Page 31 of Hyde

Reaching under her knees, I suddenly lift them and she lets out a squeal as she finds herself on her back with my mouth over her pussy. Sticking my tongue right up into her core, I savor the taste of her, lapping at her as she settles her legs over my shoulders.

Spreading her lips apart, I take my time exploring her and after gently securing her clit in between my teeth, I tease that nub as I slowly slip my finger inside of her pussy.

Christ, she’s tight,I think and my dick starts to pulse in rhythm with the light thrusting of my digit. As her body starts to tremble, with her orgasm nearing, I slide a second finger in her, gently scissoring them to make space for my cock.

Reaching my hand down, I squeeze my dick, willing him to wait his turn as I take care of my woman. Looking up at her body just as she reaches her climax, I pull my fingers out of her to lick up her finish. Not that I’m close to done with her.

I shift my mouth back up to her clit and her body tenses; a moan escapes her when I lick her again, over and over until her nearly limp body responds. Leslee braces her foot on my shoulder and her hips start to roll with the harsh rhythm I’m setting, licking her harder and faster even when her moans sound like pleas.

When I feel her pelvis spasming for the second time in a handful of minutes, I stand up, fitting my dick against her slick entrance, and thrust into her. With her gasp of pain, I lean one of my knees down on the bed beside her, keeping one of her legs over my shoulder—I stretch her wide open while I keep my gaze on her, waiting for permission to continue.

“Don’t fight me, baby.” My voice is rough with the strain of keeping still as her muscles clamp around my cock. “Your pussy is going to drain me before I can make you come again.”

“I’m okay,” she whispers, opening her eyes before nodding her head, more to herself than to me.

I shift, not pulling back more than an inch or two, thrusting back into her as a test. A huff of air escapes her lips before she reaches up to pull my head down to hers.

“More,” she says, our mouths nearly touching. “I need more.”

“So do I, baby. So do I,” I reply, pleased at the desire I see in her eyes. This time, as I’m thrusting back into her, she lifts her hips to meet mine. Awkward at first, she slowly picks up a rhythm. One that belongs just to us.

Her orgasm brings mine on. I wrap my hand around her neck, my eyes boring into hers as my release fills the barrier between our bodies.

Moving her up, fully onto the bed, I leave her long enough to dispose of the condom and bring a cloth to clean her pussy.

“Come here,” I say, grinning at her when we momentarily play tug-of-war with the sheet.

Kicking it down to the end of the bed, I pull her up against my body and toss one of my legs over her hip.

I kiss the pink that flares on her cheek and trail my fingers over her body, memorizing her.

“You gonna be shy with me after all that?” I ask her.

“Joe, I…” she starts to say, stopping to give me a self-deprecating smile instead. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I’ve never come so hard in my life,” I try to reassure her, but I’ve never been that good expressing my feelings. “Are you sore? Was I too rough with you?”

“I think I might like it rough,” Leslee admits, her voice muffled against my shoulder where her lips have been moving over my collarbone.

Her words go straight to my dick, getting a giggle from my girl when he prods her thigh.

“But I am a little sore right now,” she confesses, grinning up at me.

“Sleep for a bit,” I tell her, keeping her safe in the circle of my arms.

One thing’s for certain, I may be going to hell for making her mine, but I’m going to enjoy every second I get with her. And if, by some chance Gunner lets me live, I swear to myself she’ll never regret it.

*

“Please, Joe, I need your cock,” she begs me and I wonder if she has any idea how she’s wrecked me these past eighteen hours.

My dick feels like it’s been through a wringer, but he never hesitates to stand tall once our lips meet.

Or when she scoots her ass back against me when I’m letting her sleep.

Or when we’re lying facing each other, an arm’s length apart, sharing our stories or memories.

“It’s the last condom,” I warn her, shaking the box in the hope that more will materialize.

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