What the hell is wrong with me? It’s like I’m seventeen again, begging my high school girlfriend to do it “just a little bit” because I don’t have a condom.
“Sorry, I—” I say, embarrassed by my heathen urges.
Rather than back off or tell me to fuck off, she lowers herself down my length slowly.
I drop my head to her shoulder, damn near blacking out, and rope my arms around her waist, anchoring her to me. Or myself to her?
A wave of déjà vu drowns me, like I’ve experienced this before. But I don’t have the capacity to work out what that means. Because right now, this vision of a woman is riding my cock.Raw.I’ve only ever done this with one other woman, and it’s been years.
This was a terrible idea. Why give a mouse a cookie, knowing he’s going to want some milk?
As she lifts and lowers again, I home in on the place we’re joined, mesmerized. Fuck. I want to burn the sensual image in my brain.
“What do you need, baby? How can I make you feel good?” I ask.
Though her pleasure is always my priority, I may have anulterior motive. It’s imperative now that I get her to the finish line before I cross it myself.
“Play with my clit,” she breathes.
I press my thumb to her mouth until she opens. “Suck on it.”
Nope. Shit. Terrible idea again. I ought to have my head checked. My logical thinking abilities are seriously disturbed. If only I knew a doctor…
This combination of her tongue dancing around my thumb, the ferocity with which she sucks, and the slow, tormenting way she rides me, may be my carnage.
When I tenderly rub circles over her clit, Claire throws her head back. Without her eyes on me, I’m afforded time to think about anything but prematurely coming inside her.
Like what color Bea will paint my nails next.
And sending Zion’s husband a birthday present.
Or playing golf with my dad, Ezra, and Kane.
Yeah, that’ll do it.
Until a sexy mewl escapes her lips.
“Baby, you’re going to kill me if you keep moaning like that,” I growl. With a shaky hand, I pluck a loofah—with tags still attached, I notice—from the shelf in the wall and shove it into her wide-open mouth, effectively gagging her.
Up and down my dick she goes.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly. When her face pinches, I know she’s close. Iprayshe’s close.
You can do it, Greer. Hang in there, buddy. Just a little longer.
She picks up her pace, and my confidence drops.
Painted nails.
Zion’s husband.
Golf and Ezra.
She grasps for purchase on my back, the sting of her nails on my skin a welcome distraction, and drops her head to my shoulder, her climactic cries garbled because of the loofah.
Her pussy flutters around me.Fuckfuckfuck. I can’t take it anymore.
Heart thundering, I lift her off my lap. She braces herself with her hands on my shoulders just as I shoot off my load. I paint her lower belly with cum, thus creating the prettiest masterpiece in history. I’d commission this work of art and display it on my wall if I could.
