Page 140 of Pack Me Up
I smile against her, then suck hard, using my free hand to pin her hips in place. She thrashes, wild and desperate, then goes still all at once.
She comes with a cry, sharp and beautiful, her whole body seizing before she melts into the sofa. I keep licking, slow and gentle, drawing out every last tremor.
When I finally pull back, her legs are shaking, her face flushed. She tries to sit up, but I push her down, kissing her thighs and belly, marking her with my mouth.
“Still think I’m the quiet one?” I say, grinning.
She laughs, weak and happy. “Shut up.”
I crawl up beside her, wipe my mouth, and kiss her, soft this time, lingering. She tastes herself on my tongue, and her eyes go dark with want.
Outside, the stadium erupts. I hear the announcer say somebody hit a home run, and the crowd’s roar is a wave that rattles the glass. Brittney giggles, hiding her face in my shoulder.
“Guess the home team scored,” she says.
I bite her earlobe, gently. “So did you.”
We stay like that, tangled and close, until the noise fades and the world shrinks back down to just us.
In this moment, I have her all to myself.
She’s still twitching when I pull her into my lap, legs limp across mine, face bright and glazed with the rush. I cradle her, running hands over her shoulders and thighs, memorizing the way she fits me like she was custom-made, even better than a perfect match.
She turns, slowly, and kisses me, deep and lazy. She giggles when I nip at her chin, then rolls her hips and grinds down, feeling my hard-on pressing through my jeans.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” she teases, voice still shaky.
“Only if you leave me like this,” I growl, flipping her onto her stomach and pinning her wrists above her head. She laughs, wiggling, but she’s not trying to escape.
I lean in, lips against her ear. “You wanna help me out?”
She arches up, whispering, “Only if you ask nicely.”
I kiss the shell of her ear, then bite it, just hard enough to make her yelp. “I don’t ask nicely. I take what my desperate mate wants.”
She slides out from under me, drops to her knees between my legs, and pops the button on my jeans with one sharp twist. She unzips me slowly and deliberately, never breaking eye contact. I can barely breathe.
“You’re so lucky I find that sexy,” she tells me, and I really am.
She fishes my cock out, gives it a few slow strokes, then licks the tip, circling her tongue around the head. I hiss, gripping the edge of the couch for dear life.
She smirks. “Sensitive?”
“Don’t play with me,” I warn, but she ignores me, taking me into her mouth, inch by inch, until I’m all the way in. She doesn’t gag. She doesn’t even flinch. She hums around me, sending a shockwave up my spine.
I bury a hand in her hair, twisting the strands tight, guiding her pace. She goes faster, then slower, flicking her tongue just under the ridge, precisely the way I like it. She’s a fucking genius.
“You’re such a good slut,” I whisper, pulling her hair so she looks up at me. “Look at you, sucking cock in a stadium full of strangers.”
She moans around me, eyes wide and hungry, and the vibration almost makes me lose it. I want to wreck her, to own her, but she’s in control here. She knows it, and so do I.
She pulls off, breathless, lips swollen and slick. “You gonna come for me?” she asks.
“Not yet,” I say, dragging her up to straddle my lap again. I kiss her, hard, then flip her so she’s bent over the armrest, skirt up, ass in the air.
I yank her panties down, exposing her, and line up behind her. She’s still dripping, cunt swollen and ready, and I slide in with a single stroke. She gasps, grabbing the back of the sofa to brace herself.
I fuck her slowly at first, savoring the heat and the tightness, but it’s not enough. I grab her hips, pull her back onto me, and pick up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper, until she’s panting and begging.
