Page 12 of Isle of Beauty

“No one I couldn’t take care of.”

“You’re a vicious little thing, aren’t you, mo cara?” He smiles at me with pride then his tongue darts out to lick the bruises another man left in hatred, replacing them with adoration.

Our lips clash again in a bruising kiss, his right hand on my jaw in a possessive hold. I moan in his mouth. I hope he leaves marks all over my body to remember him by, if only for a few days.

“I need you,” I whisper against his mouth and he takes a sharp inhale.

He lifts my hips to rid me of the dress completely, his movements hurried, hard fingers grasping my soft flesh. I’m left in nothing but my heels and black lace thong. His hands explore and caress the skin of my thighs. When his fingers reach the creases of my legs and meet the lace, he looks up at me, checking in, observing any reaction on my face.

“Lift your hips up again for me, mo cara.”

He slides the fabric down my legs and pockets them, then drops to his knees.

I’m at the perfect height for him to line up his face with my pussy and the sight makes me wetter.

His mouth leaves kisses along my inner thighs getting closer to where I need him most without reaching it and I whine. He places my heels on his shoulders. The indent they make on his skin is hot as hell.

“Lay down for me,” he orders, splayed hand on my sternum, then bites my inner thigh. Hard.

The dual sensation of pain and pleasure sends sparks directly to my clit.

There’s nothing tentative with this man, he grabs onto my thighs and drags my ass closer to the edge of the counter then licks me from entrance to clit in one lavish stroke of his tongue.

I mewl and writhe. I’ve never been eaten out like this, like I’m the air he needs to breathe, and I’m getting out of my mind.

He switches between fucking me with his tongue and giving my clit short rhythmic strokes that make me see stars.

I call out for God.

His hand shoots around my throat, bracketing but never pressing down. It’s primal, it’s degrading and I love it. I want to submit wholly to him.

“The only name I want to hear when you pray at my church is mine, mo cara. Let me hear it.”

With his other hand, he brings two fingers into me curling them until I’m only sensations and can’t help but ride his face and hand and chase my pleasure.

As I get close to the crest, Pierce removes his fingers and licks me slower again, and then stops completely, blowing air onto my clit.

I want to jump off the counter but the hold he has on my hips keeps me pinned down.

He brings his fingers to my lips. “Taste yourself, mo cara.”

My eyes roll back as I do, his soft dominance getting me off as surely as his talented tongue. His are dark pool of carnal need, trained on my mouth in awe.

Three times, he brings me to the brink of orgasm before pulling back and denying me. I’m crawling out of my skin, goosebumps permanently scattering my body now. I’m panting and call out his name again in frustration but he doesn’t let up until I leave a mess on the counter underneath me.

“What do you need, mo cara? Use your words.”

I’ve never had to work for orgasms before but I’m getting desperate, wetness dripping down my legs. I rise up on my elbows to look at him.

His lips and chin glisten in the low light. It’s the dirtiest and most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed. His eyes are intent on me, never wavering. Mine dip to his strained slacks. Seeing his hard cock pressing against the soft fabric and knowing I am the reason for it makes me bold.

“I want you to eat me out like I’m your last meal. Make me come harder than I’ve ever had.”

His smirk makes my pussy flutter in anticipation. “You forgot something, baby,” he says, spearing me again with two fingers, and I cry out.

He wants me to beg.

The sight of his fingers pumping into me and the sound of my wetness makes the scene dirtier. I fucking love it.

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