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.

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