Khane
Desiree had no idea that she scared me. She made me nervous. Me, someone that had an intimate relationship with death was scared of a woman. I had fought my way through the deepest trenches of hell. Had survived not one but two deadly gunshots, and had been stabbed and cut open multiple times as well as tossed from a moving truck.
However, nothing in my life had been as overwhelmingly terrifying as the connection between Desiree and me. I was reading the signs as clearly as my good eye could see but still found it difficult to believe that she was this into me.
Her pupils had dilated, leaving only the outer edges brown. Her skin burned with the heat of her desire, so warm with flowing sensuality that it spilled into my fingertips and drew me into her flames. She couldn’t stop touching me even as her hands trembled against me with each stroke.
If I allowed myself to believe she was genuinely interested, there was no telling how far I would go with her. I was better off believing she was using me, rebelling to combat her obvious dislike for her arranged marriage.
Undecided about the reasons for her actions, I couldn’t deny that we had serious chemistry. It was so vibrant and strong that it had sprung up and took such a tight hold on me, I couldn’t shake it loose.
Fighting any of Desiree’s advances had been useless, even though I knew I should. I was face-to-face with a situation where desire had punched guilt in the face and knocked it unconscious. I had never betrayed my brother, and although I understood Desiree’s point of view where it concerned their arrangement, I still…
Shit!
The hand I had slid under her shirt revealed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her flesh was so warm against my hand it burned, sending an ache of passion through me so strong, I shuddered. The actions I was taking were so uncharacteristic of me that I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
She was in soft cotton stretchable pants, and I wore sweats so there wasn’t enough material between us to keep me from feeling the imprint of her pussy with every turn she made on my dick. The heat that emanated from her scorching center set me aflame and singed every nerve ending along my skin.
This was her idea of compromising? Fucking me with her clothes on. I had secretly wanted Desiree for years, so it didn’t take much for her to send me soaring to Mars.
This was more than I could bear. The woman of my dreams had not only landed in my house, but she had approached me with interest. She had kissed me and was now dry fucking me. I hadn’t asked for it nor had I initiated any of it. I had made every attempt to avoid our compulsive connection until she put her sexy lips on mine, and sat her sexy ass on my dick.
“Desiree,” I whispered, nipping her ear lobe.
“Yes.” The word whispered into the wind like a held note of a love song.
I was too far gone to stop myself from embracing the explosion of need she had cracked open. Desiree had broken something inside me. My fucking off switch.
“Can I touch your pussy?”
“Mmm…” she moaned at my question. “Yes, please.”
“Take my hand and slide it into your panties.”
Issuing that simple command had my dick leaking. She lifted our interlocked hands before placing mine flat against her warm stomach. Her eager obedience drove me insane.
The sight of my hand sliding down her stomach led by the tight grip she had on my wrist made the fire in me blaze out of control. The warm tender skin of her neck was being caressed by my lips and tongue.
The heat emanating from between her satiny thighs warmed my fingertips, making them ache to touch the source of the fire. Each time she rotated, her plump ass stirred across my dick with ease and caused me to slip further away.
When she moved my hand past the elastic waistband of her pants, and it slipped into her panties, my already uneven breaths sped faster, and my chest heaved. My airflow became restricted, and my lungs worked overtime to supply me the oxygen I needed to think, live, and breathe.
Sensing her every desire had motivated me to focus on giving her the pleasure her body begged for. “First you take a wrecking ball to my mind with your beautiful chaos, now you’re inflicting the same level of charming madness to my body,” I whispered.
“I’m not that talented,” she replied. “You did this to me. You keep breaking me apart, piece by piece, and pulling out the parts that want this, that need you.”
She wasn’t making any sense, but it didn’t stop me from exploring her body. The tips of my probing fingers brushed past the low patch of hair on her pussy until my middle finger found wet heat and slipped over her hard clit.
We gasped, her in pleasure and me in reaction to her sensual response to my forbidden touch. You didn’t get this wet for a man unless you wanted him. Unless you needed him to fuck you. She was the wettest any woman had ever been for me, and I prayed for the ability to satisfy her the way she craved and deserved.
The light stroke of my finger teased her clit before it dipped lower. I used my ring and index fingers to spread her slick lips open, and the hot juices from her tight little pussy soaked my middle finger. She was so receptive of me that every move we made was a gift that I know I didn’t deserve.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice low and dripping seduction. Her tone was also laced with desire, revealing how neck-deep we had fallen. My thumb teased her nipple as I squeezed her full breast, somehow pulling pleasure from the elicit touch.
Her passionate moans, my hand inside her panties, and her dewy fresh scent mingled with her arousal and had worked in ungluing me from my control. She had captured the few threads of willpower I had left and ripped them apart at the seams. I was a captive in this moment with her, exploring a pleasure I had never known, satisfying a desire I didn’t know I had, and living out one of my greatest fantasies.
“You make me feel so good.” She moaned her words and continued to urge me as her body waved and begged for more. That I had the ability to bring her this much pleasure, motivated me to keep giving it, however she wanted it.