Page 93 of Hale Yes
“I would normally finger-fuck you and stretch you out for me, but…” He cocks his head to the side. “I think I’ll make you take me without any warm-up.”
I glance down to see the front of his underwear pulled down and his cock in his hand. If a penis had emotions, his would be furious. Helix was big last time we were together, but the head looks swollen to twice its normal size right now. Every cell of his blood seems to be pooled in that magnificent organ, turning it a deep shade of red, and the engorged veins running along the underside only add to the impression that his dick is quite angry with me.
Bring it on.
“If that’s what you think you need to do,” I say coyly, and he bites his bottom lip to fight the smile I can see threatening to take over.
Helix reaches for the box of condoms in the drawer and immediately checks the bottom, no doubt looking at the expiration date. He glances up, catching me watching, and givesme a chagrined half-smile. “Sorry, it’s something my dad taught us when he hadthe talk.”
I’m pretty sure Haywood Hale most likely had an addendum to that lesson, one that all fathers of rich young men should teach. “It’s a brand new box,” I tell him quickly. “You can check the seal.”
He frowns when he realizes why I brought it up. “You don’t have to say that, Nicolette. I trust you.” Helix’s lower jaw drops a few millimeters, and his eyes seem to defocus as he repeats his declaration. “I trust you.” Somehow, I get the feeling the second time he said it wasn’t for me.
Opening the box, he pulls out three foil packets before replacing the box in the drawer.
“Awfully ambitious, aren’t we?” I tease, and he gives me an imperious eyebrow.
“You insulted my rebound time last time, Dr. Bell, and I feel I have something to prove.”
I grin, happy I goaded him because now he’s going to take it out on me in the very best way. Once he’s sheathed, Helix kneels between my legs and drags the head of his erection up and down my slit a few times, bumping it against my clit.
“Fill me. Please,” I beg because I know he loves it.
Sure enough, he groans deep and low as he slides the head inside me, the crown doing its designed job to open me up. “Hell yes, baby. Beg for this cock. Give me all the thoughts in that beautiful, filthy mind of yours.”
“I want you to use that thick cock of yours to stretch my cunt open wide. Get yourself off with my body, Helix.”
His jaw clenches, and he pushes in another couple inches. It’s pleasure laced with pain becausemother of science, he’s big.
“Like this, my pretty queen? This how you want your pussy used?”
I strain against my bindings, my back arching off the mattress as my sex attempts to accommodate his intrusion. “Yes, like that. I want to squeeze every bit of cum from your dick until you’re so weak you can’t even stand up.”
“Fuuuuck,” he growls. “You’re better at this than me.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but the compliment was like champagne bubbles in my mind, leaving me feeling high and uninhibited.
“I can take it,” I say. “Give me all of you.”
Helix leans forward and kisses me, his dick inching in a bit more with the movement. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he murmurs quietly against my lips. Before I can process that comment, he plunges his tongue into my mouth and distracts me. The man is a damn good kisser, his pacing and rhythm unmatched, at least in my experience.
I’ve dealt with all the bad kissers in my life. I even have special names for them. The snake, who rapidly flickers his tongue in and out. The goalie, who rams his tongue down your throat to play tonsil hockey. The slug, whose tongue just sits in your mouth and expects you to do all the work. Then there’s saliva waterfall guy; I think that one’s pretty self-explanatory.
But Helix Hale is none of those guys. He understands the assignment and kisses a woman properly. To me, a kiss is like a dance between two people. Sometimes the motion is back and forth; sometimes it’s circular; at other times it’s frenzied. But it’s always dependent on both participants.
Right now, our tongues are waltzing in slow, rhythmic circles. They wrap and twist like two lovers who only exist for each other, the rest of the world be damned. My body opens fully for him, and we both make noises of approval as his cock sinks deep.
“You’re like warm butter,” he tells me, ending the immersive kiss to pepper little pecks along my jawline. “Melting for me.”
He nuzzles my ear before rising back up above me and sliding his hands up my thighs. His fingers dance in the wide holes of the fishnet and ignite my skin. Then he reaches beneath me and grabs my bare ass, hoisting me easily until my lower back is off the bed.
I look up at him from where I’m trussed on my bed. He’s a beautiful specimen of man, his shoulders and chest seemingly taking up all the space in the room. His torso tapers at the waist, giving way to a rock-hard eight-pack that’s currently quivering with the obvious effort of holding back. He has a little body hair, but it’s well-maintained and not even close to bushman levels.
And the arms? They are the kinds of arms women dream about having around them. Thick, strong biceps and muscular forearms with veins that bulge when he flexes. Not to mention the sexy ink that means “Pursuit of happiness.”
Our eyes meet, and I can read the desire in his dark pupils. “You’re a very bad girl, Nicolette, but you’re about to take me like a good fucking girl.”
“Make me,” I challenge, and his resulting smile is nothing less than triumphant. I asked for it, and he’s about to deliver.
