Page 38 of Saxon

"Hey." Her voice is low and brimming with arousal.

I open my eyes and find hers inches from mine. "Hmm?"

"Watch."

"Terra, you—"

Her fingers flatten against my lips, silencing me. "I do what I want. Always. And what I want right now is for you to watch me do this. Watch me take what I want from you."

"Fuck," I breathe. "Terra…"

She pulls her bustier down, baring those magnificent breasts for me. Instantly, my cock turns from steel to diamond, visibly twitching. She laughs, her eyes finding mine.

"Can't get much more validation than that, can I?"

"Let me get naked with you and I'll show you validation."

"Saxon, that is a promise you are damn well going to keep, even if I have to follow you down to hell."

She wraps her fingers around me, then, pulling me away from my torso. Glides the circle of her fingers down my length, thumb pressing against my tip, smearing the leaking pre-cum.

Her touch is magic. Better than I could have expected. Heat smashes through me, arousal pulsing in every synapse, every nerve ending. I want more. Just her hand. Never stop. God, please, never stop.

"I have no intention of stopping, Saxon," she whispers, planting another soft kiss on my jaw, right next to my ear.

Shit, I didn't know I'd spoken aloud.

"Watch," she whispers. Kisses my jaw. My lips, stealing a too-brief kiss. "Watch me, Saxon."

Jesus. How could I look away? Her tits spill over my thighs as she trails kisses down the center of my chest. My hips lift involuntarily, my stomach curling in. My cock aches. Strains. Rages. Leaks.

The soft globes of lovely flesh drape against me, pressing, pressing as she kisses lower and lower.

"Put your hands on me," She murmurs, between kisses. "Show me what you like."

"You. Just you."

She huffs a laugh. "Good answer."

My shoes are slip-on loafers, so I toe them off and yank my feet free of the slacks and underwear, turning sideways on the bench seat. She follows, putting her body between the V of my upraised knees. My back is to the door, which isn't exactly comfortable, but I don't fuckin' give a shit.

Terra is touching me. Kissing my belly, my navel, my hipbone. My thigh. Hands on my thighs, rubbing up my belly to my chest, clawing downward—slowly, sensually.

She glances up at me, making sure I'm watching. Smiles at me. Eager, aroused, wild—pink tongue running over white teeth, sliding over her lips in anticipation. She nuzzles her cheek against my belly, tongue flicking out to dart a sly little lick of my tip. She hums as if the taste is delicious.

And then, without warning, she takes my cock in her mouth. She moans, a sound of pure delight, lips at my glans, tongue swirling around the leaking tip. I have to hold back, abs tensing—I'm not ready for it to be over. But fuck—the wet heat of her mouth is pure heaven. Like nothing I've ever felt.

Just because it's her, I think. Something about her.

A growl escapes my throat, ripping free unbidden. I need to touch her—she wants me to. I cup the back of her neck gently, and then slide my fingers into her hair, over her scalp, feeling the curve of her skull, the cool silk of her hair. I touch her ears, tracing the delicate curve of them. Her temples. I bury both hands in her hair, then, holding it away, gather it in my fists. When did she take it out of the braid?

She cups my balls in one hand, caressing my belly and chest with the other, her lips still wrapped around my glans, tongue still swirling and tasting and flicking. Teasing. Tasting. Touching.

With a gentle fondling squeeze of my balls, she very, very slowly slides her lips down, down. Taking more and more of me, millimeter by millimeter.

"Fuck, Terra—Jesus."

Her eyes lift to mine, and I see nothing but arousal in hers. If she's not enjoying this, then she's the best actress in the world.