Page 27 of Wrong Pucking Player

Thank fucking God.

I reward her with a kiss—a smothering, oxygen-stealing, toe-curling kiss that has us abruptly breaking it for that burning gasp of breath.

That’s the perfect distraction to ignite my descent down her body.

Kiss after kiss along any place that shows her skin—neck… shoulders… the top part of her taunting cleavage.

Moving down her curvy figure is always my favorite part. Feeling my hands go down the sides of her waist until they’re on her hips, but I don’t stop there, knowing I have to go farther.

A few inches farther down until I’m gripping the top part of those thick thighs of hers.

By the time I’m there, I’m literally on my knees.

I should say grace before meals to thank the Lord for giving me such a divine meal.

I’ve surely lost my mind, thanks to a shot of lust making me fucking delirious, but that, matched with my hardened cock, is making me spiral into a hungered beast who would devour anything to appease the intense thirst I was internally begging to be quenched.

Patience.

Just a few more seconds.

As much as my body impatiently yearns to be between Xandra’s legs, I need to savor this moment for a few more seconds.

Remind myself that this isn’t a dream.

That I’m back in this same place.

Despite all the uncertainty and chaos that led to us drifting our separate ways, we’re back here—where it all started.

Our first kiss.

Her first time sucking my cock.

My first time eating her pussy out.

The first time I had the courage to confess I love her.

That was the hardest part to acknowledge once again because that still hadn’t changed.

I still love her…

“Wyatt?”

I slowly look up to see my girl’s hesitation.

My stalling is making that smart mind of hers spiral into a whirlwind of a million thoughts that always try to take us down.

The idea of us together. The challenges that would come our way. The various differences between our working classes. The reality of how polar opposite our lives really are.

“I need to savor this, Xandra Dearest,” I admit as I slowly lick my bottom lip.

She follows the trail of my tongue’s movement. Every inch is trailed along with her blue-teal eyes.

I stop her legs from moving inward involuntarily, and when I dare lean closer without breaking eye contact, I get a whiff of her wetness.

God…

I’m going to hell.

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