Page 7

Sherman

The way Miranda touches my stomach as if she doesn’t care that I’m turning soft, her plump ass beneath my hand, her breasts pressed against me, her little tongue playing with mine, her cherry pie flavor overwhelming my senses…It’s all too much and too little. I’m hungry for more.

I slide a hand up her bare arm to thumb the left strap of her cute tank top, gently tugging on it. Knowing I’m going too fast, I stop myself from pulling it down. I need to be content with kissing her, which is more than I deserve, instead of pushing her further.

Miranda ends the kiss. Damnit , I did push her too far just by touching her strap. I should have known better. I should have given her a few kisses before stepping away and keeping my distance. But after weeks of pining for a taste of my angel every moment of every day, I’m starving. Ravenous. And I lost control.

I lean back in my seat and pinch the bridge of my nose, mumbling out an apology.

“Sir?”

My eyes snap open, seeing hers are bright but hooded, her cheeks as heated as mine. She grabs my hand and brings it back to her strap, arching her back. When I pinch the material, she smiles and draws my hand down.

I don’t miss the way her eyes flare as I pull the material lower, discovering that she’s not wearing a bra again, and I get my first glimpse of her full breast and hard, pink nipple. She’s as turned on as I am, and my cock swells larger against the zipper of my jeans.

I can’t decide where to look—her angelic face or her cherry tip begging for my mouth. “Angel?” I croak out the question, still looking up and down.

Miranda straightens her back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I watch, utterly entranced and at her mercy, as she swipes her index finger through some of the pie filling and slowly teases her nipple. “Taste me, sir,” she whispers.

One second, I’m staring at the most beautiful woman ever to exist, and the next, I have my mouth wrapped around the sweetest, most heavenly dessert known to man, swirling my tongue around her bud. Miranda gasps and palms the back of my head, pressing on it to bury my face in her supple breasts.

I tug the other tank top strap down, kissing across her chest until I can draw her untouched nipple deep into my mouth.

Miranda moans and wiggles on my lap. “I didn’t know it would feel this good.”

I pull back, hardly able to catch my breath. “This is your first time having a man kiss you here?” I rub a circle over her wet nipple with my thumb.

Miranda stands between my thighs, and I reluctantly drop my hand when she tugs her tank top up and over her head. “My first everything, sir,” she says with a sultry smile. She leans back against the table and lifts her skirt up to her hips, propping her right foot on my left knee, giving me a glimpse of her white panties.

I slide my hand up her leg and tease the middle of her panties with my thumb, finding the fabric wet with her arousal. I should be ashamed of the filth that spills out of me when I ask, “No one’s ever tasted the sweet cherry between your legs?”

Miranda shakes her head and arches her back, swiveling her hips to chase my thumb. “Do you want a taste, sir?”

She moans when I sweep the pie plate to the side so I can grab her waist and set her on the edge of the table, her legs spread to fit my hips. I start with her lips, then kiss my way down, toying with each nipple as I slowly lower her on her back. She makes a squeal of surprise when I tug her skirt and panties down her legs and off her feet, tossing them behind me, and then grab her ankles to set her heels on the edge.

Yanking my chair closer, I sit down and palm Miranda’s inner thighs, spreading her wide enough to bury my face in her short curls, closing my eyes as I take a long inhale of her feminine scent. I roll my eyes up to meet hers, seeing her propped up on her elbows as she watches me with feverish eyes as I take my first taste, licking a long line up between her pussy lips.

“I knew it, angel. Knew you’d taste as sweet as your desserts.” Miranda’s eyes roll back in her head with a moan, and her arms give out when I find and toy with her clit with the tip of my tongue. My mouth runs away with me again when I say, “ You are the real dessert, and this cherry is all mine, isn’t that right, angel?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Fischer!”

“No more ‘Mr. Fischer’. I want to hear you scream my first name when I make you cum.” I rip my zipper down and fist my hard cock as I push my tongue inside her pussy, curling it as I withdraw, drinking her down. I move my other hand up to toy with her clit, wishing I had more hands so I could pinch and play with her nipples, too.

“Sherman!” Miranda tangles one of her hands in my hair as her hips rock off the table with a particularly high-pitched moan until it’s broken by a silent scream, her pussy contracting around my tongue, more arousal spilling down my throat as she cums. As soon as her inner walls relax, I stand up fast, knocking back the chair on the tile floor. I press my cockhead to her entrance, half a second from thrusting inside before wrenching my hips backward, breathing hard.

Miranda shakily sits back up on her elbows, brows pinched, messy strands of her gorgeous hair falling out of her braid. “What’s wrong? Do you not want to…” She leans on one elbow to motion toward my hard cock that’s begging to be buried inside her.

“Oh, angel.” I push my hands under her back and gather her in my arms, loving how she wraps her legs around my waist to hold herself up. “Angel, angel, my angel,” I say reverently. “Of course I want to. But not here.”

It’s been over ten years since I bought this house, and I know my way around without having to look away from her angelic face as I hurry us toward my bedroom, our lips and tongues moving together in perfect synchrony.