Page 64 of Playboy Pitcher
“Pull your dress up.” Without argument, she bunches the hem of her red plaid skirt in one hand and holds it at her stomach. “Watch us,” I instruct. “Watch me own you, Willow. Watch this cock ruin that pretty pussy.” When she looks down to where we’re joined, I add, “Touch yourself.”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“You want to let go? Then rub your clit and ride me.”
At first, I think I’ve taken it too far, but slowly she slides a hand off my shoulder and timidly touches her clit. “Oh…”
“Fuck, just watching you is going to make me come,” I say, encouraging her. It works. She rubs faster, moaning as she bounces on my cock, a primal grunt tearing from my chest with each upward thrust of my hips.
I don’t know what madness feels like, but this has to ride the fringe of it. I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality as I watch Willow rub furious circles around her clit while my dick disappears inside her.
I can feel it building. The pressure. The intensity. The fuckingwantI’ve tried to ignore for days.
“Ben,” she gasps, her mouth rounding as her nails dig into my back. “I’m coming!”
“Do it,” I groan, sweat rolling down my temples. “Let go.”
She does. Willow comes in a spectacular explosion of screams and curses. As her body convulses, she flops forward.Oh, no, Puddles. Not yet.Grabbing her by the throat, I hold her upright, driving like a madman through her orgasm. Just as it starts to fade, my violent thrusts draw a second scream from her throat.
A scream that tightens my balls and triggers my release.
Everything explodes, and my vision goes dark. As my body stiffens, I sink my teeth into her shoulder, roaring out her name as I come.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
I always told myself Willow McBaine’s pussy would be the death of me. If I didn’t feel her ragged breath against my cheek, I’d wonder if it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I knew it’d be good.
Most likely addictive.
I had no fucking clue it’d change everything.
I’m trying to figure out what to say. Trying to find the right words so I don’t mess this up. In any other situation, those words would be, “That was fun, now get out.” But this is Willow.MyWest Palm Willow. There are so many words running through my head, I can’t pin down enough to string together a sentence.
Which doesn’t matter in the end.
She does it for me.
Willow lifts off me, wincing as my cock slides out of her. With a quick glance out the side window, she pulls the top of her dress back up and rolls over the center console, collapsing into the passenger’s seat. All I can do is stare. If it wasn’t for her wild hair and destroyed panties, you’d never know she just got fucked within an inch of her life.
As she reaches for her seatbelt, I remove the condom and tie it off. Tucking my dick back in my pants, I button my jeans and run a frustrated hand through my hair.
“Willow—”
I’m cut off by thebing-bongsound of a text chime alert. Retrieving her backpack from the floorboard, she pulls out her phone and studies the screen, a sudden frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, the muscles in her neck tightening. “Just…” Shaking her head, she sighs and drops her phone back into her backpack. “Just my boss from New York checking in.”
I glance at the dashboard. It’s almost midnight. “This late?”
Finally turning to look at me, she flashes a superior smirk that pisses me off. “Tattoo parlors don’t keep CEO hours, Ben.”
