“It’s not my fault,” I say, aware of the dull ache that pulses in my chest.
“That’s my girl. One more time.” He licks again, then slowly circles my clit.
“It’s not my fault.” The words are sinfully guttural.
DiAngelo rumbles his approval against my heated flesh, ravishing me until my orgasm splinters my body into thousands of tiny light fractals. I scream through the ecstatic torrent of pleasure.
“So fucking responsive. So fucking perfect.” He drops tender kisses along my inner thighs as he stands. “We’re going to finish what we started last time. I want to see my cum dotting your perfect tits.”
The clink of his belt buckle coaxes my eyes to open. This is a show I don’t want to miss.
His shirt is already off. I have no idea when that happened. The sight is mesmerizing—muscular pecks lightly feathered with dark hair. Rippling abs leading down to a sharp Adonis-V. He’s so perfectly sculpted that he doesn’t seem real. Like he’s a Roman gladiator who’s lost his way from some faraway field of gold. Except he is real. Every delicious inch of honeyed skin and protective strength.
Real andmine.
This will absolutely crush me when it’s over, but I can’t seem to care. I want him too much to resist.
D has me sit, then helps me to a chair, having me sit crossways so the chair back is to my side. “Hands behind your back,” he commands quietly, freeing his monster cock from his boxer briefs. My mouth waters while I do as he says. He then uses his belt to secure them together before rounding the chair to face me again.
I stick my chest out even farther than needed for my shoulders to be comfortable. I do it for him. I desperately want him to want me. To be as maddeningly addicted to me as I am to him.
His hand trails a finger along my jaw. “Who do you belong to, firefly?”
“You, D.”
“Mmm…” The sound is pure satisfaction.
He fists himself, bringing his cock to my lips. “Show me, Rina. Let me fuck your face and feel my dick bob all the way to the back of that delicate throat of yours.Show me…” The last words are spoken on a hissed breath as I do exactly as I’m told.
I sway back and forth as I lavish his thick sex with attention, my breasts bouncing as I do. The movement tugs at my sensitive flesh, stirring even more need within me.
I moan and swallow with him deep in my mouth.
DiAngelo’s abs flex and strain. He grunts and works his hips, holding the back of my head cupped in his hand.
“Jesus, you’re going to suck the cum from me.” He gently tugs on my hair to separate us. “Spread your legs for me.”
I don’t know what he’s planning, but I do it anyway. He brings his hand to my entrance and slowly inserts a long, thick finger. My head rolls back on a groan.
“You’re so damn tight. We’ll have to be careful when I finally fuck you.” Carefully, he eases a second finger in with the first and gives them a couple of easy pumps inside me.
I arch from the stretch.
“Gooood girl.” He slips out, holding out the fingers now drenched in my arousal. “Beautiful,” he muses. “Now, spit.” He motions to his cock in his other hand.
I spit and watch as he strokes himself, using my cum and saliva as lubrication. It’s so fucking erotic, I have to squirm in my seat.
“None of that,” he warns in a strained voice. “You sit still for me like a good girl and show me where you want this cum.”
I preen, pressing my chest outward.
God, what I wouldn’t give for just a little nipple pinch or a bit of friction. How could I be so damn aroused after having one of the most devastating orgasms of my life only minutes ago?
The answer is DiAngelo.
The sight and smell and feel of him chemically alter my DNA.
When he’s close, I’m no longer Terina.
