Page 15 of Wicked Love
She spread her legs wider, and I pulled back, and squeezed her hands as I thrust forward into her again. I could feel her wetness as she clenched around me. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt.
No one had ever felt the way that Melasina did right now, with my cock buried in her. No one had ever made me feel the way I did with my face between her legs, watching her lose herself because of me.
In and out, in and out, I thrust hard and deep each time, wanting all of her. She didn’t look away, her mouth falling open.
“Next time, my cock goes in that mouth,” I murmured.
An answering wetness in her pussy told me that she liked that, a promise of what was to come.
I felt myself getting closer, and I thrust harder, and faster, unable to keep the slow tempo I’d started with. I wanted all of her, and I couldn’t stop myself.
My hands gripped hers as I pounded into her.
Melasina’s legs curled around me, her heels hitting my ass. Her head rolled to the side, and for the first time, she closed her eyes, looking away from me.
From us.
“Look at me,” I said, in a voice I nearly didn’t recognize as my own.
Slowly, she turned her head back to me and opened her eyes.
It nearly killed me, but I slowed down, and kissed her. Then I moved in and out, slowly, slowly, and with a shout, I emptied myself into her.
Melasina cried out, and her pussy clenched around me once more.
I leaned down, my forehead to hers, both of us breathing heavily. I couldn’t move.
“Wow,” Melasina said. She was smiling. “That wasn’t what I expected when I opened the door.”
“That’s because you wanted to throw me out again,” I grinned.
“Partly. And partly because I wanted you right where you are.”
“I’m glad that side won out,” I said.
“Me, too,” Melasina said.
I carefully lifted myself off her. “Bathroom?” I asked.
“Through the kitchen,” Melasina pointed toward the back of the house.
She was beautiful, lying on the bed naked, her skin pink and warm, mixed with cream, her hair a mess. She looked like a woman who’d just had great sex.
Which she had.
With me.
I was grinning as I walked through the kitchen. Her house was a Creole cottage, and the bathroom was off the kitchen at the back of the house. I cleaned up, and headed back to the room.
There was dirt on her tile, and I moved to the side to avoid it with my bare feet. As I did, I stepped into another little pile, and then another. I stopped, brushing my feet off, and went back to her room.
Frowning, I bent down to brush at my feet again.
“What’s wrong?” Melasina asked. She’d slid under the blankets on the bed.
“There was dirt on the floor of the kitchen,” I said. When I looked up, her eyes were wide, and she looked… nervous. It wasn’t the look of a satisfied woman I’d seen only seconds before.
In the back of my head, a warning bell rang. Soft and faint, but it was there. And it rang. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
