Page 10 of Carnival Master

I bite back a groan as she shifts position again, dragging those tiny shorts down her thighs. Fucking hell, I’m about to lose it.

The sounds of her gasps and whimpers fill the room as her fingers dive between her legs. Sofia throws her head back, oblivious that I’m watching her every move.

“Keep going, baby girl,” I mutter as she spreads herself open. Her pretty pink cunt is glistening from her arousal.

She’s so fucking responsive, and I haven’t even touched her yet. I stroke myself harder, loving how she loses herself in her pleasure.

You have no idea how good it would feel to have my cock inside your tight pussy.

I send, my eyes locked on the screen as her eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh, fuck,” she whimpers, and I know my words are getting to her.

Good.

I type more.

Imagine me stretching you open. Filling you up with every inch.

Her fingers move faster, her hips lifting off the bed.

You want this cock, don’t you?

I text, adding another photo of my hard cock and pressing send as I watch her.

She reads the text and looks at the photo. “Fuck, yes. I want it,” she breathes.

I smirk, knowing she wouldn’t admit it in a text or out loud if she knew I could hear.

You’re an ass.

She sends, her chest heaving.

That’s not the part of me you’re thinking about.

Her mouth falls open as her fingers plunge in and out of her glistening cunt.

“Damn, you look so fucking sexy like that. Bet that pussy feels amazing.” I growl to myself, typing another text.

I’m going to plow into you so hard. Make you feel every inch.

And that does it.

She comes with a loud moan, hips bucking off the bed. Her eyes shut as she rides out the waves of pleasure, fingers working furiously.

“Fuck,” I grunt, unable to hold back anymore. I come with a few more strokes, spilling my release onto the desk with a satisfied groan.

That was fucking intense. And we haven’t even touched each other yet. I chuckle, shaking my head.

Sitting back in my chair, I use my dirty shirt to wipeup the mess I made. My cock still twitching, sated but eager for more. Fucking hell, this woman is going to be the death of me. And I can’t wait.

6

SOFIA

Iclutch the bottle of Macallan 25 against my chest, weaving through the carnival crowd. The evening air crackles with excitement as families and couples stream toward the big top. I tell myself I’m just here to thank him properly for saving me, but my racing pulse suggests otherwise.

Finding a seat near the front, I settle in as the lights dim. The whiskey bottle’s weight in my lap reminds me of my flimsy excuse to see the ringmaster again.

---