“Come here,” I tell her, crooking my finger. She bites her lip, eyes dipping to the bulge in my jeans.
She saunters across the room, standing between my spread legs. I splay my hand up her stomach, feeling her breath as it hitches from my contact.
“You’re so fucking perfect. You know that, right?”
“I’m perfect for you.” She rolls her eyes.
“You’re perfect to me, for me. I fucking love you so much, it makes my chest ache.” Her pretty mouth parts, her palm skating over my forearm, holding on. “I love you too.” She swallows, her glassy eyes shining. I move my hand down her body, hooking my fingers into her panties and slipping them down her thighs. “Step out, baby,” I urge her, then drink her in before propping her ass on the edge of my desk.
Lifting her foot, I place it on the arm of my chair and grip her thighs, spreading her open for me. Her scent is intoxicating, sending me fucking wild. I kiss the delicate skin there, then drag my tongue up the seam of her pussy, separating her pretty lips, tasting her. Moaning, she arches her back, her hand gripping my hair, guiding me.
Flicking my tongue over her clit, I suck, kiss, massage with my tongue, until she’s writhing, panting for more. “I need more,” she pleads. I push her chest down until she’s flat on her back, my tongue still lapping her pussy. Unbuttoning my jeans, my cock springs free, seeking out her heat. Replacing my tongue with the pad of my thumb working her clit, I line my cock up with her wet hole and push in deep.
“Oh, fuck,” she cries out. Her hands move to her tits. She kneads them, sweat coating her skin as pure fucking lust and need override everything else. Tight walls contract around my dick, demanding more. I thrust hard, rocking the table, gripping her hip, forcing her down on me as I push forward. Teeth gritted, jaw clenched, I fuck her raw, feeling everything she is. I circle her clit until she’s sobbing, shaking, her toes curling. “Alec, I’m coming. Fuck yes, I’m coming,” she cries, her pussy pulsing, milking my release with hers. When my legs gain their blood back I scoop her up and take her to our bed to draw a few more orgasms from her.
Twenty-Four
Drew
My mouth is so dry, it feels gross closing it. Pulling on one of Alec’s T-shirts and my panties, I creep from the room, dodging a couple of passed out bikers in the lounge. Pushing into the kitchen, I gasp, my heart thundering. “What the hell are you doing in the dark?” I wince, flicking the light on, and stare open-mouthed at Heidi bent over the counter, her round belly hanging over the edge, her elbows propping her up, panties around her ankles, and the beautiful biker Halo behind her, his dick buried deep. I didn’t even know she was here. Mason left before anyone even got back. Silence falls over the room. My mouth unhinged at the sight of them. This is awkward as hell. “Don’t you have a room?” I rush out. And a husband?
“Drew,” she breathes, eyes expanding, lips forming an O. She seems stunned to see me.
“You wanna pull out or just keep going?” I ask the man staring over at me, his jaw clenched. Moving away from her, his dick slaps his fucking thigh as he pulls out, drawing my eyes to it. Oh my fucking God. It’s a stereotype to say black men have big cocks, but, in this case, holy-mother-of-fucking-God. It looks like an eggplant. “What are you doing here?” Heidi asks, pulling up her panties with difficulty, her protruding stomach causing her grief. Surely Mason mentioned me being home.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” she rushes out.
“Well…” Halo holds his hands up, which screams, “Kinda is.” He tucks his cock away, and I sigh in relief. I’m going to be walking bowlegged just from seeing his manhood.
“Shut up,” Heidi growls at him.
“She has fucking eyes, Di.”
“Are you going to tell Mason?” God, am I dreaming this shit? Since when do we tattletale? This can’t be real life.
“You should fucking tell Mason,” Halo growls, walking over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. I need one of those. I move to the fridge, feeling like I scored when I find a carton of OJ.
“I can’t tell him. I’m fucking pregnant, in case you forgot,” she snaps.
“Bitch, there’s a fifty percent chance that baby is coming out with brown skin,” he scoffs in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to be telling people you’re fucking another brother’s wife,” I remind him. “Aren’t there rules about that shit?” I slam the fridge shut and gulp down the nectar straight from the carton. I don’t want to be touching glasses left around with these two assholes in here fucking. “He fucks anything with a pulse,” she scoffs, then adds, “What the fuck are you doing here?” like I’m the one in the wrong.