Page 53 of Desperate Actions

Her voice is so fucking wrecked, so small and unsure.

But I see her hand moving before she even realizes she’s obeying me.

She stops at her tits, palming them, squeezing the soft flesh, and fuck, that’s too good to ignore.

I lean down, drag my tongue over her peaked, sensitive nipple, sucking it into my mouth before releasing it with a sharp, wet pop.

She shudders beneath me.

And I watch—hungry, hypnotized—as she finally slides her tiny hand over her tight little nubbin.

“I—I can’t,” she whispers.

“You can.” I insist, grinding into her slow, deep, pushing us both toward the inevitable.

I trail my fingers down her trembling body, over her hips, her stomach, the insides of her thighs.

I feel her.

All of her.

Pink and soft and mine.

“Look at how beautiful you are, Pixie.”

She gasps.

Her sheath tightens, gripping my cock like a vise, milking me for more.

Holy fuck.

I drop my forehead to hers, breathing hard, barely hanging on.

“Rub that little clit. Make yourself come all over my dick.”

She shakes her head, but her fingers move faster.

Because she knows.

She knows she can’t stop now.

She knows she wants this as bad as I do.

I feel her body start to quake, feel her walls flutter around me, and I know she’s close.

So I angle my hips, rock into her deep, grind against that hidden rough patch inside her, and that’s when, she explodes.

“Sammy!”

She cries out my name, and I love it. Her body arches. Her eyes roll back as she tips into another orgasm.

And fuck, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She’s too beautiful.

Too fucking perfect.

I hold her tighter, fuck her harder, push her deeper into the mattress.

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