Page 73 of All for her Forgiveness

Kennedy's softness against my strength.

Her moans against my growls.

Her delicacy against my solidity.

"You are mine," I vow as I slide my mouth down her neck and my hand moves under her silk nightgown and robe. She doesn't protest against my arrogance or tell me to stop, and my hungry fingers search for the heat between her thighs. "Soaking wet," I groan when I feel the fabric of her panties.

At the first brush of my finger against the lips of her pussy over the barrier of her lingerie, she bites me hard, wounding my lip already cut from fights. The sweet taste of my blood flows between our mouths, and she notices.

"I’ve hurt you."

"Don't stop. Bite me again. I want to feel your passion when I make you come."

"We can't."

"I won't fuck you here, love. When that happens, it will be in my bed with you naked, but I need to hear you come. Your moans have haunted my dreams for three years."

I sense that she still doesn't know whether to push me away or pull me closer, but when I move the elastic of her panties aside and insert a finger between her labia, her bite, the way she tries to ride my hand, says her body has already decided for her.

"Delicious. Bite harder, my delight."

I don't know how long it will last; what I'm sure of is that she is in a trance of the purest lust, and I intend to enjoy every second.

I never claimed to play fair.

Touching Kennedy is like welcoming a tsunami, and I know it's mutual. Control is broken; desire emerges violently through desperate kisses.

With one hand, I hold her face in place, gripping her neck, while I devour her mouth. With the other, I enter the hot flesh of her pussy. The deeper the kiss, the more she moans for me, and when I touch her clit, whipping the sensitive flesh with my thumb while my middle finger invades her, she pulls my hair without worrying about the force she uses. Her lack of control acts like a drug in my system.

The intensity of her desire drives me crazy.

I massage her clit and add another finger inside her. I intensify the movements, and one of her hands releases my hair and grabs my neck.

"Oh!" She tightens around my finger, and I know she is close to coming.

"Soak my hand, woman. Surrender to me."

A protest escapes her, but the more I fuck her with my fingers, the more she tries to ride them.

I release her neck and push the robe away, baring her nipple. I pinch it with my fingers without stopping kissing her. I thrust faster and faster, penetrating her with the same eagerness my cock desires.

The moans increase, and although I know she might not be ready to go all the way, if we continue like this, we will end up waking Ernest.

"Give me that mouth, Kennedy. Moan inside mine, because no one else has the right to hear you come."

She doesn't protest—she kisses me, her tongue teasing me. All sweaty, naughty, having surrendered herself to me. And when her orgasm comes, the spasms around my fingers almost take me with her. Seeing her surrender to her own pleasure has become a tattoo on my brain. I will never forget every detail of what we’ve experienced together.

Feeling her body trembling, her moans, her pleas for more, is driving me crazy. I should stop, but I can't yet. "I need to taste you."

She doesn't even protest.

I kneel and lift the nightgown to her waist. I pull one of her thighs onto my shoulders and, tearing her panties, lick her pleasure until there isn't a drop left on her lips or thighs.

I can't let her go yet, and only when I'm ready to start all over again do I hear something that makes me freeze.

"Mama!"

King’s woken up.

---