Page 48 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

I use the tip of the blade to pull her skirt up and over her thigh as I take her other breast in my mouth and lavish it with the same care. Her hips start to move. A slow, undulating rhythm that I know doesn’t satisfy with how it barely brushes the lower part of my stomach. So I let her ride my lap, let her mewl and whimper, because I know she can’t get what she needs to come.

And I realize that’s where this ends.

When I make her come in her pretty black lingerie. Ruin the expensive lace she got just for me. I lean back again, making quick, harsh work of slicing through her sleeves and tugging the fabric from its prison.

She takes it and throws it aside. I tighten my grip on her laces and she wheezes out two little words.

“C-can’t breathe.”

“Ah, but you like that a little, don’t you, little bird?” I ask her, unable to keep from grinning. “Sweet, inexperienced Lillith likes to be choked.”

He face reddens with shame and I wish I was the kind of person who felt guilty for that, but I simply am not that guy.

Especially not as she rolls her hips in a way that coaxes the sweetest moan from her lips.

“I thought so,” I tell her.

I slice into her skirt next, then ditch the knife and my hold of her corset to rip through the flimsy fabric with my bare hands. Each sharp tear comes with a gasp, her corset giving her ribcage just enough space to get a couple full breaths in. She grunts in frustration when she can’t get the friction she wants and it’s just so funny how pathetic she is, trying to make herself come with the nylon in the way.

I place my hands on the tops of her thighs and force her to still—force her to sit. The devastation in her expression pulls a mirthful laugh from me. Lillith pulls this sadism out of me more than any other partner has. My cock is hard as a rock beneath her as I feel along the smooth fabric encompassing her legs until I find what I’m looking for.

A little run in the stocking. Maybe acquired when she put them on with her pointy little kitten claws, or maybe snagged by the rough fabric of my jeans while she dry humped my lap. I slip my middle finger into the tear, as smooth and practiced as it will be when I slide that same finger inside her needy cunt. The weak fabric gives way to the invasion, so I slide in a second finger.

I watch Lillith’s eyes as she watches my fingers. Her pupils swell so wide that they almost eclipse her irises. She watches with rapt attention as I unravel her from her stockings.

At this point I don’t even care about the scraps of lace covering her pussy. Because the dreamy need I find in her face is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.

She wets her dry lips, and finally meets my eyes as I discard the stockings.

“Th-the... kn-knot—” she shudders out. “On the c-corset.”

I shake my head. “I’ve decided I like it,” I husk out, scooping my hand beneath the ruined lattice of laces and lifting her up to her knees so she hovers above me.

I use my free hand to unzip my pants. Her gaze dips between us, and I relish the way she watches as I adjust myself. Taking my time to pull my cock out of my pant leg and set it to rights, flipping it upward so that it’s pressing against the front of my boxer briefs. I wrap my hand around the underside of my erection, over my underwear, palming myself with slow lazy strokes.

At the same time, I help Lillith situate herself over the meat of my thigh, pushing her down until I feel the humidity of her dripping pussy cloy against the denim.

“Make yourself come on my leg,” I instruct her.

She whimpers, but she obeys, bracing her hands on my shoulders as she slowly drags her wet panties over my thigh.

I settle back into the sofa, free arm draping over the back of the couch while I wrap my hand round my cock. I match my rhythm to Lillith’s, stroking myself in time with her rolling hips. Her mouth drops open and I fixate on the tendrils of saliva that spiderweb between her perfect teeth.

I think of putting this thick cock inside of that mouth. Watching her gag on it. Smearing her mascara with her tears. She would look so perfect covered in her spit and my spend. It would be so hard to pick: spilling it down her throat or admiring how it glistens on her pleasure-drunk face, dripping off that perfect lower lip.

The mental image has me pressing my middle fingers deep into her mouth, pressing her tongue down until she gags. Until I feel the back of her throat pulse around the intrusion.

“Fuck—Lillith—FUCK!”

My hand slips from her mouth as my climax bursts out of me. She grasps my wrist, before I can drop it, pressing my fingers deeper into the back of her throat and hollowing her cheeks as she sucks them eagerly.

She’s whimpering. Her legs shaking as she tries to get off against my thigh. She’s tired. But she’s close. Her eyes are closed and I wonder what she’s picturing. Is she imagining my cock in the back of her throat too?

With my free hand, I press my thumb to the spot where she’s grinding and swirling against my thigh. Her movements stutter as she, gasps once and meets my eyes.

“More?” I rasp out.

It’s more than we’ve ever done together. The closest I’ve been to fucking her yet. Her clit is warm and swollen beneath the lace at the tip of my thumb.