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“Where did you learn that?” I ask him the moment I’m capable of speech once more, my lungs working desperately to get the air in.
“I was born this way,” he says, pulling back from me. I grin as I see my fluids dripping down his chin, and I realize that I still want more of this. Taking my leg out from his shoulder, I plant the sole of my feet against his chest and then push him down. He falls back on his ass, and then I force him to lie down on the floor. He does it willingly, looking up at me with a feverish expression on his face.
“You’re fucking wicked,” he tells me as I place my feet on the side of his head and lift up my dress, giving him a good view of my pussy.
“That’s my middle name, brother,” I reply, the word ‘brother’ tumbling out of my lips like a drug. I lower my body, placing my knees on the side of his head, and then let my pussy fall on his open mouth. Sitting on his face, I lean forward and place both my hands on the floor for support. “Oh, God,” I breathe out, his lips and tongue working my pussy with feverish movements.
Swaying my hips back and forth, I rub my pussy against his mouth. This time I’m the one taking control of my clit; using only two fingers, I place them on top of that sensitive spot and start stroking it softly, the movement of my fingers matching the rhythm of his tongue.
I close my eyes as I ride his face, surrendering to the feeling of pure bliss that drifts through my veins. My God, I didn’t know that I could have such pleasure just from being eaten out.
“I think my pussy is in love with your mouth,” I say out loud, not knowing if he can hear me, being that my thighs are pressing against his ears. Still, judging by the renewed effort with which he licks me, I’d say he heard me loud and clear.
I grit my teeth so hard that I might shatter them, the hot coals of pleasure burning up inside me once more. Flames of delight grow tall inside my loins and then spread outward, consuming everything on their path and forcing me to scream so loud that I’m guessing every tenant in One57 has heard me. Well, screw it; let them hear it.
I hold my position until the final waves of pleasure wash over me, every single muscle in my body trembling as if I’m running a fever. Only then do I roll to the side, sprawling all my limbs as exhaustion takes over. I feel as tired as if I’ve just finished running a marathon. And, still, that insidious voice of lust inside me keeps on whispering: more, more, more. It seems like I won’t be getting any rest any time soon.
Taking a deep breath, I go up to my feet, one hand on the couch for support. Sloane stands up as well, my fluids glistening on his mouth and chin, and he looks like a hungry wolf ready to devour his prey.
“Are you just going to stare or are you going to fuck me?” I throw my words at him, knowing that I’m poking that hungry wolf, making it angry and wild. And that’s exactly how I want it.
Without a single word, he grabs both my wrists and closes the distance between us. His eyes seem like they’re made of ice and fire at the same time, and I realize that’s what made me lust after him in the first place: his eyes. Sure, he’s taller and more handsome than any man should be allowed to be. But his eyes, Jesus, they seem like two precious stones, shining smartly and lulling everyone they fall upon into a trance.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel like a virgin again,” he whispers, his voice leaving no room for doubt: he intends to keep his promise.
“I think Drake already beat you there,” I poke the wolf once more, and his eyes shine so fiercely that I think I must’ve gone too far this time. The wolf in him is snarling, and it’s going to eat me whole.
“We’ll see ‘bout that,” he whispers, letting go of my wrists and placing both his hands on my ch
est, grabbing at the fabric of my dress. He tugs on it so violently that I almost fall against him, a ripping sound clawing at my eardrums as he turns my dress into tatters. He rips it off of my body in a hurry, a lustful intent infusing every movement of his.
Finally throwing my dress to the side, he takes one step back and grins, looking at me smartly. His eyes meet my bra and then he goes for it, his hands looking for the clasp between my shoulder blades. He unhooks it and pulls the bra off me in a hurry, the fury in his movements making me so wet that my juices are dripping down my legs.
“Much better,” he says, looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.
“I want you to use me,” I tell him, already knowing that it’s what he’s going to do. “I want you to do whatever you want to me,” I continue, not even knowing why I’m saying these things. Some deep and hidden side of me yearns for that - submission.
“On your knees,” he growls, his voice telling me that he’s fighting for control inside his own mind and body. On the one hand, he wants to simply go wild and jump on me; on the other, he wants to remain in control of everything that he does. He’s walking a thin line, like the sharp edge of a knife, and the tension between us is so thick you could cut through it with a wire.
Obeying him, I go down to my knees right in front of him. There’s a hard edge to his eyes as he starts unbuckling his belt; he pulls it out from its loop and then lets it slip from his fingers. I only realize that I’m holding my breath when he pulls his zipper down, the contour of his cock delineated under his black boxer briefs. Oh, God, he’s as big as Drake—with a cock like this, it’s hard to believe he’s not related to our stepdad.
Looking onto my eyes, he then takes his hands to the collar of his shirt and undoes the top button. He keeps on working his way down his shirt, popping button after button with restrained patience, and then he lets fall down his arms. Ropes of muscle move under his skin, his eight pack summoning all of my attention.
How can a man be so perfect? Cover models, move aside; Sloane beats all of you. Every single inch of him oozes sex, and I’m talking the dirty and animalistic kind of sex. His body wasn’t made for lovemaking; it was made for fucking.
Still moving slowly, the tension in the air around us building until it becomes hard to breath, he kicks off his shoes. Pulling his pants down, he steps out of them, standing only in his boxer briefs, his cock throbbing under the fabric.
“Go on,” he merely says, and I reach for the thick shape under his boxers, my fingers trembling. I swallow hard as I touch it with the tip of my fingers, slowly curling them around his length. I feel it pulse and throb against my hand, and then I just flatten my palm against it, my heart skipping a beat as I do it.
The knife of anticipation is carving deep lines into my mind, and I can no longer control what my body’s doing: hooking my fingers on his boxers, I tug them down as hard as I can, sending them down to his ankles. His cock springs free at once, and it does it so fast that it slaps the back of my hand.
I hold my breath as my eyes roam up and down his long inches, taking in all of his size. Even after Drake, I’m not sure if I can take a cock like this again. Seriously, there has to be a limit to what my body can take.
“Are you just going to stare?” he asks me, repeating what I’ve told just moments ago. I don’t say a word, but the answer is pretty obvious; I’m going to do so much more than just stare.
I grab his cock with both my hands, biting down on my lip as I feel the warmness of his shaft under my fingers. I start stroking him right away, moving my hands up and down all his length, my brain working overtime to comprehend how big he truly is. He could use his cock as a sledgehammer.
I start slow, but all it takes is a few seconds for me to be stroking him as if the world’s going to end in the next few minutes. The motion of my hands become a blur, and I’m breathing raggedly from the effort. Needing a break, I take one hand out of his cock; at the same time, though, I lean into him. I part my lips and, opening my mouth wide, I wrap them around his cock, closing my eyes as his saltiness hits me at once.
