Page 135 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

So, is it really that bad that he’s enjoying this spread version of me in

bed while fucking my mouth with his relentless hips? Not really.

He moves his body in a fluid rhythm, slowly pulling and pushing out

of my lips with delicate deliberation. I admire how much resistance

he has because I know if he was fucking my pussy right now, it would

be a way different speed.

I manage to get my tongue around the head of his cock long enough

to make his hips jitter and shake, signaling the end is near. He

doesn’t seem very happy with that realization either, and he pulls out

of my mouth before he can drench it in an orgasm.

He leans in, his lips finding mine in an upside-down fashion, and his

tongue is more determined to swirl around my cheeks than it was

earlier. I have to choke on our kiss just to signal for him to let up, and

he does, smiling wide while he stands and strokes himself tentatively.

It shadows my face slightly, and when I think he’s ready to fuck my

throat again, he stalks around to the edge of my bed with a hungry

look in his eyes.

“Turn over.”

I don’t ask questions, flipping over onto my hands and knees while

he climbs in bed. His hand strolls up from my ass, finding my

shoulder where he shoves me forward haphazardly. My chest hits the

bed with a thud, and I chuckle to myself, knowing he’s behind me

with a view of my legs spread and my ass in the air for his vanity.

The irony isn’t lost on him either, and in fact, I know it was

purposeful.

His palm smacks against my bottom thigh once, in a warning that

doesn’t need words attached to it. I spread my leg a bit further,

feeling him fill that space in the next second. I keep my chest down,

breathing into my mattress while the head of his cock strokes up

from my clit and lands on the tightness that is my sex.

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