Pixie exhales softly, and her hips buck at the sensation. I like knowing she’s turned on by me. No one else makes her wet. Just this big hulking asshole. Pixie only wants me to touch her.
A moan leaves her lips, echoing in the shower when I roll her nipples gently between my fingers. She reaches down to the spot she wanted me to touch before. I see myself lowering to my knees. I want to taste her red nipples. I even lick my lips at the thought, but Pixie stops me.
“The floor is hard,” she says, reaching over and messing with the knobs. “It’s slippery here, too. I’ll fall if you...”
Unable to finish, Pixie looks to me for help with turning off the water and making her feel good. I do the first one easily. Then I reach for a towel, but Pixie doesn’t wait. She walks out of the shower and toward the bed. When I see the expression on her face, I drop the towel. I can almost smell her sweet, wet pussy from here.
Pixie stands next to the bed, waiting for me. My hands cup her face, and Pixie lifts her lips. She understands what I want. When I lick her lips, she opens up. My tongue slides against hers, showing her what I like. Pixie takes her hands and cups my face. She imitates my movements in a way that is both adorable and makes my dick hard again.
I only leave her lips so I can kneel down before her. Panic rises in my chest. I’m certain we’ll be interrupted, and I’ll never get to taste her red nipples. Sucking one into my mouth, I wrap my arms around her so she can’t run away.
Pixie moans, stroking my head. Her hips arch forward, searching for relief. One of my hands grips her ass, the other slides between her folds from behind. Pixie groans as my finger finds the spot she wanted to show me earlier. Her hips move until her pussy grinds against my fingers.
“Anders,” she whispers, wanting more.
I suck her tit deeper as my tongue rolls back and forth over her hard nipple.
“Anders,” she said with more urgency.
I slide her clit between two fingers and apply the tiniest hint of pressure. Pixie whimpers, grinding against my drenched hand. Then she chants my name in a hushed, wobbling voice.
After she goes limp, I rest her on the bed. I quickly drape her long legs over my shoulders and press my face into her wet pussy. Pixie moans, squirming as if wanting free. I press my hands flat on her stomach and keep her in place while lapping up the sweet juices of a woman who belongs to me. No one else can have Pixie. I’m the one who found her. I won her heart. She can’t leave.
I don’t care if that’s crazy. Pixie isn’t normal. She should want me to claim her. That’s why she let me touch her and no one else.
Right now, I doubt she knows what she wants. Her body is on fire. Her pussy clenches wildly as I lick her from clit to asshole. She moans my name before dissolving into animalistic noises. She comes, I think. Maybe more than once. I can’t stop drinking down her pleasure. Her pussy addicts me.
But I don’t fuck her. My dick begs for a taste, but I can’t have it pounding inside her fragile body. So I fist my cock while fucking Pixie’s pussy with my tongue. I think she might want me to stop. I don’t, though. Not until I jizz on the fallen comforter while giving her pussy a few final licks.
Then, I crawl over her body and kiss her lips without thinking. I want what I want, and my brain is no longer running the show. My instincts are in control. That’s dangerous. I’m a selfish asshole if I don’t force myself to behave.
For Pixie, I need to become a better man. Or, at the very least, I need to learn to fake that shit better.
PIXIE
Anders scares me. When his big hands hold me down, I can’t break free without hurting him. And I don’t want to cause Anders pain. That’s why my heels never dig into his back when he holds me still and licks me past pleasure into pain. I also keep my hands from hitting or scratching him. I focus on the good part, even after it ends and I want to escape.
Finally, Anders lets go and kisses me. He doesn’t put his penis inside my vagina, though. I expect that to happen next, but he relaxes next to my body and presses his hand against my stomach again. I can’t move when he does that.
“Can we go outside?” I ask when he closes his eyes.
“Did you not feel good?”
“I feel trapped in this room,” I say rather than explain how his big hand is the reason I can’t free myself.
Anders opens his eyes and frowns at me. He’s in that angry mood again. I wonder if this is how he always feels, and I enjoyed only the short moments when he was calm.
“Did you feel good?” he asks again, trying to intimidate me.
“I had too many orgasms. My vagina feels strange now. I want to sit outside with you and talk like we did on the road.”
The scowl on Anders’s face falters, and his hand slides up to my right breast. “I could smoke a little weed. I’m not ready for bed. We could eat and talk and go in the hot tub.”
“I don’t know what that last part means, but I would like weed and food. Mostly, I want to spend time with you without a lot of people around.”
Anders finally smiles in the way he did on the road when we were alone. I miss how simple those times were together. I crave that Anders instead of the angry one who keeps trying to scare
