Licking up the rest of the cream, I inch my way up her body until I’m hovering above her.
She’s breathless and buzzing with lust, looking like she’s ready to kill me.
Firmly grasping her chin, I open her mouth, fixating on her enticing, full lips. Memories flood my mind of her head hanging off the bed last night as she eagerly let me fuck that beautiful mouth of hers.
That bratty mouth I adore so much.
Fucking hell, man.
Leaning closer, I spit the ice cream directly into her open mouth. My fingers circle her clit right as she swallows, and Zoe calls out my name, grabbing the back of my head as she pulls me into a deep kiss. We become an instant, sticky mess. The taste of her still lingers on my tongue, mixed with notes of vanilla ice cream. We are a tangled web of desire I never want to escape from.
Zoe pulls hard on my drawstring, keen to set my cock free.
“Did you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Does your pussy feel empty?”
“Yes,” she whimpers.
I’m on cloud fucking nine.
“Mmmm, good girl. Are you going to beg for my cock?”
Right as Zoe’s hand wraps around me, there is a loud banging on the door.
“Fuck,” we say in unison as I rest my forehead against hers.
”Who the hell could that be?” I groan.
“Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll go away,” Zoe whispers.
“Zoe? Are you in there?” Aaron’s booming voice and pounding fists echo behind my door.
“Oh my god.” Zoe panics, immediately jumping off the countertop.
Gritting my teeth, I pull up my pants and silently curse Aaron for interrupting my dessert. Running my hand through my hair several times, I chuckle as Zoe hops around, looking for something to wear. Of course of all the nights to rip her shirt, it had to be tonight.
“Go hide upstairs. I’ll deal with your brother.”
Zoe runs for the stairs, her face filled with sheer terror as she stumbles on the first step. The control that man has on her.
It needs to change.
The lock clicks open.
Something tells me Aaron has come here looking for a fight, and I’ve been itching for him to pull a stupid move like this for months.
He steps into my dim foyer, hair disheveled and looking utterly exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept in months. Even his tie is askew, which is so unlike him.
He seems surprised to see me in my own house.
“Is everything okay?” I lean against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.
“So, you’re just not answering the door anymore?”
“Well, if you gave me two minutes before barging in, I would have.”
