Page 81 of Give My Everything
“Do you have something?”
I hear her ask the question, but my eyes are too focused on everything I see in front of me, too busy drinking in the absolute magnificence of her body, all five feet eight inches of her.
Long legs, thick thighs, beautiful breasts with nipples that match her lips.
I won’t be able to get it out of my head every time I look at her mouth from now until the day I die.
I stroke my dick absentmindedly, part of me forgetting that we’re in a rush and unable to do anything but think about sucking those nipples into my mouth.
“Ben, do you have something?”
My eyes connect with hers and I snap out of the haze, reaching into the pocket of my pants that are underneath me and digging out my wallet.
I actually don’t know if I have something. I don’t have random trysts in art galleries with sexy women. That’s more Wyatt’s old style than anything I’ve ever done.
But there was one period of time when I was hoping to find someone to take home after things ended with Krissa and I kept a condom in my wallet.
I open it up and look, my shoulders falling when I realize what I pretty much already knew: empty.
Looking up at her, seeing her standing in front of me looking so beautiful and sensual and everything I’ve ever wanted, I make a decision.
A calculated risk.
“I’m clean.”
Her eyebrows rise.
“I was tested a few months ago and haven’t had sex with anyone since I found out about the baby,” she replies. Then she smiles. “I’m not on the pill, but I promise I’m as pregnant as I’m gonna get.”
I laugh, and so does she, the small bit of humor cooling the heat of the moment just enough that I don’t feel like I’m on some sort of lusty autopilot.
It allows me to really take her in as she steps forward. The desire on her face causes my heart to race as she straddles my hips, lowering her body so we’re pressed together.
Her lips return to mine, and our kiss breathes something into my chest. Something warm and cozy, like a fire on a brutally cold day at the beach.
My hands rest on her soft hips then stroke down over her naked skin, onto her thighs.
I reach one hand between her legs, slipping a finger against her core and she moans, panting out a breath that sounds just as good as it feels.
She’s slick, so wet I’m able to slide two fingers inside of her, loving the sound she makes when I pump them in and out.
Remmy presses her face against my neck and starts sucking on my skin.
“You’re so wet,” I say.
“I’m soready,” she replies, her voice a lusty whisper in my ear.
“Yeah?”
She nods and I pull my fingers out, adjusting her hips so that warm wetness is pressed against my dick, and then she groans and pulls her head back, her mouth open as she grinds on me.
Her hips move steadily, back and forth as she works against me, her lower lips a welcome respite from the years of stroking my own dick.
And then suddenly, without warning, she crooks her pelvis just slightly and I realize I’m inside of her.
I shout out but Remmy presses her open mouth against mine, our tongues resuming their earlier dance.
The pressure and heat of her pussy gripping me like this is unreal as she rotates and moves above me. The slapping sound of our bodies connecting over and over again gets louder as she rides me, her breasts bouncing in my face.
