“I know we’re taking it slow . . .”
“Yeah . . .”
“But I’d really like you to fuck me right now. I just haven’t stopped thinking—”
I capture the next words from her mouth with mine, the end of the sentence falling on a sigh. My hands skim down her body, roughing over her breasts, until they land at her waist.
“I don’t have a condom,” I groan, the words washing over her lips.
“I’m on the pill,” she breathes back, her kisses never ceasing. “Are you clean?”
I nod, tugging at her bottom lip with my teeth. She pulls it away.
“Me too,” she whispers, her hands digging at my hips.
Lifting my hips, I shove them over and twist until they’re somewhere low enough so I can be free. Her lips roam over mine, our tongues melting together, lapping up the other’s desire in a heated, passionate frenzy.
Her legs grip my thighs on either side of me. When my hands touch her soft skin, it’s heaven on Earth. I sink back into the sofa and let myself enjoy this moment, her little moans, her hair brushing against my arms, the wetness from between her legs dripping on my cock as she brushes it teasingly against me.
My palms smooth against her thighs, committing the sensation to memory. I scoot my hands under the edge of her dress to feel no barrier between us.
Growling at her pantiless state, the concept such a fucking turn-on, she kisses me even harder, making it impossible to concentrate on any given part of this entire experience.
I typically stay in complete control of situations, but this little vixen in the form of an innocent little mommy, has me whipped into a mess.
Letting two of my fingertips wisp against her pubic bone, her breath catches in her throat. I bite on her bottom lip, tugging her mouth back to mine, and she yelps—half in pleasure, half in pain—before sucking my lip between her teeth.
One hand holds her hip, the other splays against her midsection. My thumb finds her clit and as soon as contact is made, she nearly falls apart in my hands.
She grinds her wetness up and down my shaft, so ready for me that I can’t take it. She can’t either because as I begin to lift her, she reaches down, palming my cock in her hands. Before I can say a word, she sits down on me. Her tightness pulses around me, her breath coming out in ragged bursts.
I pull my face away from hers, my hands finding the side of her angelic face. As much as I want to thrust into her sweet little pussy, I find myself wanting to savor the moment of feeling, for the first time in maybe forever, able to breathe.
Barrett
THE TELEVISION IS ON, THE volume low, and Alison is giggling at my side. I have no idea what’s actually happening in the movie or what made me bring a plate of Brie, crackers, and fruit into bed, effectively breaking a huge rule of my own.
I’m lost in the sound of her voice echoing off the walls of my bedroom. I’m perplexed by the fact that I’m not sure this room will feel the same without her in it now.
Women have been in my bed before. They’ve stayed the night, stayed the weekend. But as soon as they look at home propped up on my pillows, I’m usually ready to ship them out. So why do I want to lock her down so she can never leave?
She pops a strawberry in her mouth, her lips forming an ‘o’ over the fruit. Her features are animated, soft, uncomplicated. She catches me staring and drops her hands to the bed.
“What?” she asks, swallowing the bite of fruit.
“Nothing,” I grin.
“You’re looking at me weird.”
“Looking at you like you’re beautiful is weird now?”
Her grin widens and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re a charmer, Landry.”
“You’re a beauty, Miss Baker.”
I lean over the tray between us and kiss her lazily. Her mouth is sweet like the fruit and I could go back in for thirds, since I had her once we got in here too, but I don’t.
My landline rings, the handset beside my bed rattling, making Alison jump.