29
BRADLEY
Drown it out.
She needs me and I want to help her. I want to give her everything she needs for as long as she needs it, everything she wants for as long as she’s with me.
I want to give her the world.
Her eyes glitter as she gazes up at me, and the storm of emotions cascading through them is enough to make my own chest ache. So I lean forward and give her my answer in a single kiss. A single kiss that quickly turns into a frantic exchange as she pulls me closer by my collar and arches her body into me. Soft gasps fall from her lips between each kiss, snatches of air that rush cool air past me and into her lungs. I chase them with kiss after kiss, delving my tongue deep into her mouth and walking her backward until her calves hit the couch.
She’s forced to fall and does so with a grunt, but she curls her hands into my shirt and drags me down with her. Our lips collide and I cup the side of her neck, soaking up the rampant flutter of her racing pulse against my palm.
I need to drown out her thoughts until the only thing that exists inside her heart and soul is me.
Our kiss ends when I lean back and settle on my knees. Zira’s frantic hands aid mine in unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them quickly down her thighs in such a rush that the seams leave a streak of fabric burn down her legs. She kicks her jeans aside as I delve between her legs and kiss quick, open-mouthed kisses over the red lines while curling my tongue to lick and soothe each time. All the way up, I kiss until I’m between her thighs and she curls one hand tightly in my hair.
“Bradley,” Zira gasps.
I look up at her through my lashes and hold her gaze while sinking forward until my open mouth is pressed against her clothed pussy. Then I breathe against her and watch her eyes roll back in her head. Zira collapses back down on the couch, and I press my tongue against her, seeking out the bumps and lines of her folds behind the sheer line of fabric. Four strokes of my tongue and she’s soaking through her panties, her juices spilling across my tongue like a tease. I keep licking until her panties are soaked from our combined efforts and they slide from her hips with the grip of my teeth.
Once discarded, I bury my face against her pussy and breathe in her musk while my tongue slips between her soaked folds, and I commit her to memory. Every subtle bump and rise, every slick fold, every sweet burst of juice, and the way her clit rises to eagerly greet the flat of my tongue. Wrapping my hands around her hips, I draw her firmly against me and devour her, tracing every silky-smooth inch of her while dipping my tongue inside her on each passing.
She trembles and gasps. Her grip in my hair becomes like iron, but the pain of it only further ignites the heat pooling in my gut. I consume her, focusing on her clit with focused sucks and flicks of my tongue, then I lavish attention over her lips and around her entrance.
Her thighs close around my head and her sweet, desperate moans grow muffled the tighter she clenches. Again and again her hips rock against my face, and I keep myself pinned, refusing even a millimeter of space between us.
Zira comes with a trembling cry that jolts her body upward until she’s a trembling, shaking mess in my arms. I kiss her clit and lazily drag my tongue through her folds, sweeping up her juices and swallowing them with a satisfied groan. But when I lean up, our eyes meet and despite the pleasure fogging her eyes, the turmoil remains.
Good, but not enough.
Instantly back on my feet, I lean down and clasp the side of her neck with my hand. That grip allows me to pull her from the couch until she pools at my feet on her knees.
“You’re still thinking, aren’t you?”
Despite the slight twitch in her stature and the frantic pulse against my palm, she nods.
“I’m going to fuck your face until you can’t think, you understand?”
Zira’s eyes darken and they dart to the bulge at my crotch, then she nods.
“Unzip.”
Her hands dart upward and she tugs at my jeans, impatiently tearing at the zipper until it opens and my jeans fall a few inches down my hips. She pushes them the rest of the way, and I slide my hand into her hair, grabbing a fistful like a leash and drawing her in against my clothed cock.
“Three fingers.” I mirror the motion I need by raising the pinky, index, and middle finger of my free hand. I hold them there until she glances up at them. “Three fingers against my abdomen and I’ll stop, okay?”
Zira nods.
“How many?” I ask, still holding them up.
“Three,” she repeats, her voice soft and her breath warm against my boxers.
“That’s it.” I push my boxers down past my hips and free my cock.
Zira’s eyes widen at the sight and she immediately wraps both her hands around my shaft, pulling a grunt from my gut at the softness of her palms. Keeping one hand in her hair, I nudge her hands away with the other.
“On my thighs, darling.”
