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Let’s be real, what fucking man doesn’t want a woman who is open to learning shit?
“Fuck, Opie…” My lower half feels like it’s in this numb sensation of pleasure as she takes every thrust of mine. The short and long ones. The way I can’t decide how I want it because every way creates the pressure in my balls to take one step closer to release. “You look so good down there.”
Liv glides a finger across my aching balls, manipulating my orgasm, and I want it to where she’s slobbering on my cock and all I see are her pretty blues watering.
“I’m going to go harder,” I profess, stroking her cheek with my other hand. “Squeeze my thigh if it’s too much, okay?”
That sweet hum is my approval as I drive myself into her mouth with force. Liv gags as I give her some room to breathe for a second before going back again. She holds her breath, inhaling through her nose where her airway is free, and learns the pace.
It’s not long before I’m there.
On the apex of tumbling over and spilling myself down her pretty throat to mark as mine.
“I’m going to come,” I warn her. “If you want it, little girl, you stay right there.”
Liv does, fuck me, she does.
My perfect little smart-ass woman who always faces shit head-on.
Even me.
My dick twitches before I’m pouring my release inside her mouth. She takes it, so fucking flawless in the way she allows me to take her lips. The grunts that leave my chest are fucking strained and hard, liberating my need to own this girl for however long we have.
When I’m spent, I slowly pull from her lips and lean over to hover my mouth over hers. “Let me see.”
She opens her lips, showing me that she’s taken every single drop of me and my mouth mindlessly slams into hers.
My tongue searches, connects, and tangles to show my appreciation and satisfaction to what we’ve agreed to.
She’s mine.
I’m hers.
We’re not dating but we’re fucking.
What could possibly go wrong?
twenty-three
. . .
LIV
“What’s the amount of times a woman can change her mind over one thing?” Winslow leans over the receptionist counter, brow furrowed before he points a long finger toward his room. “She’s in there picking out another design, Liv? That’s the fifth one.”
I cover my mouth with my palm, making it appear as if I’m contemplating the secret behind my sex and the turmoil his client is currently putting him through. “About a dozen more times, I’m sure.”
His eyes go wide as saucers. “A dozen?” The idea simmers in his head and his shoulders slump. “Geezus Christ…”
“Don’t you have, like, three daughters, Win?”
“Four.” He rubs his forehead with the side of his finger. “I’m going to lose my shit on this chick.”
“Be nice,” I coo with a smirk, placing my lips around the green straw of my Starbucks drink. “It’s permanent.”
“It’s called good manners and not wasting my time.”
I reach for his forearm and tap it. “How about I get you some coffee and I’ll grab you a muffin from Starbucks?”
