Page 37 of His Naughty Girl

I pretended I didn’t know what he meant. I shook my head mutely, unable to form words as his thumb brushed over my clit once more.

“This wetness,” he explained, “is nature’s way of preparing you down here.”

Another surge of moisture escaped me at his words, and I whimpered softly.

“Your pussy is getting ready,” Dylan continued, his fingers tracing the outline of my lips through the damp fabric. “It’s making itself slick and welcoming, preparing to take a man’s cock.”

I gasped at his crude language, but I couldn’t deny the way my inner muscles clenched at the thought.

“That’s what all this wetness is for, sweetheart,” he murmured. “To ease the way for a big, hard cock to slide inside you. To let a man fuck you properly.”

My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure against his teasing fingers. The ache inside me had grown almost unbearable, a desperate emptiness begging to be filled.

“Please,” I whispered, hardly recognizing my own voice.

Dylan’s eyes met mine, dark with desire. “Please what, Andrea? Tell me what you need.”

I squirmed under his intense gaze, torn between embarrassment and overwhelming arousal. “I… I don’t know,” I stammered.

“I think you do,” Dylan said firmly. “Say it, Andrea. Beg me for what you want.”

My cheeks flamed even hotter, but the need coursing through my body overrode my shame. “Please,” I whimpered. “Take them off. My panties… please take them off.”

A slow smile spread across Dylan’s face. “Good girl,” he praised. “Ask me properly now.”

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Please, sir,” I begged. “Please take off my panties.”

Without breaking eye contact, Dylan hooked his fingers under the waistband of my training panties. Slowly, torturously, he peeled the damp fabric away from my overheated skin. I lifted my hips and closed my knees to help him, shivering as the cool air hit my naked pussy.

Dylan tossed the soaked panties aside, his gaze dropping to take in my newly bared flesh. I watched his face intently, my heart pounding as his eyes roamed over my most intimate parts.

“Spread your legs again. Even wider,” he commanded softly. “Pull those knees back more. Show me everything.”

I whimpered softly as I complied with my suitor’s lewd instruction, spreading my legs as far as I could and pulling my knees all the way back toward my chest. To my distress I could even see them myself in this posture, my shaven pussy and anus, on display for Dylan’s hungry, ultra-masculine gaze. I felt my face flame with embarrassment even as I sensed myself melting down below at the obscene submission he had decreed.

I watched Dylan’s eyes roam over me, drinking in every detail. My heart pounded as I saw the desire burning in his hazel irises. His gaze lingered on my glistening folds, then dropped lower to where my bottom’s tiny, puckered hole was fully visible.

“So beautiful,” Dylan murmured, his voice husky with want. “Your pretty little pussy is absolutely perfect, Andrea. And look at this adorable little asshole, all pink and tight.”

I gasped as Dylan ran a finger lightly over my exposed anus, the feather-light touch sending shivers up my spine. My pussy clenched involuntarily, aching to be filled.

“You like that, don’t you?” Dylan asked, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “Your body is so responsive, sweetheart. I can see how badly you need it.”

My eyes widened as I saw Dylan’s free hand move to the front of his pants, palming the obvious bulge there. “You’ve got me so hard, Andrea,” he growled. “I need to taste that sweet pussy of yours.”

I watched, wide-eyed, as Dylan unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. He reached into his pants and pulled out his cock, thick and rigid with arousal. My mouth went dry at the sight of it, so much larger than Ethan’s had been.

Dylan wrapped his hand around his shaft, stroking slowly as he continued to drink in the sight of my bared pussy. “I’m going to stroke my cock while I eat you out,” he told me, his voice low and commanding. “I want you to watch me pleasure myself as I taste every inch of this delicious cunt.”

Before I could respond, Dylan lowered his head between my spread thighs. His eyes locked onto mine, intense and full of promise. “Keep your eyes open,” he ordered softly. “I want to see your face while I’m making you come.”

I nodded mutely, unable to look away as Dylan’s tongue darted out to trace along my slit. The first touch of his warm, wet tongue against my sensitive flesh made me cry out in pleasure. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more contact.

Dylan’s free hand came to rest on my lower belly, holding me in place as he began to explore my pussy in earnest. His tongue swirled around my clit, then dipped lower to tease at the virgin entrance to my aching sheath. All the while, his other handworked his cock, stroking in time with the movements of his mouth.

Dylan’s tongue delved deeper, parting my folds and exploring every inch of my pussy. I couldn’t hold back the cries of pleasure that escaped my lips as he skillfully worked me over. To my horror, the thought that Lila and Lydia—and, much worse, Greta and Devin—must surely be listening to my submission only made my pussy clench under my suitor’s probing tongue. His mouth seemed relentless, alternating between long, slow licks along my slit and quick flicks against my swollen clit.

“Oh, god,” I moaned, my back arching off the bed. “Dylan, sir… please… I… I… I can’t!”

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