Before any of the stupid thoughts in my head can make me pull away, Elvis withdraws his mouth first. He stares down at me with hooded eyes as his hand moves to the hem of my shirt. I love what I’m seeing in his eyes so much, I curl my hand over his to aid in his endeavor to strip me bare.
The air hissing between his teeth when my breasts fall heavily on my chest tells me I did the right thing, much less the throbbing member I feel tensing on my thigh. He likes the bra I selected with the hope this is how our night would end up, but he’s more interested in what’s happening underneath the velvety red material.
“I’m like a kid in a candy store. I don’t know which goodie to sample first.”
I wiggle my breasts in his face. “Go for the gobstoppers. They’re more than a mouthful, but they last the longest since they never tire.”
His laughing breaths nib my neckline before his lips, then his teeth join the party a few seconds after that. “You don’t need to worry, buttercup. By the time I’m finished with you, it won’t be just your jaw aching.”
He tugs my earlobe with his teeth before lowering his mouth to suckle on my skin. He bites and kisses my neck, collarbone, and chest. His movements are slow, like he’s cherishing every moment, but fast, like he doesn’t want to lose the chance to sample every inch of me.
Like that will ever be a possibility.
When he reaches my panties, which are red and completely soaked through with my desire, he raises his eyes to mine. He stares at me for ages, his breath fanning my panties, his eyes arrested on mine over the globes of flesh on my chest.
He waits and waits and waits until I am at the point of desperation before slipping my panties to the side and slicing through my heat with his tongue. I call out as my back arches. Unlike the kisses he cherished my body with, he consumes my pussy with greedy licks and frantic sucks. He takes me to a place of hysteria within a matter of minutes. It is a beautifully twisted ride that treads the fine line of insanity.
My ass lifts from the sheets with a groan tearing from my throat. I feel like I’m spiraling out of control, like I’m on the verge of either a panic attack or reaching the highest crest I’ve ever climbed.
He devours me fast, eating me expertly with grunts as feral as mine. I come undone when his hand slithers up my stomach to cup my still-covered breast. His hand is so large, even my natural DDs pale in comparison.
I shatter like a glass, my orgasm rushing over me, pulling me into the darkness weighing heavily on my chest. While quivering through the pleasure blasting through every inch of me, my moans ramp up to a never-before-reached level. He should stop now. He should be pulling back. Instead, he circles his lips around my clit before slipping two fingers into my clenching core.
“Oh God. Oh God. Please, no. Oh god, no.” My orgasm has no end in sight. It keeps pummeling into me, taking every bit of energy I have left. “I can’t do this. . . Holy fucking. . . Christ.”
I dig my toes into the massive muscles on the top of Elvis’s shoulders and push back. I free my pussy from his mouth for barely a second before he snares my ankle and drags me back. He eats me like the Beast eating porridge, a sloppy, messy consumption that has my second giggle of the night rumbling in my chest cavity. Damn Skylar and her obsession with Disney movie GIFs. I’ve never seen the Beast in the same light since she showed me a GIF last year with comments way too rude for the movie’s PG rating.
My laughter is pushed aside when Elvis’s growl roars through my pussy. “Willow. . .”
“I’m not laughing. I swear. I just need a breather. Just for a second.”
I drag the curls sticking to my face out of the way before crawling across the sticky sheets. After wiping evidence of my arousal off his face with the back of his hand, Elvis watches me span the distance between us. He’s still wearing trousers, but I know he is hard. I can see the massive bulge in his crotch, much less the wetness at one side.
“How about I return the favor? You’ve eaten, so it’s only fair I get to have a little nibble as well.”
Little is not the right word for me to use while freeing Elvis’s cock from his trousers. There’s not a singlelittleabout him. Not a single fucking thing.
“Do you hear that? I think I hear my mom calling.”
I slip off the bed and charge for the stairwell, running away from a penis I have no doubt will snap me in half. My bunged knee gives me enough issues, so I sure as hell ain’t volunteering to become a cripple.
A panicked moan—or is it a turned on one?—rolls up my chest when Elvis bands his arm around my waist and draws me back. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I thought I could whip you up a sandwich? Egg and lettuce on rye with a large side of lube coming up!”
His laugh doubles the wetness between my legs, but I’m still not convinced I can take him. There should be a law against men with penises as large as his—or at least a warning label.
“What are you looking for?” Elvis asks after dropping his boxer shorts to huddle around his ankles with his pants.
“They have warnings about small parts being a choke hazard, so where’s the one warning me I risk asphyxiation because a penis is too large to fit down my throat?”
When Elvis laughs for the second time in under a minute, I raise my eyes to his, taking in his splayed thighs, a cock too perfect to massacre my lady bits, eight rock-hard bumps, and a set of pecs I intend to burrow my face and cry into when he claims a virginity I didn’t realize I still had.
Faking annoyance at his ruggedly handsome grin and lust-filled gaze, my eyes slit. “Are you laughing at me, Old Man?”
Ha! Take that.
“Holy guacamole!” My bra strap rolls up my back when Elvis hooks my ankle, drags me down the bed, then flips me over as if I’m weightless.
