Page 73 of When It's Us
My grip tightens around my cock. I stroke harder, chasing the memory, the sound of her breath catching as she fought a moan.
God,her mouth.
I shove a second finger into her—rough and fast and groan loudly.
I let out a groan and fuck my fist faster. It’s perfect. I can almost feel her slick heat on my fingers.
“I knew you’d be soaked for me,” I murmur, eyes squeezed shut, into the quiet of the Vanagon, like I did that night against her ear. “You’ve been eye fucking me all night. You can deny it all you want, California, but a cunt this wet doesn’t lie.”
My grip strangles my cock. My other hand tugs on my balls, edging myself as is she’s right here with me.
Peaches and vanilla. That’s how she smelled that night.
“You know,” I tell her, “you should really ask yourself what that says about you. Riding the hand of the asshole you hate.”
“It says I like a big cock and a pretty face. N-nothing more.”
“God, I love the mouth on you,” I pant.
No resistance when I work her jeans down and bend her over the workbench. The moonlight casts her in silver-blue, skin glowing, and that’s when I see it.
Robin’s egg blue, dainty as fuck. So goddamn sexy.
“Butterfly tramp stamp, huh?” I say on a pant, tracing it with my fingers. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
Back in the Vanagon, I stroke harder, thumb running over the head, slicking precum. “Fuck.”
On my knees behind her now, completely at her mercy. Her ass is a fucking masterpiece. I grip both cheeks and spread her wide.
She gasps a whispered, “Oh fuck.”
The black lace of her tiny thong barely covers anything. My dick aches just looking. The urge to taste her—no, to feast on her—is overwhelming.
I fist the fabric and yank it up tight between her cheeks, causing her to whimper.
“This fucking ass,” I grit, nipping one cheek with my teeth. “Goddamn.”
She jerks slightly at the bite, head falling forward between her arms, hair spilling like a curtain over her shoulders as she rolls her hips back against my face.
I could come like this—face full of her, the scent of her slick heat in the air.
“You’re a slutty little thing, aren’t you?” I growl, letting my breath coast over the sensitive skin of her spread cheeks, followed by the pad of my thumb ghosting across her hole. “So fucking pretty.”
She shudders, grinding against me, hips circling in desperate, greedy little movements like she can’t decide what she wants more—my fingers, my mouth, or both.
One hand works her over from the inside, while the first and second of my other hand work her clit. She moans and whimpers, pressing back against me as I bury my face between her cheeks, licking, sucking, nipping at her until her thighs shake.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants, then suddenly she’s coming—body tensing, filthy sounds pouring from her lips. Curses and panted breaths mix with the wet, obscene slick of her soaking my hand as I fuck her through it.
The filthy scene plays out in my mind and next she’s on her knees, curls wild around her face, eyes locked on mine.
I jerk myself faster, my grip punishing, desperate.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, eyes wide. “You’re pierced?”
“Think you can take it?”
She teases the piercing with her tongue, then draws the tip of my cock into her mouth."Such a greedy girl,” I praise her.
