Page 815 of Deep Pockets
I pull down my panties in my reply.
After this, I dare anyone to call me unadventurous.
“Beautiful.” His voice comes out guttural, caveman-like.
He straddles me, his naked skin rubbing over mine.
I can’t believe this is happening.
He kisses my neck, then sucks on my nipple before languidly dragging his tongue over my belly and lower. And lower still, with mind-numbing, teasing slowness.
After what feels like forever, I feel his warm breath on my sex.
Division by zero. File not found.
He gives it a probing lick.
I cry out.
Belka’s squishy Space Age material has nothing on his swirling, clever tongue. So clever, it should get an honorary PhD from Harvard.
The pressure builds.
I knead my hands in his hair, arching up as the pressure grows unbearable, intensifying with each passing second.
With a loud moan, I blast apart.
He looks up, primal male satisfaction written all over his beautiful face. “More?”
“Lie down.” My words come out boldly, almost like a command. There’s no room for shyness in the desire gripping me.
He gladly obeys.
I pull down his underwear, unleashing Dracula.
Input device driver error. Allocate more space.
Cautiously, I give his shaft an ice cream lick.
He twitches in response, urging me on.
I slide all of him into my mouth, jaws stretching to the limit.
“Fuck,” Vlad grunts above me.
Taking that as encouragement, I make a circle with my tongue.
And another.
After a third, he pulls away. “I don’t want to finish like that.” His voice is hoarse, his breathing uneven. “I want to be inside you. Assuming you’re ready for that.”
Ready?
If I don’t get him in me, I might die.
There’s just one problem.
“I don’t have a condom.” I glance around the living room as though looking for the latex fairy.
