Page 8 of Frost My Cookie

“I bet you taste so sweet.” His eyes are on mine as he says that. Just the way he speaks to me has me ready for him.

“Why don’t you find out?”

The smile he gives me is nothing short of predatory. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He pushes me back until I’m almost flat against the desk, then flips me over, maneuvering my legs under me. With my butt in the air facing him, he plays with the hem of my panties before smacking my butt and gripping it with his fingers. “So fucking perfect,” he says reverently. “Your ass is just so fucking perfect.”

Then the kinky motherfucker presses his face right in between my cheeks and inhales. The squeak that escapes me turns into a languid moan as his tongue slides up and down the flimsy material. The sensation is so erotic it has my legs shaking. He reaches to my bra, unclasping it with one hand while the other moves my panties aside, his fingers brushing against my dripping folds. He groans as he spreads my ass. His mouth lands back on my asshole, and he begins licking it with such passion I can barely hold in the loud moans. Every so often, his tongue licks down and catches my pussy, sending me into a type of frenzy I have not experienced in my entire life. So when his finger dips inside me, it’s only natural that I start coming, and coming, and coming as he moans against me.

I’m still shaking, a skillful finger still inside me, moving lazily when his lips move to my ass and he bites me on the cheek.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

“Branding you, Sugar. You are mine.”

Normally, that would send me running for the hills. But the guy did just give me one of the most intense orgasms of my life while rimming me, so I let it slide. Plus, Ireallywant him inside me.

“Are you going to stand there all day and chat, or are you going to fuck me?”

The sound of his belt being unbuckled and the zipper sliding down is my answer. I want to see him. See his dick before he enters me, but all thoughts of that fly out as he presses his tip against my opening.

“Fuck.” He freezes.

“What is it?” I try with all my might not to push against him.

“I don’t have a condom.” His heat leaves my entrance, and I nearly cry in protest.

Scrambling back onto my butt, I grab his arm. And pull him back to me. “I’m on the pill, and I have not had sex since my last physical.”

“I’ve just had mine—everything was clear.”

I exhale with relief. “I—I’ve never done it without a condom,” I admit.

“Neither have I.”

My gaze travels down his chest and rock-hard abs and settles on his impressive cock bobbing in between us. He was right, the dick cookies were tiny compared to him. Suddenly, I wish I hadn’t seen it before he attempts to rip me in half. Because that surely is what’s going to happen.

Here lies Natasha Collins. She died after being ripped in half while riding a huge cock.

My sister, Sasha, would definitely put that on my epitaph. The thought alone makes me giggle.

“I hope you’re not laughing at my dick,” he says, raising his eyebrow and leaning over me, his arms caging me in.

“More like death by your dick?”

“Death by my dick? I can assure you, he’s not going to kill you. He’ll take care of you and he’ll make you feel good. You might lose consciousness from how good, actually.”

I sigh, wistfully, “Those are some big words from someone with a big dick. But tell me, Hulk, are they all empty?”

“Hulk, eh?” He smirks. Then he lifts his palm up and spits on his fingers before pressing them against my clit and circling them around, spreading the wetness. It’s so erotic, filthy, yet caring at the same time. “Why don’t I show you instead?”

His mouth crushes to mine as the head of his cock presses against my entrance and pushes the head in, his fingers still rubbing my clit. We both moan at the feeling of him inside. He rocks in and out, pushing a tiny bit further in with each movement, until finally, with a groan, he’s fully inside. He stays there, unmoving, kissing me deeply while letting me adjust to the feel and stretch of his size.

My hands sneak around his neck, and my legs wrap around his waist as he renews his rocking motion.

“You’re so perfect, Sugar. How are you so perfect?” he whispers against my lips. “I don’t understand. I don’t want to. Fuuuuck. You feel like you were made for me. Tell me you were made for me.”

His words have my blood pumping faster and my heart skipping a beat. The problem is, I feel it too. No one has ever felt this good. I try to tell myself it’s just his big dick and nothing more, but then he pinches my nipple.


Tags: J. Preston Romance