Page 92 of The Wildest One
It made me painfully hard.
One of the images I couldn’t get out of my head was when I had been in her office a few days ago and I was teasing her with my words, knowing every one I spoke was working her up even more.
When I begged to touch her pussy and she acted as though she didn’t want it.
When we both knew she did.
She probably didn’t even realize that her jacket had fallen open, the shirt underneath that was tight against her bodyshowing her nipples—and they were as hard as my dick was right now.
She wanted me to lick them.
She wanted me to bite them.
She wanted me to pull them with my teeth.
And while my mouth was on her body, she wanted me to touch her cunt.
She’d wanted me to slide down her stomach and stop at the top of her clit, massaging that tender spot with my tongue. And as I got that little bead hard and wanting and desperate to come, my finger would slip inside, arching up, the end of it grazing her G-spot.
Fuck me.
I needed her.
Since I slept naked, I rolled onto my back, moving the covers off me, the cold air in my room doing nothing to tame my cock; all it did was make me crave her mouth even more. I stretched my fingers around my dick, the instant friction causing me to moan, “Fuck.”
The tightness of my palm sent the top of my head into the pillow behind me. Within a few strokes, my toes were bending toward the end of the mattress.
I saw Jolie behind my closed eyelids. The outline of that gorgeous body. The way her hips briefly jutted out, rounding to her ass, and how those cheeks cinched up into the most perfect-shaped heart.
I released my dick just long enough to spit on my hand, and I resumed the same movement—going from base to tip, rounding across my crown, and down the other side, a constant U formation.
Fuck, it felt good.
But her mouth would feel so much better.
So would her ass as I glided between her cheeks, teasing that forbidden hole, getting even the smallest taste of it, before plunging into her pussy.
I wanted that tightness.
I wanted to get soaked in her wetness.
My heels pushed into the mattress, my body swaying to the rhythm of my hand. The harder I stroked, the faster I pumped, the deeper I moaned, “Jolie.”
I saw her.
I fucking felt her.
Hell, I could even smell her.
It was that combination that had me thrusting my fist over my cock as quickly as I could go, my fingers squeezing, trying to mimic her cunt. That was what sent me straight to the edge, forcing the cum toward my tip.
But what really brought me there was her.
The sound of her begging in my head. The sound of her pleading for more. The sound of her desperate to be fed my cum.
She was taking it. Every fucking inch.
Sucking it.
