Page 29 of Wrong Pucking Move

He began to slide in again, inch by inch, so big that my sensitive skin began to pulsate with how he filled me.

Sounds began to spill from my lips, little cries of need.

Fuck,I had to admit to myself I had missed him, disgusting betrayer that he was. Missed his teasing, missed his warmth, missed the way his cock was so thick my inner walls throbbed as he pressed all the way in until he was fully sheathed.

Then he began to roll his hips, in that low, sensual way I remembered, building heat in a slow rolling boil until sweat was dripping down my throat and back. Then he put a finger on my slippery clit and began to rub, dragging me to the precipice and back again until my legs were weak and trembling from the delicious, wicked edging.

“I could do this all night,” Jesse growled as he nipped at my throat, my breasts, the rosy pink tips of my breasts.

My stomach tightened and I gripped his broad shoulders as I came, hurtling over the edge with a cry, and Jesse saidI love youover and over again, rumbling into my belly so I felt him in my chest cavity.

I didn’t say it back, but when he bent down to kiss me again I opened my sore and throbbing lips for his and the pleasure of his tongue.

Chapter Nine

The next day the long-anticipated storm came.

It was so cold there was no question of letting Jesse stay outside, and when he came back from practice I immediately opened the door to him.

“Where’s the dessert?” Mike asked. “You are not going to be forgiven without apology kolaczki.”

“Those are for Josie,” Jesse said. “She’s the first one who has to forgive me.”

He disappeared into the bathroom to change as Mom charged around the corner.

“The side door is open!” she cried, wringing her hands in distress. “And I can’t find Watson anywhere! I know he’s gone out in the storm!”

Oh, goddamn Watson!I thought in despair.

Mom yanked at the front door and called as loud as she could:

“Watson!Watson!”

It was a wall of howling white blizzard out there, and the angry wind tore at the door, flinging it open so hard it smashed against the entryway wall.

“Close it!” I cried as the tiny ice pellets pelted my cheeks with hard, sharp slashes.

Dad, Mike, and I struggled with the door as Mom called again for Watson, her voice fading and cracking in the howl of the blizzard.

Then Jesse was there, gently moving her aside and putting his big body against the door, forcing it shut.

I gasped, my cheeks still stinging with the wind.

“I’ve never seen it this bad,” I panted.

Mom began to cry, and Dad looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

Even Mike wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Dumb dog,” my brother said. “Why’d he have to go do a thing like that?”

Jesse flipped his hood up and reached for his sneakers.

“He can’t have gone far. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Stop!” I yelped. “It’s way too dangerous to go out there, Jesse. It’s a whiteout blizzard! You won’t be able to see a foot in front of your face.”

Jesse grinned down at me. “Ach! I’ve seen worse.”