“Oh fuck, Tiffany,” he moans. “How the fuck do you know how to do that?”
I open my eyes, spare a look for him, there’s surprise and carnal fervor on his face. It makes me blush. And it makes me wet. I need more than just his cock in my throat.
Slowly, I slip him out of my mouth, my hand still holding tight to his thick cock.
“You said before you liked my legs, didn’t you?”
He moans something I can’t quite make out; I give his cock a gentle squeeze to bring him back to attention.
“What’s that?” I say. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”
“I love your legs. Love your ass. Felt that way since the first time I saw you on the track team in those fucking short shorts. Fuck, just thinking about bending you over gets me harder than I’ve ever been.”
“So, if you want it so bad, why don’t you bend me over?”
Releasing his cock, I stand up, hook my fingers around the hem of the knee-length skirt I’ve been wearing since he first grabbed my hand days ago in the bank, and watch his eyes go wide as I slide it down and off.
No man has every looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now.
No man has ever made me feel like he does.
My skirt and panties touch the floor. Smiling, I do my best to gracefully step out of them and only wobble a little because of my injured foot. But the second I wobble, he’s on me. Grabbing me by the hips, holding me steady, and then spinning me around.
I plant my hands against the wall for stability.
I open my mouth and eyes wide because, the second I’m turned around, I feel his lips and tongue explore. Everywhere.
“Blaze,” I gasp. “Holy shit.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about tasting every bit of the famous Saint Tiffany? How bad I’ve wanted to do this? Just hold on tight while I eat you out.”
I can’t retort. It’s all I can do to hold on and wish this wall had handles while his tongue explores me in ways that make my head spin and my knees weak. He doesn’t shy away, doesn’t hesitate, and he listens as I moan and encourage him to please me the way I want. Tongue, lips, fingers, everything, and soon I’m rocking my hips backward, grinding myself against his face as my legs shake and tightness forms in my tummy as I get so close to the orgasm I know will wreck me.
And, with a flick of his tongue and a crook of his finger, it does.
I break.
Shatter.
Scream and moan and shiver and come against his face. Writhing and pulsing, my entire body on fire, sensitive to even the slightest touch and begging for more.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” I moan.
His fingers run up my back, and the gentle touch nearly sends me to the ground. His lips touch my ear, and his hands slide around my body to my chest, caressing my tits.
“Are you ready?”
I can feel him behind me, hard, thick, aching to fill me just as much as I am aching to have him inside me. Yet, I know that the second I were to say something, anything confirming that I am not one-hundred percent wanting his cock inside me, he’d stop.
Lucky for him, I want him.
Like I’ve never wanted any other man.
Because there is no other man like him.
“I am. Are you…?” I don’t know how to ask it. Don’t know if I want to even say it — oh, let’s break to go find a condom.
“My record isn’t clean, but I am.”
“Then, will you please and promptly fuck me?”
He chuckles. “With pleasure.”
My fingers claw into the wall and my mouth releases a moan that even the neighbors can hear as he fills me from behind. His hands grab me by the hips, take control of my body and, for the first time since I was hurt, giving up control of myself to another man doesn’t scare me; I want it; I crave it; I need it.
He fucks me like I’ve never been fucked; like no man ever has, like no other man could. He controls me, because I give myself to him. With no one else have I felt safe to offer everything, yet with him, I want to. With him, it’s different. Freeing.
And so much better.
“Saint Tiffany, no longer so saintly,” he rumbles as I rock my hips back into him, bucking against his thrusts, feeling his hardened lower abs crush against my ass.
“Would you have me be prim and proper, Blaze?” I say, looking at him over my shoulder. “No oral, just missionary under the covers, and with a shower right afterward?”
“Are you trying to make me go soft?”
I shut my eyes and loll my head back as he hits a particularly perfect spot inside me. Thunder shakes my body, and lightning courses my nerves in aftershocks.
“Blaze, I don’t believe that’s even possible.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” he chuckles.
There’s a strained note beneath his voice. Tension, the sweetest kind, is waiting just around the bend.
And an urge tickles me. A need. Something that’s lurked at the edges of my desires and, with him, has come roaring to the forefront.
“Take me to the bed,” I moan. “I want to look you in the eyes while you come.”
It’s bliss and pain when he leaves me, a sense of loss and the anticipation that surges
