Page 258 of Vicious Saint
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
I surge again. “This time with my name.”
“I’m yours, Saint Lavell.”
My balls turn to solid rock as I deliver my final strokes, and the need to crush my lips to Hendrix’s is magnetic.
“Give me all you got, Letterman,” she mutters into our tight kiss. “Show me how bad you wanna be mine too.”
I thrust a final time, then still as the pressure in my groin erupts in thick, almost painful spurts. “Fuuuckkkkkkk,” I groan, pressing my forehead to Hendrix’s as my cum spills inside her pussy.
We stay this way as we ride the wave together.
“I can feel your cock twitching inside me,” Hendrix says when our breaths even out. “Have I ever told you how hot that is?”
“You haven’t…” I respond with a tired chuckle. “But by all means keep hyping up my Royal Cock.”
After a dramatic eye roll, Hendrix attempts to wiggle free, but I ring my arms around her waist. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not ready to be outside of you yet.”
“To get my underwear…”
Nudging my face into her neck, I mumble, “Thirty more minutes.”
“Saint.” She slaps the back of my head playfully. “We have to go.”
The girl’s obviously right, since I can hear the sounds of radio chatter in the distance, telling me we’re minutes away from a lot of company.
“Fuck, fine.” I pull my cock out of Hendrix and step back to help steady her on her feet.
“Tissues?” she asks in a hurry.
“Inside pocket.”
Stealing a couple from the pack, I get my shit sorted and spend the rest of the time on the lookout as Hendrix cleans herself up.
“Such bullshit.” She huffs, tossing the empty bag of tissues at me. “Everything is made easier for you guys.”
“How the heck is that my fault?”
“A little Boyfriend 101.” She taps my cheek with her hand. “Everything moving forward is gonna end up your fault.Especiallywhen I’m on my period.”
“Nowthatis such bullshit.” I draw Hendrix closer by the small of her back, kiss her, then dip her backwards fast.
“Oh my God!” She squeals and snorts a hideous laugh I’ve never heard before.
“Okay…I think I found it.”
“Found what?”
“The first ugly thing about you.”
One would think being told you have a terrible laugh would deter you from repeating it. But nope. Not my little Jimi Hendrix. She’s gone into a full-fledged snort fest.
“You’re a fucking mess.” I shake my head and straighten her. “Now let’s get outta here before animal control comes lookin’ for us too.”
“Tell me what the fuck happened,” my father snaps with folded arms over his night robe.
