Page 28 of Wrong Pucking Player

I’d do anything for this woman.

Heck, I’m on my knees before a woman I deem a bloody goddess.

If she asked me to pray and service only her, I would without hesitation.

I’m so madly in love, it’s probably pathetic to the rest of the world.

Like I fucking care.

She’s my diamond. My possession. I can be obsessed with her all I fucking want.

She’s mine, after all.

“Y-You’re that excited for this?” she shyly asks.

Does she even understand how fucking hot she is when she gets all embarrassed like this? I don’t think this woman before me understands the true feminine power she carries.

I don’t necessarily blame her.

With relatives who consistently remind her that she should have been male and not female, matched with her tomboy tendencies, she always questions how sexy she can be.

I make a mental note to remind her that she’s a goddess and no one can tell me otherwise.

“If I answer truthfully, will you let me eat your pussy out again?” I taunt.

I thought her eyes couldn’t get wider, but they do at my sudden request as those flushed cheeks get redder by the second.

“Pretty please, Xandra,” I use my tender voice while I know my eyes are seductively pleading with her to give me what I’m begging for.

“I-I… I guess?” she doesn’t sound sure, but it pushes me to slowly glide my bare hands along her upper highs, stopping at the bottom part of her shorts before I brush along the material until I’m at the waistband.

She stays completely still, neither of us breaking eye contact with one another while it’s clear my hands are right where the single button of her shorts is.

I wait for her to stop me, giving her the time to push me away. She knows I’d never hurt her, and I’d most certainly stop if she told me, too, but I still remind her of the power she holds.

She says stop, we stop.

She says fuck her like it’s our last seconds on earth, and I’ll lose myself in thrusting my thick cock inside her.

That just makes my erect cock twitch in urgency.

Down boy. We have to meet our diamond’s needs first.

My girl always comes first before anything else.

“Say it properly, Mackenzie,” I use her full middle name while I open that single metal button.

We’re silent while our ears perk up to listen to the slow descent of her zipper. We’re staring at one another the entire time, even as I lower her shorts inch by inch with her help of lifting her hips slightly. By the time those shorts are slipping off her ankles and dropping to the tiled floor below, I’m already between her legs, kissing the inner walls of her thighs, which has her hissing.

“W-Wyatt,” she hisses like a threatened kitten, which only tells me one thing.

My girl is extra sensitive today.

I don’t want to imagine who appeased her needs when I wasn’t around. I know it’s an afterthought that would ruin the mood entirely, so I avoid it in my mind.

I force my eyes, body, and mind to focus on what’s vitally important now.

Life changing even.

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