Page 64 of The Hand that Frays

The kiss is every word I could never say to her. Every single thing I’ve always wanted to tell her but can’t. It’s demanding and hot. Soft yet firm. It’s more passionate than I’ve ever given her.

Things with Lyla have never been black and white.

She was an unexpected but welcome curve in my path, one I’ll never stop speeding around with guns blazing.

“It’s too much,” she whimpers against my lips as her kiss grows sloppy.

“More!” I growl, and it’s reminiscent of our first encounter when I couldn’t get enough of hearing the noises she made when she came.

I’m still addicted to it.

Her objections disappear as another orgasm rips through her.

I stand and remove my sweats, tossing a leg over her middle to straddle her as I jack my hand over my cock. Pre-cum glistens at the tip, and Lyla looks at it as if it’ll quench her thirst.

“Turn it off, please, turn it off!” she begs, and her pleas go unanswered as I bend my knees enough to shove my dick in her mouth.

“There, that’s better,” I tell her, holding onto either side of her face as I move in and out of her hot, tight mouth.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I mewl.

She moans around my cock, and I know the toy is working her toward another orgasm.

“There’s my dirty little slut,” I groan, and her eyes darken around the edges, flicking up to look at me as I fuck her mouth in punishing thrusts.

Her wail is incoherent as I press forward and sink into her throat.

She gags, and it animates something in my fucked-up psyche. “Yes! That a girl, gag on it.”

Each time the head of me slides a bit too far, she heeds my sick command, gagging violently around me. Each time, I feel closer to coming than I want to be.

I never want to come when I’m with her.

I want to bury myself in her for as long as humanly fucking possible.

“Look how pretty you look on my cock. Fuck, those tears,” I snarl, losing my grip on reality as I feel my body aching to fill her mouth.

Her scream around me as she comes for a third time breaks me.

I drive forward, spilling down her throat as I fist eitherside of her hair in my hands, growling through each mind-bending wave.

“Good fucking girl!”

Reaching back, I tug the vibrator out of her and toss it onto the bed, where it dances around on the surface.

Pulling out of her mouth, I hiss.

“I knew you said you were going to be good, but fuck, Lyla.” I drag my softening cock across her open lips as she tries to catch her breath.

Her tongue peeks out and teases around the head, and my eyes roll back.

“Why can’t I ever get enough of you?” I breathe, anger swelling at the thought.

Even though I know I don’t have to worry about her being an obsession.

Because she belongs to me.

She. Is. Mine.

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