, my dick pumped just like my heart as I grab her big ass in my hands, my fingers tucking under the elastic. I bring my mouth to her lace covered pussy and inhale her scent that drives me feral like a dog and she’s definitely in heat.
“Are you still plugged?”
Her teeth chew on her lip. She shakes her head. Her hair drapes over her breasts as if painting her skin in a red hue. I slide the lace down her thighs, exposing her pretty pussy. My tongue licks her slit, circling her clit, causing her thighs to vibrate against me.
Glancing up at her, I kiss her pussy. “Relax, Red.” I kiss her clit again with small pecks of admiration, then I go to town with my tongue, licking every crevice between her folds. My finger slips between her ass, sliding back to front, coating her in her arousal. No matter how many times I have this woman, it will never be enough.
24
POPPY
Iwant to dance for him. Maybe he can turn this around for me, so I enjoy dancing again. Though after years of dancing on stage and being objectified, I doubt I'll ever find pleasure in it. But I'd settle for enjoying dancing for my man in private, especially if this is my reward.
When his eyes are on me, I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, powerful, sexy, and loved. I know I’m crazy, he’s crazy. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but this feels so right. He pulls his t-shirt off, exposing his tattoos that I love.
I straddle him, his hands roam my body, and I’ve never felt as worshipped as I do now. With one hand, he unclips my bra, then he pulls the straps down my arms and tosses it to the floor. My breasts hang heavy between us as he fondles them, each stroke travelling to my centre.
I move my lips along his shoulder, kissing a scar there. “What happened here?”
“Old bullet wound from the army. It’s just a scratch.” His rough hands continue to squeeze and play with my nipples.
My fingers trace the outline of a barbed wire heart and skull on his chest as I rock my hips, coating his length in my slickness. “What do these tattoos mean?”
He holds my hand over his heart. “This one is for my mother.” His brown eyes, dull like a dying leaf. “Same with the angel on my back. That was for her, too.” He moves my hand to the other side of his chest. “This one, I just thought looked cool when I was a teenager.” His smile reaches his eyes as if reliving the memory.
“I’d love to have known you as a teenager.”
