Page 46 of Taming Dahlia

In response, Blondie leaned forward, her delicate nose trailing gently across my cheek. Her warm breath brushed against my lips as she paused there, hovering.

“I may just let you.”

I closed off that last inch of space between us and allowed our lips to finally meet.

It didn’t take long until that first innocent kiss escalated into something far more passionate and wild. My fingers twisted in the strands of her hair, and she let out a breathy sigh.

That made me remember myself for a moment.

I pulled away from her, ignoring the part of my brain that was screaming at me against it.

“Blondie, not that this doesn’t feel nice and all. But I have to ask if you’re sure—“

“Oh, not you too,” she cut me off with an eye-roll. “Yes, I want this.No, you’re not making me sleep with you. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

She tugged at the collar of my shirt, pulling me up so she could do just as she said she’d do.

She was so demanding…

I loved it.

“And how do you want to do this?” I asked, my voice hitching as she ground her hips down into my lap.

“Like this,” she said, looking down at me with a rosy tint to her cheeks. “I want to ride you.”

“You want to do all the work, huh Blondie?” I teased her, and she bit my bottom lip in rebuke, which very quickly turned into another long make-out session.

I slid my hands up her baggy shirt, feeling the soft skin of her back, and she drew away so she could tug it off herself. We made quick work of taking the rest of our clothes off and once that was done, she placed her hand on my chest, stopping me when I went in for another kiss.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked, and it took me a second to fully comprehend the question. To be fair, I doubted that there was anyone in the world who wouldn’t have any difficulties concentrating on anything else that wasn’t her, naked and warm, in their lap.

“Wallet,” I managed to say before I pulled her in for another kiss.

I could feel her laughing against my mouth. “Of course, you’d keep condoms in your wallet.”

The fact that she was still talking meant that I wasn’t doing a very good job.

I had every intention of rectifying that as soon as possible.

My hand fell to the floor in order to roam around the pocket of my jeans — and the next couple of moments felt like snapshots in time — fleeting glimpses of skin and heat — before Blondie was wrapping her arms around my shoulders and slowly sinking down on me.

Her eyebrows squished together as she went lower and lower, and my hand tightly clutched the corner of the couch as I fought against the instinctive urge to jerk my hips up. I needed to take a second to just close my eyes and block the image infront of me. That, combined with the feeling of her clenching down on me, steered me right toward the edge.

I felt way too high-strung and we were only just getting started.

I heard Blondie let out a soft moan as she began grinding her hips deep in slow, careful circles. Her fingernails prickled my shoulders as her back arched to get to the angle where she wanted it.

I knocked my head back with a groan as she swiveled her hips, taking my cock in quick, shallow movements. I stroked her thighs as she bounced up and down in my lap; her winded breaths loud in my ear.

“Good?” I asked, just so that I could hear the answer.

“So good,” she replied breathlessly. She let out an exceptionally dirty-sounding moan when I bucked my hips up to meet her movements and I watched mesmerized as her mouth fell open as she clenched around me tightly.

“Ah, fuck, Ace—“ she panted, shifting forward and the new angle allowed another inch of my cock to slip inside of that sweet, tight clench. I kneaded at her perky little ass, which had made my attention stray more times than I would care to admit.

Watching her as she used my cock to get herself off was a delightful sort of torture — her face, sweaty and flushed, as she bounced up and down in my lap.

She started to roll her hips faster, her breath hitching into tiny gasps. I moved to place my hands on her waist, but she immediately swatted at them.

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