“Call me…yours.” She sank to her knees and took him in her mouth and Bull had to grasp the wall behind him, staggering a step back to lean against it. Isabella moved with him, never breaking contact. She held him in her hand, pumping the shaft up and down as she kissed, sucked, and worshiped the head of his cock.
“Fuck, I won’t survive,” he sighed the words, his hand resting on her head. A few weeks ago, he longed for someone to want him and now his every wish had come true. What had he done to deserve this?
He couldn’t think of one damn thing.
Isabella reveled in her chance to touch him. She trailed her fingers up and down his legs, played with his sac, then grasped his butt cheeks as she took him deep. After craving him so long, she couldn’t get enough. She lavished his cock with sucks and kisses, deep-throating him until he cried out, jetting hot spurts of cum down her throat.
Bull didn’t think he could move. “You slay me,” he muttered. “You’ve got me twisted up in knots. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”
Taking him by the hand, she led Bull back to sit on his bed. She opened drawers until she found the right one, taking out a pair of briefs and handing them to him. “I’m real.”
“Are you?” He pulled on his underwear, then the rest of his clothes. “Get dressed, beauty, we need to talk.”