Page 54 of The Enforcer

I grab onto his head to stay upright. I don’t know if that’s a good idea, but I do it, and we both moan out loud. I pull him closer, but he doesn’t open his mouth for me; he doesn’t even beg. He simply keeps getting himself off below me, and I love that shit.

But I test the bounds of his patience when I start to leak onto his lap. The string of curse words he hisses at me only makes matters worse, but since he doesn’t tell me to stop, and I don’t tell him to shut up, I just assume we’ve reached a nonverbal agreement. Besides, I’m already so damn close that who even cares about etiquette anymore?

“Gimme your hand,” I moan.

He looks bewildered for a second, bless, so I grab his hand from his chest and place it underneath my pussy. This command is mostly for the theatrics since my aim has always been a bit shit, but good sex deserves a little razzle-dazzle if you ask me.

I wrap my hand around the back of Alfonso’s head again, and I start to fuck myself with my fingers with all the energy I’ve got left. I’m moaning and pressing my hips forward. Alfonso is grunting like a beast and jutting his hips up toward my pussy. I don’t always squirt, but when I do, it’s worth it for me and anyone lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that wet blessing. I appreciate that Alfonso understands that without any prompting.

He’s stroking his shaft, shifting his body so I can leak onto his lap and lubricate his dick. He moves his other hand to try and catch the wild spray of my orgasm, and then he pours the bit of fluid he’s collected down his throat before rubbing his wet hand over his chest. As if he’s marking himself with my scent.

I’m not normally a multiple orgasm type of woman, but there’s a first time for everything, and I lose control of myself with that second release.

My fingers dig into the nape of his neck, and then Alfonso’s grunting and groaning, he bends forward, and his face rests on my right breast. I can see his palm strangling the head of his dick.

And then he groans against my breast as his fist pulls thick white globs of come from the head. It spills over his hand and seeps through his fingers, lubricating the palm still gliding over his shaft.

“Fuck,” I breathe.

“Si, si.”

I run my fingers through his hair before I place both hands on his shoulders. His skin is covered in sweat. We both know my hand is wet with my release. He groans when I touch him. I stand on shaky legs and hold on until I feel strong enough to walk toward the door.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower. Bathroom’s all yours.”

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