She nods. “Mmm hmm.”
As my jeans come undone, she pulls them apart eagerly, her hand dipping inside without question, wrapping around my cock and drawing it out. I’m already leaking pre-come, and I watch in awe as she swipes her thumb across it then brings it to her mouth. Her eyes on mine, she licks the droplet off her thumb and I’m done. This girl has me by the balls and I don’t want her to ever let go.
Desperately, I push the gown off her shoulders, revealing the deep cleft of her clavicle, watching as she takes heaving breaths that flutter in her throat. When her magnificent tits are revealed, my mouth starts to water with anticipation. Her nipples pull hard at the exposure, dark in the center of puckered areolas, calling to my mouth and who am I to argue? I sink down upon the right nipple, ravishing her with teeth and lips, listening to her moans and cries as I suck her deep. My hand at her pussy clenches tight and she gasps as my fingers slip lightly inside and I draw them through her hot, wet folds.
“Saint…”
“Yes, baby. I’m here.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“Never. All of this is mine now, Amara. You need to believe that. Who does this pussy belong to?” I clench my fingers for emphasis, rubbing calloused fingertips against her.
She gasps, her chest rising beneath my lips as she arches back, rocking against the kitchen counter. “It belongs to you, Saint.”
“Damn right it does. And I’m going to take good care of it. Protect it. Love it. There’s nothing I won’t do for you, Amara.”
Her fingers grip tighter to my cock as I nip at her tit, but I need a taste of something sweeter. Pulling away from her grasp, I drop to my knees on the floor in front of her, pulling the cord on her gown as I do so. When it comes free, and she’s finally revealed to me in all her glory, a little growl escapes my lips. I’m so hungry for her. So desperate. Her hand flutters down to her pussy, a little embarrassed, but I pull it away.
“You’re beautiful, Amara. Don’t ever be ashamed of your beauty around me. I want to see you, whole and complete.”
Leaning forward, I place my lips against her glistening intimate lips, my tongue gliding out and drawing her flavor into me. Sweet, sticky, the nectar of the gods. I close my eyes as I savor her, then add my fingers as I return my attention to the pleasure at hand. Leaning my face on her mound, letting her scent fill my nostrils, is like coming home. Dipping fingers and tongue into her sex until she’s panting and bucking against the kitchen counter is my new purpose in life, opening her up, getting her ready for what’s to come.
Because she needs to know I’m hers. Now and forever.
Chapter 10 – Amara
As I come, screaming, writhing against his tongue and fingers, my mind goes blank and it’s a wonder I don’t fall from the counter. But Saint’s strength has me held tight, his free hand at my hips, pinching as I move up and down, rocking my bottom against the cold, hard surface as my hands fly out and up, gripping the nearest cupboard door for support.
The orgasm leaves me struggling for breath, but within seconds he’s in front of me, pushing my knees apart as he leans into me, his mouth on mine in a hard, strong kiss. I can taste myself on his lips and it drives me wild with need. My fingertips glide along his shoulder, his shirt soaked with sweat now, and I finish my earlier task, unfastening the buttons and drawing the material from his torso. Instead of dropping the shirt, I draw it to me, breathing it in, holding it close, unwilling to let go of any part of him.
“Baby, it’s time,” he says, and I shiver as I nod.
I kick at his jeans with my feet, pushing them down as my hands drop to his cock, stroking his length, popping over the bulbous head, filled with blood now, hot to the touch as I kiss him again and again. My body is tense with anticipation of how it will feel this first time, but I want it. I want to give him the gift I can only give once, and I know that he’ll keep it safe, treasure it, hold onto it for the rest of our lives.
When he lifts me from the counter, I press myself against him, wrapping my arms around his neck for support. He’s so strong, it’s unbelievable, his body apparently hewn from the depths of some secret mountain, made of rock and steel. My breasts crush against hard pectorals, my pussy rubs along rippling abs. His skin is dark, the effects of working hard every day, of manual labor. He’s not some poser, with muscles honed in the gym. No. This is the body of a man who works for a living, the body of a man whose physique is built from sweat and grime and aching limbs, forged in the fire of a steel mill.