Page 16 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

It’s one reason I half-starve sometimes. I have to choose meals that will leave us both satisfied and without risk.

“So good.” I’m talking about him—and about what he’s doing to me.

“It’s okay. You can let go. Let go, sweetie, I want to see you come.”

“I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me so hard,” I demand, reaching for his wrist.

There’s a hint of a laugh in his ragged voice. “Thank God—but ladies first.”

Oh, hell.

With a long, wailing cry, I let go. I feel my juices flooding across his hand, down his wrist. I’m ruining his sheets and probably making him more convinced than ever that something beyond “bio-individuality” is going on here.

I don’t care right now.

And to my shock—neither does he.

Kev stands up and yanks me to the edge of the bed. He rubs his cock in all the lubricant I’ve just made, moaning as he splashes against me, then enters me with a slick gush.

“I never... I mean... I thought squirting was only in porn,” Kev whispers, voice a bashful whisper before it breaks into a satisfied groan as my pussy massages him, greedily grabbing and sucking him in.

“It isn’t—but that wasn’t even my proper ‘squirting,’” I laugh between moans of my own.

“No?”

“That’s just how wet I get when a man is good at his job.”

“For you, I will be employee of the year, baby.”

And we giggle together. And we fuck until we’re breathless. When he comes in me, then stays on top of me, kissing me slowly, letting my grasping muscles with their millions of hungry tiny suckers coax him back to life while he’s still nestled deep inside.

MARINA IS GOING TObe my girlfriend unless she hates me or she’s psycho. (Hell, maybe even if she’s a little bit psycho.) I will do whatever it takes to get a second date, a third date, and eventually all the dates with this woman.

I’ve decided it based purely on three factors.

Her personality is incredible—sweet, witty, smart, playful, sexy, not stuck-up, easy-going—like, it’s a checklist for what you’d want in a partner.

Her looks are breathtaking—in and out of clothes.

Sex.

Sex that’s happening right now and is probably the reason why I’m not being logical about the dating thing. I know anyone can make a good first impression for a few hours, maybe even a few months.

But right now, as I’m kissing Marina on a soft cushion of cum and afterglow—her vaginal walls start to dance on me. Milking me up and down. Tiny little kisses pop along the spent surface of my cock as it stills inside of her, softening and beginning to withdraw.

But Marina’s body has other ideas.

I lock eyes with her for a minute as I feel her insides stroking me, waking me up again. “Girl. There’s a thing called a refractory period.”

“That’s fine.” Her arms slide around my neck, and she pulls me back in for another kiss.

But I break it in awe, staring her down again. “Your pussy is sucking my cock. Like giving it a full-on deep throat blow job. And I’m sorry, because I know that’s not like—thepolitestlanguage—”

“Yet accurate,” she laughs. “You’re right. I’m very greedy there. I usually like my lovers to enjoy themselves a few times.” Her accent lilts, skipping sweetly as her lips smile in pure sin. “Do you have any objection to fucking me again? Would you like to leave my sloppy, slippery little pussy and get some sleep—or can I keep sucking you inside of me until you’re hard and ready to fuck me again?”

Back to personality. We’re going to add “talks like a demon in bed,” and I am here for it. I’ve never had a woman who talked to me like that. “You surprise me.”

“I’m surprising.”

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