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“Oh, please…” Serena begged and took in deep, desperate breaths of air.
Cree finally pulled her hood deep into the hot cavern of her mouth. She used her tongue to swirl and ferret out her pulsing, throbbing clit with such delicate ferocity, Serena thought she’d lose her mind.
As she licked and gobbled, laving her cunt, she removed the hand pressing down on her pelvis, and used both hands to separate the cheeks of Serena’s ass. She rotated them in counter-clockwise motions, delving her tongue deeper and deeper into her core at the same time.
“Yes, that feels so good, please—please don’t stop,” Serena shamelessly begged.
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sp; When she felt one, then two fingers press into her ass, pushing past the puckered resistance, she groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure so intertwined, she didn’t know where one left off and the other began.
The laps of Cree’s smooth, velvet tongue and press of her fingers inside her ass, was an erotic feeling unlike anything Serena had ever experienced.
Serena exploded.
She reared her body up, grabbed the woman’s hair between her fists, but Cree continued to lick, eat and consume her pussy with greedy laps of her tongue while carefully moving her fingers in and out of the tight walls of her anus. Serena’s body broke out in a fine sheen of sweat, her body shook and hips bucked against her mouth, and fingers.
Serena fell back down on the carpeted floor, her body writhing in violent trembles. Cree removed her fingers and shoved Serena’s legs up, spreading her as wide as possible and climbed on top of her.
Grinding her body on hers, Cree rubbed and pumped her pussy against Serena’s until Serena screamed. Plunging her tongue inside her mouth, swallowing her screams of passion, Cree continued to work her body along Serena’s until the orgasm slammed into both of them, flames licking through Serena’s body like a brush fire, devastating and complete.
Cree wrapped her arms around Serena and allowed them to ride the crest of orgasm together. When it was over, when her body was limp, completely boneless, and Cree lay quietly on top of her, she closed her eyes and smiled a tired yet satisfied smile, and gently reached a hand up to wipe away the soft tendrils of hair from Cree’s sweaty forehead.
At last she’d found what was missing from her life.
Kimberly Kaye Terry is a multi-published author who pens interracial, delicious tales that expertly blend eroticism and true romance for Kensington Publishing and Ellora’s Cave. She lives with her husband, a Lt. Colonel in the U.S. Army, and their beautiful child in a suburb in Texas. Kimberly has a bachelor’s degree in social work, a master’s degree in human relations and counseling, and is a proud member of the one and only Zeta Phi Beta Sorority. Kimberly invites you to relax while you curl up with one of her scintillating tales of vivacious women and the amazing men who love them as they make their journey to finding true love. For more about Kimberly Kaye Terry check out www.kimberlykayeterry.com
New Orientation
Delilah Devlin
I sped down the steps, my backpack bouncing wildly against me, spotted my gate, and slowed. I rechecked the rail timetable for the hundredth time—“22.20,” it read. Not trusting my own Timex, I glanced up at the large overhead clock next to the gate number. If I calculated the time correctly, the train should be rolling in right about now.
“Damn, I just made it.”
Already warm from too much cognac sipped at a tavern not far from the station, the sprint from the taxi stand had me wishing for good old air-conditioned air—a rare commodity in Strasburg. Instead, I fanned myself with the travel guide and peered down the tracks into the darkness stretching beyond the covered platform.
“You’re American,” came a crisp, nearly accentless voice from behind me.
“What gave it away? The dreadlocks or the Nikes?” I grumbled without looking back.
“The guidebook, actually. You’re always so worried about time when you’re on vacation—one might think you’re German.”
The amusement underlying her tone made me feel a little embarrassed for my rudeness, so I drew a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and turned.
I had to raise my gaze. The woman was taller than my own five feet four inches. Her angular shoulders, straight, boyish figure and chin-length hair were made more feminine by large, luminous blue eyes.
About my age, mid-twenties, she looked a world removed from mine—blonde hair, cream-colored skin, poised and polished like a shiny new doll. My clothing was rumpled and too casual for anyone from around here, except the teenagers.
I lifted my chin. “And how’d you know I’m on vacation?”
She shook her head, which sent her wispy hair shivering around her cheeks. “I’m not saying anything else, or you’ll think I’m pretending to be a psychic.” This time the slight accent sounded like a soft lisp. Nice…
The sound seemed to tickle down my spine.
“Your English is very good.”
She wrinkled her short, straight nose. “But not so good you didn’t think I might be American myself.”
