Page 61 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

Lexie busts out laughing. “You aren’t serious.”

I pinch her side again, and she squirms, her thigh grazing my hardening cock. “Okay then, tell us yours.”

She laughs again. “Mine isn’t very creative.”

Dawson raises an eyebrow. “Spill it before we torture it out of you.”

“I said no torture, remember?”

“You might like our kind of torture,” he replies.

Her neck turns a soft pink. “You’re probably right.”

“Start talking.”

“Fine. But no making fun of me or I’ll punch you.” She chews on her lip, avoiding looking at us. “Okay, so I imagine coming home late with a guy and we’re so worked up that he pins me against the wall and peels down my jeans and everything. He makes me come with his mouth, then folds me over the couch and takes me from behind. He talks dirty to me, and fucks me slow and firm until I come.”

My cock surges to life. “With your clothes bunched around your thighs?”

“Yes.”

“Dirty talk, huh?” Dawson moves closer to her, his body inches from hers. He caresses down her arm and kisses her shoulder. “Telling you what a good girl you are?”

“Yes,” Lexie breathes.

“How tight you feel?” I add, dusting my thumb across her lips.

Lexie closes her eyes. “Yes.”

“How he can’t resist you or your soft, wet pussy?”

Lexie gives a whimper.

I eye Dawson, and roll Lexie toward him, then reach for a condom from the nightstand and roll it on. “Does he touch you while he fucks you?” I move closer so my cock slips between her warm thighs.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Lexie takes my hand to her pussy, where she’s like hot silk. I kiss the crook of her shoulder while I stroke her. She feels so good. Soft and wet and eager. Her breaths come faster, the muscles in her thighs quivering.

“What about here?” I caress her soft breast with my fingertips.

She arches her back, forcing my cock against her heat.

“We’ll go as slow as you need,” I say, and angle back.

“Yes, fuck me.”

The ache inside my chest tears open, releasing a powerful hunger. I cradle her hip and thrust inside. The stretch is delicious. I drive again, forcing myself to go slow. “So tight, baby.”

Lexie grips the sheets, her back arched in pleasure.

“That’s it, Lexie,” Dawson says. “Take him like a good girl.”

She gives a desperate cry as I slide home.

If I thought I was made of jet fuel before, I’m a lit fuse now. I drive inside, rocking my hips, pausing to caress and stroke her. Lexie quivers beneath me. I lower my lips to her shoulder, groaning as I suck on her skin.

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