Page 10 of Ink

He lifts off the shirt, rubbing his rough hands all over me before licking his way across the marks he’s just made.

I’m not scared. I know he’d never hurt me, not for real.

He inhales, dragging in the scent of my skin as though he can’t take anymore, then drops to his knees and devours my pussy like he’s been thinking about it for years. His tongue is buried deep, and he works his way over me, humming and moaning, flicking his tongue, hungry for me like a depraved animal that’s been caged too long.

His hands wrap around my waist, and he digs into me, eating, licking, sucking. My thighs shake and my core tightens as I weave my fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands.

He pulls away and stands before me. “Get up on the counter and touch yourself.” His tone is a low growl.

“What?” I’m breathless, panting, desperate.

He lifts me up as though I’m weightless, like he had earlier. “Touch yourself. I want to watch you.”

I’m all for trying new things, but masturbating seems like a private event. Something you do alone, not for an audience, and especially not with this big belly hanging over. I mean, what would he even see? I’m blocking his view.

“Lean back.” He nods toward a wall behind me. If I like being told what to do, I should listen, but I’m not used to it, and I’m not even sure I like it yet.

That’s a lie. I love it!

That said, I do as I’m told and lean back against the wall.

“Good girl. Now touch yourself. Rub that swollen clit like you were in the hallway when I was jerking off to pictures of you.”

I want to ask him where he got the photo, but now doesn’t seem like the time. Besides, I’m not sure it matters anymore. I’m masturbating on the man’s kitchen counter.

My finger glides over my swollen pussy and I rub slowly, holding my breast in one hand as I work.

Ink leans back in the chair opposite me and pulls out his cock. He’s huge. Like really, really huge. The angle I was watching from earlier didn’t allow me this pleasure.

He strokes over and over again as he watches me.

“You need to be fucked, little bunny?” His tone is low, and I just about die.

I squeak out a response that’s supposed to be a yes, but I’m not sure if it’s computing. I’m on the edge. I need to come.

“Fuck me,” I whine. “Fuck me hard. Please! I need it so bad!”

He growls deeply in his throat. “You want me to bend that pretty little ass over and fuck you hard, Bunny? Then what? You gonna lick your come off me?”

I twist faster circles around my clit, then pull off quickly. I’m so close to coming. I need it.

Ink jerks his hand faster and stares toward me, studying my movements like this is a private show, like I’m here for his amusement. I’m not sure why, but I love it. I’d do anything he asked right now. I love it so much that I want more. I need more!

“Get yourself to the edge, little bunny. Scream it loud. Whine for me.”

I don’t have to try. I’m already panting and whining, desperate for release.

“I’m so close, Ink. Fuck me! Please!”

He stares toward me. How is this huge, gorgeous man looking at me? How does this work? What does he see in me?

I rub faster, desperate for release when a heavy thud hits the window in the living room.

Ink stands and tucks himself back into his jeans. “Come on down, Bunny. Let’s get you back to bed.”

I tilt my head to the side. I heard the noise too, but I can’t figure why it’s stopping us. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re resting and I’m taking care of things.”

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