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Dawg watched as Crista’s ass turned a pretty, heated pink. It mesmerized him. Seeing her body accept each delicately placed, heavy caress. Never too hard. Always just enough to heat rather than burn.
And it was heating her. Not just her flesh, either. Her legs parted farther, mindlessly following the direction of his hand beneath her knee as he lifted her small foot to the desk drawer he had pulled free.
He propped it on the edge, watching as her rear parted, as the soft curl-laden folds between her thighs were revealed.
Dew glistened on those folds. Sweet, soft little droplets that had his mouth watering to taste, to lick. He parted the soft swells of her rear once again and leaned forward, groaning as his tongue found the heated core of her pussy and the hot syrup filling it.
Crista flinched, cried out his name, and pressed back, giving him more, begging for a deeper caress.
Not yet. Hell no, not yet. When he finished, he wanted to be certain that not so much as a hint of her former lovers remained in her dreams. He intended to brand her body and her mind with his touch, his possession. When the summer was over, leaving him would be like tearing out her own soul. He’d make certain of it. He had to make certain of it, because he couldn’t imagine losing her.
He nearly paused at the thought. Dawg, getting possessive. It was damned unheard of, but he was. So possessive that he growled, nipped at her smooth rear, then stiffened his tongue and drove inside the liquid hot depths of her pussy as he slid from his chair to his knees behind her.
Sliding the sweet, slick juices from her pussy back to her ass, he lubricated the little hole enough to take the tip of his finger. She flinched, cried out, then drove back, burying the digit to the first knuckle as he fucked his tongue hot and deep inside her.
She was like a fire, burning in his arms. Each time he took her, more memories from that long-ago night coalesced inside his head. They twisted and formed and raced through his mind with a force that left him breathless.
She had taken him then as she was taking him now: eagerly, heatedly, calling out his name in that broken little voice filled with need.
Pulling back, he turned her, ignoring her frantic little mewls of denial, and lifted her to the desk.
“Lie back. ” His own voice bordered on demented. “Lie back, Crista. Give me what I need.
Now. ”
She fell back, her hair fanning out around her sweat-dampened head as her hands reached back and gripped the edge of the desk.
Dawg spread her legs slowly as he lifted them, arranging her feet at the lower edge of the desk and staring at the swollen, wet folds awaiting him.
He bent forward, his eyes closing as his tongue took a slow, greedy lick through the narrow slit.
Crista jerked beneath him, her hips lifting, a low wail leaving her lips. The sounds coming from her throat were making him crazy.
“The sweetest pussy in the world,” he told her gently as he leaned back, smoothed his fingers over the wet curls and stared up her. “Will you have it waxed for me, Crista? Will you have all those pretty curls removed so I can taste your skin, lick all your juices, and show you how sweet and hot it can be when nothing hides you from me? Will you do that for me, sweetheart?”
He pulled the tube of lubrication from the opened bottom drawer as he let the fingers of his other hand smooth over the drenched curves.
“Dawg. ” There was an edge of hesitancy and feminine distress in her tone. But her hips lifted to him, her body unconsciously seeking more.
Moving slowly, Dawg spread an application of the lubricating gel on his fingers, let it warm, then lowered his lips to the succulent flesh before him, while his slickened fingers moved to the sweet portal lower.
She cried out his name again as he pressed against the entrance to her anus. Her hips jerked, lifted, and a ragged cry filled the air as he pierced the narrow channel.
His tongue flicked around her clit, then he drew it inside his mouth as the second finger penetrated her tight rear.
God, she was fucking hot. She twisted beneath him, her juices spilling from her. His cock was aching like an open wound, and his balls were drawn so tight against his body that they were in agony.
“Answer me, fancy-face,” he groaned, lifting his lips from her sweet pussy and staring up at her as he worked his fingers inside the tender back hole. “Will you do that for me? Have your pussy waxed.
Make it all slick and soft for me. ”
He reach back to the drawer and drew out the small butt plug he had taken from the package earlier. She liked that edge of pain. She liked the burning pleasure that seared her nerve endings and made the need for orgasm an erotic agony.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Anything. Anything you want. ”
He drew his fingers from her rear.
“No. Don’t stop,” she pleaded raggedly. “Not yet, don’t stop. ”
