Page 8

“Do you like how sweet you are?” He asks, pulling back his brow quirked in curiosity.
“I like what you like — tonight.” I hurry to add, not wanting to give too much of myself to this man.
“You like pussy? You want a third?” He questions, I know, testing my boundaries. Already shaking my head. “I don’t share.” I hold his gaze letting him know just how firm that boundary is.
“Me either. Kneel.” He orders, taking half a step back.
Unbelievably, I do, pushing past the trash heap of memories, knowing I want this for me as much as it will please him. My terms, my pleasure, my fucking choice.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” Looking up, I see softness in his eyes for the first time tonight.
Something in me preens from his words, making me want to please him knowing that he powerfulness I feel being the arbiter and the sole source of his desire.
Slowly, I take him in hand pumping g his dick. A big dollop of come drips from his dick falling to my tongue just as I cover the tip with my mouth.
“Hot little fucking mouth,” He groans, giving me a little thrust.
I take him back then, farther still. He doesn’t press he lets me do what I will. A feeling of elation wraps around me as I pump and suck on the fulsome length of him. I can barely take half, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His hand comes to rest on the crown of my head, but he only delves into my curls. The gentle pressure of his hand spurs me along. Soon the rhythm I’ve set has me taking him like a champ. I want this. The masculine musk of his sex coupled with the velvet steel of his length has my nipples budding as a pounding pressure builds in my sex. I’m slick with need for him.
“Get up.” Pulling me to my feet, turning and pressing me into the glass wall. Nudging my legs he whispers, “Bend for me.” I do. Looking over my shoulder, I stare into his eyes. “Yes, keep those pretty brown eyes on as I split this pretty ass pussy open.”
I’m caught in the magic of his gaze as he pushes inside of me with a deliciously aching glide.
“Fuck, Lyric. Your pussy’s so fucking tight.” I watch as his eyes roll as he grits against the pressure. “Push back on me, yes, that’s it lil’ mama, just like that. Good girl.” He encourages as he makes me take every inch of him in what seems like an endless drive.
“Damn girl,” he hisses. His abs flexing from the exertion.
I’ll never say I’m a quitter. But for a moment there, I don’t think I can take him.
“You okay?” The question coming out on a pant. For a moment I want to disconnect, but his words of concern bring me back.
“Yeah, I think so.” Even I can hear my uncertainty. His gaze holds so many questions. Questions I’m not ready to answer.
“Kiss me, Hassan, please,” I whimper.
Something crosses his features for a moment at the obvious vulnerability he hears, but he leans in anyway, taking my lips in the lovely gentleness of his kiss.
Inhaling his delicious scent, I lose myself in the beauty of it. As he tastes me like it’s the first time. As if I am something to be savored, treasured, cherished. His.
I let myself believe it because tonight — just for tonight it’s true.
Long moments pass as my body slowly accepts his. Then, with the mildest yet wildest tangle of tongues, we start moving together.
Our bodies glide in a sensual dance. He presses deep, nearly but not quite bottoming out. Then with a reverse move he slides out, only to return, bringing pleasure along with a little taste of pain.
Immediately, I feel him graze my spot with a shift of his hips.
“Ahh.” The cry escape me on its on volition.
“That’s it?” Comes the question as he drives more purposefully against it again.
“Yeah, yeah,” the words end on a breath as he robs me of words fucking me with an almost vicious relentlessness.
“Hassan,” pleading as he drives me to my tip toes, forcing me higher and higher as he fucks me into the glass of the shower. My eyes water.
“I like how you say my name,” he praises.
“Say it again.” Urging, his hips surging, our bodies slap into each other every time we meet.