“Holy shit,” I breathed. My fingers twitched. I needed to reach up and touch him: his sides, his chest, his abs, his dick, anywhere.
“As unlikely as taking a prostate massage from a sexy fucking paramedic,” he went on, his voice a hot breath across my ear, and I flinched when he grazed his lips across my neck. “You enjoyed that,” he accused, his legs like pillars between my knees.
“Hell yes,” I whined, though whether I was reacting to his statement or what he was doing to me was something I didn’t understand. I squirmed on the shitty couch, hunching down toward his legs, responding to his body swaying above mine. I was on fire to touch him.
“Go ahead,” he purred, reading my mind, and at once both my hands shot straight up to his chest, feeling his warm hairless skin and the beat of his heart, the surge of his lungs: I closed my eyes and reveled. “The power of a naked body,” he chuckled against my neck. “The nude spell…”
“You’re incredible,” I whispered, my hands sliding across his ribs, around his sides, toward his waist. “I… I want you…”
“All I asked for was your phone number,” he smiled, raising up from my neck, and suddenly his forehead rested on mine. “You can take my dick out if you want to,” he told me, still with that mocking note, his form still undulating, always in motion.
Hypnotic.
With the last of my sanity I rolled my head sideways, squinting at the door. “Is it locked?” I husked, my voice clouded with lust.
“Do you care, Nadia?”
“Fuck!” I squeaked, totally gone, and then my hands fumbled crazily at his belt buckle. My fingers trembled among the brass and leather as Steve just kept on undulating, his groin making long, slow, swinging thrusts toward where my hips hunched upward like a wind-up machine. His lips continued softly across my neck, my jaw, my shoulder, wherever he felt like putting them: not kissing, really, just brushing my flesh. Reminding me he was there. Letting me know what was on offer.
I fucking loved it.
The belt came apart at last, my hands jittering down until they found a long, slick zipper. I tugged at once, the ridge of his buried dick brushing along the back of my hand, another kind of reminder. Something else on offer. “Goddamn,” I grated, pushing the zipper that last inch down before my desperate fingers plunged straight into his fly, pursuing that hard meat I knew was in there.
Yep. No underwear. Which just turned me on more.
He was long and strong and thick and alive, and my hand closed tight around the ridges of the solid cock I found inside. He chuckled, low and cunning, when he felt me touch him. “Take it out, baby,” he whispered at me, and then his body was arching down against mine and his lips whispered against my own and I suddenly couldn’t get my tongue into his mouth fast enough.
He knew how to kiss, obviously, but he had that extra little schwerve to him that suggested this was more than just experience: he actually wanted to devour me, which still blew my mind. I got his waistband unhooked while he was running his tongue behind my teeth, our spit frosting our chins, and then I gasped into his mouth as I felt his cock spring out, hot and vital against my belly. He was still thrusting slowly, seductively, but this time there was no kind of act or pantomime about it: this time, his every thrust ran his naked penis between my greedy fingers, until with a little detonation of saliva he pulled his lips off mine and stood before me, stepping back a bit.
I sat back, my chest heaving deep breaths into my wild lungs, to see him loom over me, kicking his pants off in a matter-of-fact way, as if he was merely getting ready to hop in the shower. My eyes sank at once to a grossly foreshortened dick, pointing straight at my face. I’d seen it already, jerky and spent after it finally emerged from Ava’s hole, but this? This was different.
This time, he was hard for me.
It trembled proudly, launching out of that intriguingly trimmed trail of pubes, questing above a pair of big, tight balls like a snout sniffing for pussy. I leaned up, my mouth dropping open in delight. He was one of those guys who was pretty much straight, not too long, nice and girthy. His head swung, sleek and smooth, a torpedo aiming for me. I licked my lips and held out my arms. “Come here.”
“Am I still dancing?” He came for me, strutting, knowing his power. And I knew it too, his naked flesh screaming at my hormones, supercharging my pussy. I was already spasming; it was all I could do not to reach down and bury my fingers inside me.
“Come here!” It was a demand this time, throaty and hungry as I leaned forward on the couch with Izzy’s wrecked skirt bunched over my mound. He was looking down there, nodding knowingly at the sight of my creamed thong, his hands resting lightly on his muscled hips.
“Guess you liked the show,” he mused, and then, impossibly, he was right up in front of me, his feet outside mine as I curled forward. I could feel my tits brush my thighs, my neck straining to get my face lined up with that glorious cock. He nodded down at me, his eyes glittering. “See? You’re under the spell.”
“You’re perfect,” I gushed, mouth and pussy, savoring his evenly bouncing head. I could smell him, clean and sharp and male, my hands moving to his bare thighs as though magnetized.
Pages:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12