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“That’s my good girl.”
Jesus, those words.
He removes his fingers from me and draws them across my bottom lip. “Open.”
Although my clit is throbbing for release, I obey. I suck his fingers into my mouth and run my tongue over them.
He watches me with fire in his eyes. “You enjoying his cum?”
My lips part. I stare at him, stunned. How am I supposed to answer that?
“Don’t worry.” His intense gaze burns into mine, his voice all gravelly. “I’m going to fuck the taste of him right out of your mouth.”
He releases my throat to remove his shirt, and I instantly miss the possessive hold.
With impatience, he hooks the sides of my panties and rips them down my legs, the friction burning my thighs.
My white Chuck Taylors are still on, and he lifts my feet to his stomach. I stifle a giggle. There’s something about this formidable man—with his large hands curled around my small ankles as he pries my panties over my immature sneakers—that makes me smile.
I bet he never saw this coming, never saw himself with a twenty-two-year-old who wears sundresses and Converse instead of seductive lingerie and six-inch heels.
But he doesn’t miss a beat. He drops my feet and panties, going for his pants. The whoosh and snap of his belt is an aphrodisiac, and I recline, spreading my legs for him.
His stormy gray eyes fixate on my center. “I should punish you and not let you come, but damn, I want that pretty pussy milking my cock.”
He palms his thick erection, notches at my entrance, and fills me in a single, demanding thrust. My back arches, and a lusty moan slips from my throat.
“Fuck, you feel even better than I remember.” His soft tone contrasts entirely with the swift pounding of his hips.
No matter what he says, this is a punishment. He’s ripping the pleasure from my body and ensuring I feel him for days—only him.
Ecstasy prickles along my skin like wildfire, and I grip the counter.
“Come on my cock, baby girl.” He slams into me, hitting fucking deep, and circles my clit.
I tighten my legs around his waist, Converse digging into his back to prevent him from stopping. My mind splinters into a million pieces, and I shatter with a strangled scream.
“Fucking hell,” he grits through clenched teeth. “I’m not ready to come yet. Jesus, fuck.”
He doesn’t slow his powerful thrusts until my moans quiet and my body relaxes.
My brain is still foggy when he pulls out, lifts me from the island, and sets me on wobbly legs.
He fists his shaft. “Get on your knees.”
Eager to submit, I drop.
He steps closer and widens his stance. Thumbing his length, he grabs my hair and tugs my head back. “Open.”
I do, without hesitation, and that possessive grip returns to my throat.
He slides his cock along my tongue, stretching my lips, and demands, “Clean him off me,” in that gruff tone that sends a shiver down my spine.
I take him into my mouth, savoring the erotic blend of flavors that explode on my taste buds and elicit a moan.
“You like that, don’t you? You like being my dirty girl?”
His fist wraps in my hair, and I whimper, the restraint shooting straight to my clit.