Page 33 of Texting My Secret Santa

“Fuck,” she moans. “Asher … oh … oh …”

“You’re irresistible.”

I kiss down her neck, then suck on her nipples, never taking my hand from her horny, hot pussy. I rub faster, obsessed with the sound of her folds, the wetness of her desire. She bucks against me, moaning as I greedily and hungrily suck her nipples, biting softly onto the swells of her breasts.

When I slide my finger into her, her moans take on a distinct quality. They become urgent. It’s like, if she doesn’t come, something terrible will happen. It’s like my entire purpose becomes bringing her to the shivering edge.

Her tightness grips my finger as I slide deeper, her soaked heat beckoning me, begging me.

She pushes her face against my chest when the orgasm grips her. She doesn’t want anybody to hear her cries as they flurry like a snowstorm from her lips. She bites my chest, not caring about my sweatiness, as I pump my hand faster.

When it’s over, and I’ve wrung every last drop of pleasure from her, I can’t think of anything else—just her body and the desire she’s sparked through every inch of me.

I grab my shorts and pull them down. My thickness springs free; a dollop of precome clings to my tip. She stares down at my cock with her startled, beautiful eyes.

“Asher,” she whispers.

“I need you,” I groan. “I need to feel you around my cock. I need to fill your tight hole. I need to fuckingownyou.”

Own her? What am I even saying?

It’s the snow globe effect again.

Everything makes sense when we’re trapped in a moment, no matter how crazy.

She reaches for my cock, hesitating. She wraps her hand around my base.

“We can’t have sex,” she says as she strokes me.

Pleasure erupts in me. Her hand is soft and wet, making me think I might explode before I even slide into her pussy.

“We can,” I growl. “You’re ready for it. I felt how wet you are. I’ll go slow at first, stretch your perfect pussy with my cock. Then I’ll bend you over and get a greedy look at your perfect ass as I push inside …”

“Not sex,” she says frantically, rubbing me faster, her tits jiggling hypnotically with each brush of her hand.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” I say roughly, smoothing my hand over my swollen rod and her eager, needy nub. She trembles, responding immediately.

“I’m a virgin, Asher,” she whimpers. “Just … let me do this, okay? Let me make you …”

A virgin? My head swims. The revelation should make me stop. Somehow, it makes me want her more.

I push her tits together, sucking her nipples again, kissing her wet skin as she pumps her hand quicker, harder, squeezing my shaft. Release rushes up my rod.

I can’t stop it anymore.

“Fuck,” I moan into her perfectly plump breasts. “Fuck, fuck, fu …”

My dick shudders as come erupts out of me, a hot stream of release spattering against her stomach.

I take a step back, my head beginning to clear. I’ve only got a few moments before my lust takes over again. My release glimmers on her stomach. She’s red all over from my kissing and touching.

“You should go,” she whispers.

“I know.”

I grab her hips and pull her close. When we kiss, she clings to the back of my neck like she never wants to release me. Then she digs her nails into my chest.

“Seriously,” she says. “You have to go. We have to be better than this.”

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