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“I’ve been sweating.” She gasps as I lean in and lick the outside of her pussy. “Jason—”
“You smell so good: all female, all Lo, all mine.” I lift her knee and pull one foot out of her shorts before getting the shorts off that leg and throwing it over my shoulder.
“Oh, God,” she cries as I pull her hips toward me and push my face hard against her. “Jason.”
I lick her hard, the way she likes it, parting those soft, fuzzy lips. I rub my nose down her opening, and her hands fist in my damp hair as she cries out.
Egged on by her noises, I grip her hips and shove my tongue deep inside of her. I feel her soft, wet, velvet walls clench around my tongue, and I fuck her faster with it. Her body tenses. I need her closer.
I pull back and pant, “Hold the handles on the fucking lockers and don’t let go.”
As soon as she complies, I lift her other leg and push her back against the lockers as I fuck her hard with my tongue. She loses all control and drops her hands from their grip.
I can’t get enough of her: her taste, her smell, her moans, her cries. I lick her harshly, driving my tongue in, curling it up, tasting and tormenting her, praising my angel’s sweet, hot, slick pussy. My reward is when her hands fist in my hair, and she rides my face, grinding her hips, taking what I give her and begging with her body for more.
“Yes, yes. Oh, Jason, yes.” She stiffens, her cunt strangling my tongue, and her juices soak my face.
I grip her to keep her in place and turn so I can lay her on the bench. I shove down my shorts and push her quaking body up so I can slide onto the bench. I then rub my cock up and down her slit. She is glistening, swollen. Her clit peeks out from its hood, and I can’t help tapping it with my aching cock.
“Please,” she begs softly.
“Please what, angel?” I ask, tapping it again.
“I want you,” she moans.
“You want my cock inside of your pussy?”
“Yes,” she whimpers.
“Tell me,” I growl.
“I want your cock inside of me. I want you to fuck me. I want your come.”
Restraint gone, I slam into her and hiss. “You want my come?”
“Yes. Of course, yes. I want everything.”
“I’m gonna come so hard for you,” I say as I grip her hips and slide her up and down the bench. Her pussy glides down easily on me. “So fucking wet.”
“For you,” she cries. “Always for you.”
“Fuck,” I hiss.
I need in deeper. I want to be buried inside her. I want to come so hard in her it makes her body tremble under me.
I stand, still connected, lifting her, and plunge in deep, hard, fast. Her pussy walls contract, and my balls are so tight they almost ache.
“I’m gonna come so hard for you.”
“Yes. Oh, please, Jason, please.”
My dick thrashes inside of her as hot liquid fires hard into her, unloading everything I have . . . for her.
She lies in our bed, exhausted from her workout and from the pounding I gave her at the gym and then again at home. I can’t get enough.
I lie next to her, equally as drained, and push her hair off her face. “You wanna go again?”
I see her thighs clench and can’t help chuckling.
“Did I wear you out?”
“I’ll give you anything you want, but can you allow me ten minutes of rest?” Her smile is a sweet plea.
My phone rings, and I nod at her as I reach toward the nightstand and grab it.
Without looking, I answer, “Hello.”
“You either stop avoiding me or I come over there and question you and that little”—he pauses—“lunatic you’re fucking.”
“I have no fucking clue what you are talking about, Father, but you watch your fucking tone when you—”
“The letters!” he bellows.
“What the hell are you talking about? What fucking letters?” I look over at Lo. Her eyes are wide. She looks terrified, and my stomach is in knots.
“I warn you, Jason, if you try to get revenge on me using that little bitch’s tragedy, you are going to find yourself in a situation that I will not be able to, nor would I, help you out of.”
“What fucking letters?” I repeat, staring directly at her.
“Don’t you lie to me!”
“I never have,” I tell him honestly. “You are barking up the wrong fucking tree. Good night.” I hang up the phone and look at her, asking the question I already know the answer to. “You know anything about letters?”
She cries herself to sleep on my lap after I calm her down. Now she is afraid again. She’s afraid because she thinks they will come after both of us. I don’t doubt they will, but they can’t get to her here. I know it. I have explained it, and I think she believes it. Regardless, tomorrow, Brock will be outside this building while I’m at work, looking for answers.
