Page 309 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

GEORGIA

“You don’t want to… have sex?” I asked. What he was asking pushed every one of my triggers. He’d see me naked. He’d see me down there REALLY up close and personal. I’d be sitting on him. I didn’t have small thighs and I wasn’t light. I could literally smother him to death.

I didn’t pull out a mirror or anything… well, okay, I had that one time when Keely took some weird women’s empowerment class in college and had to explore our femininity for homework. She’d gotten me in on the concept, although we’d done the exploring in separate bathrooms.

The view was… weird. I definitely wasn’t a lesbian and why any guy wanted to go down there was–

“Fuck yes, I want to have sex. But I don’t have a condom. Do you?”

I laughed at the irony of it all. We’d been driving each other crazy ever since I arrived, the need for his dick had been so powerful ever since I’d been on my knees in the baggage claim and he’d taken his belt off. But now I couldn’t have it. Or at least not the way I wanted it.

“Yeah, no.” The last thing I’d expected to do in Montana was… this.

He crooked a finger and I walked closer. He was being patient, but I felt like it was only going to last so long, like once he got his hands on me, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

That worked for me.

Reaching out, he hooked a hand around my waist and pulled me in close so I stood between his spread knees.

The air was warm, but goose bumps still rose on my skin.

I gave him credit for holding my gaze when my boobs were right at eye level.

They ached to be touched by him again. My nipples throbbed for his attention.

“Is your apprehension about me going down on you in general or sitting on my face?”

I licked my lips. “You said you wanted thick thighs and curves. I just don’t want to kill you with them. Your department would show up and I really don’t want to explain what happened.”

“What a way to go.” He grinned, then nodded. “I know what the problem is and it’s my fault.”

“Yours?” What could he have possibly done wrong?

“You’re thinking too much.” His eyes raked down my body and settled on my boobs. “I’m going to solve that right now.”

Pulling me into him, he set his mouth over my nipple. Yes. Yes. Even through my bra I felt it. The tug. The pull. The–

“Oh dear Lord.”

He wasn’t gentle, but I didn’t want that. I needed to know he craved me as much as I did him. And this was only his mouth on me.

I felt his grin as he kissed along my cleavage and then gave my other nipple the same attention. Back and forth he went until I was writhing, my fingers caught in his hair.

“These tits. Fuck. I’ve fantasized about them so much.”

The clasp was undone and he moved away only long enough for my bra to fall to the floor.

He growled, eyes darkening and heating in turn. A fuck yes escaped his lips before he went back to work. The feel of his mustache against my skin only enhanced the sensations. Raspy. Tickling. Soft. His calloused hands cupped. Kneaded. Fingers brushed over my nipples. Tugged.

“Ohhhhhh,” I moaned.

He turned and tipped me so I was on my back on the bed and he loomed over. The feel of him pressing into me was potent. He was solid. Sturdy. I felt small and feminine and overpowered–in the good he’s going to claim me sort of way.

His attention didn’t waver from his task.

I had no idea how long he played with my breasts, but it was a while.

Minutes. Hours. I didn’t care. My fingers yanked, then pushed him closer.

Then tugged. I was close to coming from just this alone.

How was that possible? Oh Lord, it felt so good.

My pussy ached, lonely and wet. Why wasn’t he giving the rest of me any attention?

Eventually, he kissed across my bare stomach. YES!

Fingers hooked into my panties and they slipped down my legs as he worked his way lower. I lifted my hips, helped him slip them off.

Somehow, watching him toss a scrap of lace over his shoulder was really hot.

When I was bare, he finally lifted his head, looked up my body at me. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Lifting up onto my elbows, I met his gaze. I could only imagine what I looked like, my nipples all wet and hard from his mouth and fingers. He knelt on the floor between my legs. He could see my pussy. All of me.

Then he leaned in and gave me a lick, as if I was the tastiest of ice cream cones. I sure as hell was dripping like one, melting in the heat of his gaze.

“Mac,” I whispered, arching my back.

He stood.

“No!” I gasped. One lick was not enough.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you more.”

He dropped onto the bed beside me, which made me bounce.

He manhandled me as if I weighed nothing, moving me so I straddled his chest. I hovered over him, my legs straddling his narrow hips.

His hands went to my breasts and he cupped and played with them some more.

My back arched and I stared at the ceiling.

He was definitely a boob man.

“Come higher, gorgeous.”

I shimmied up his torso but either not fast enough or not the way he wanted because his hold moved to my hips and pulled me up so I knelt over his face. I had to admit, just the way he was moving me around was a turn on.

I looked down at him. “What about you?” I asked. He was still tucked away in his jeans. I’d felt it earlier and he had to be uncomfortable.

“You want to suck my dick?” He turned his head and kissed the sensitive skin on inside of my thigh.

I bit my lip. I wasn’t going to think about how it had been in the past with Art. Mac asked about his dick. Yes, I wanted to suck it. I was hovering over his head, my pussy so close to his face that his warm breath fanned my heated–and very wet–center.

I couldn’t be nervous or embarrassed any longer. Not with how he touched me. Looked at me. Made me feel.

“Yes.” Was that my voice? The one word sounded sultry and deep.

“Turn around.”

I frowned, then caught on. Oh yes, please.

Carefully, so I didn’t knee him in the head, I shifted to face his feet.

“Good girl.” He groaned. “Your ass is perfection. Take me out.”

He lifted his hips so I could push his jeans and boxers down enough so his dick sprang free.

“Oh my stars.”

He was big. Porn star big, although I’d never seen porn, so maybe he was just normal sized, and Art had only sported a baby pickle in his pants.

I licked my lips because suddenly my mouth watered.

Dicks weren’t that attractive, but Mac’s?

Plum colored. Long. Thick. Bulbous head.

The skin was smooth and taut and he was hard.

It curved up to his navel and there was a drop of fluid at the slit.

My mouth watered. I had to taste it.

So I did.

He hissed and tensed. I licked the slit again, then swirled my tongue around the crown. “This looks just like a fireman’s hat,” I said, taking the tip into my mouth.

He laughed, but then growled at the same time his dick pulsed against my tongue. A salty burst of pre-cum coated my tongue.

“Who’s in charge here?” he asked when I gave it a little suck.

I giggled, hovering right over him. I felt pretty and desired and a little bit of a tease. “Me.”

I gasped when he grabbed my hips, pulled me down and put his mouth on me. The hot feel of his tongue was so incredible.

“MAC!” I shouted and rolled my hips as he licked me right up the center and swirled around my clit. He found my clit. No road map. No instruction manual. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Get my dick in that sweet mouth and I won’t.”