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I don’t want to waste my seed anywhere but her sweet wet slit, but I’m only human.
No man would be able to resist Rosie when she’s kneeling like this, her breasts seeming bigger as her small hands rise to them, compressing her flushed flesh as she pushes them together for me.
I tear my zipper down and free my cock.
She gasps as all ten inches of me spring free, my massive length bulging with veins, precome clinging to the end. The tip aches with the need for release.
“Beg,” I snap.
“Please come on my tits,” she whispers, shy at first.
But something shifts in her when she sees the effect she’s having on me. She pouts her lips and says it louder.
“Please, Ryland. Please come on me. Please, please, please.”
She continues to beg as I stroke my hand up and down my length, staring down at her with lust twisting its way through me, lust I’ve withheld for years.
I pump my fist furiously, spreading precome all over my gigantic dick, staring down at her as my vision begins to waver with the oncoming release.
Her voice rises, louder, moaning as I get closer and closer to the end.
“Your ass,” I grunt. “Bend over. I need. Your ass. Cheeks.”
“Okay, okay,” she pants, like the obedient minx she is.
She stands up and does a cute-as-fuck spin for me, sticking her ass out and placing her hands against the bookshelf.
“Like this?” she moans.
“Stick it out,” I snarl.
“Okay,” she cries, doing as she’s told. “Better?”
I let go of my rod and lean down, angling my cock so I can slide it between her ass cheeks. Precome smears across her skin, making it glisten as I slot the throbbing helm of my dick where it belongs.
Slippery and hot, I pump my hips, fucking the cleavage of her ass as the sensation drives me closer and closer to an explosion.
“Fuck,” I roar when it becomes too much to handle.
I squeeze her ass cheeks around my shaft and stare, captivated, as wave after wave of hot come squirts over her ass and her lower back, painting her in my need.
She gasps and grinds against me as my cock beings to wilt, the last of my seed drenching her.
I step back, my head fuzzy with the release.
“Did I do okay?” she whispers, turning to face me, every inch of her young, fertile, naïve skin tinged lust-red.
I grab her hand and pull her close, leaning down to capture her lips with mine. Her moan is adorable, part shock and part delight, as our tongues fuse together and dance in the shared space of our open mouths.
“Is that answer enough?” I snarl.
“I thought you’d be angry,” she says. “I thought you wanted, I don’t know… a fling? Something wild. And I thought you’d hate it when you found out that’s not what I am. Not that sort of girl, I mean.”
I smirk and stroke my hand along her head, smoothing down the rebellious strands of her hair. She smiles, closing her eyes as if to savor the contact.
“Let’s get dressed and discuss this on the balcony,” I say. “After all, I’m not a complete animal.”
She giggles and rolls her eyes at me, her meaning clear as if we’ve built up a lifetime of silent communication.
I can read the message in her copper eyes easily.
Yeah, right.
We sit next to each other on the couch, the lights of my estate turning the garden into a beacon of brightness. Chopper lies curled up under Rosie as though the little rascal has known her his whole life.
She’s changed into a long flowing dress, the type that’s made of fabric that settles like smoke against the gorgeous outline of her body, stirring my primal insides to action, my seed telling me to take her right now. I’m wasting time – my seed implores – by not claiming her right this second.
“So,” she says, “you’re not disappointed?”
I force my hands to remain on my thighs.
Reaching across to touch her tenderly can all too easily turn possessive and savage. I’ll mean well, but the next thing I know, I’ll have my hands on those round breasts of hers, squeezing possessively as I imagine how her pert nipples would look heavy with milk.
“Not even a little bit,” I growl.
I turn away from her, facing the garden. Staring at her for too long is driving me closer and closer to the edge of my control.
I can’t trust myself not to leap on her when she insists on looking so damn fuckable.
“I don’t understand,” she murmurs. “Why did you save me, Ryland?”
“I don’t hurt women,” I tell her.
“Who do you hurt, then?” she whispers.
I sigh and run a hand through my steel hair, turning my face up to the sky and studying the intricate map of the stars.
“I’ve never had to explain myself before,” I tell her, “and I don’t feel like starting now.”
