Page 68 of The Enforcer

But Zoe’s fingers brush my wrist. I look up.

She takes a shallow intake of air. “I don’t want kids either. That’s why my last relationship ended.”

I don’t know why she’s telling me this, but I can see that she feels better admitting it to me. I don’t care about children. I don’t care about her last relationship. I care about her pussy, and if she smiles or is tired or sore. I care about her fingers ripping the condom open.

“Mio Dio,” I groan. There’s not quite enough time for my mood to catch up with my brain or my cock. Zoe’s hand is faster, rolling the condom down my shaft, pulling my fingers from her cunt, using her own wetness to lubricate my dick.

But I am fully caught up on events when she grips me at the base and then lines up the head of my dick with that grasping hole. She waits for me. My hands go to her waist, and my fingers dig lightly into her skin. Still, she doesn’t move.

“Tell me what you want,” she says.

I could come at those words alone, but I won’t miss the moment to say the words that have been filling my throat for days. “Fuck me,” I yell. I don’t care who else hears.

The sound we make when we come together is music. Filthy fucking music.

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