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So fucking good. So tight. My dick twitches and jerks, and my balls lift. So close. So fucking close, and…
My eyes fly open.
The girl is right there, between my legs, sucking on my cock. Pretty. Smoking hot, with those dark hair and sultry eyes that get me every time, looking up at me.
Raylin. It’s Raylin.
And she’s sucking. On. My. Dick.
Whoa.
My sleep-addled brain is slow and fuzzy. My thoughts trip over one another, and when she swirls her tongue on the underside of my dick, the pleasure goes off the fucking charts, blowing my mind. I actually see bright spots exploding in my vision.
Then she takes me deeper in her mouth, and my body jerks, as if touched by a live wire. She drags her lips up and down, her tongue pressing underneath, licking at my dick like a lollipop.
“Ungh.” My brain is sparkling, imploding. My body tightens and clenches, the pressure in my balls reaching critical mass. I’m about to explode, and she’s still looking at me, her sweet mouth wrapped around my cock. My fingers are in her hair, holding on tight. I try to push her off me. “Fuck, I’m gonna…”
She moans deep in her throat, the vibrations hitting me like a sonic blast, and there’s no holding back anymore. No way in hell. My stomach contracts, and I bow over her, my balls clenching and dick surging in her mouth, jerking and erupting in scorching jets.
“Goddamn…” I grit my teeth, riding another swell of pleasure as it rises. I come and come in the velvet vise of her mouth, and she swallows it all.
Fuck me, that’s hot. So hot I can’t seem to stop coming. The muscles in my thighs tremble when I finally slump back, thumping my skull on the headboard and barely feeling it.
Jesus F. Christ.
She releases my limp dick and wipes a hand over her mouth. In a daze, I reach for her, worried she might bolt, that she didn’t enjoy it after all.
“Come here,” I croak, and she smiles at me, all pleased and shit, like the cat who ate the cream. A fitting image, one that brings back flashes of her mouth around me and has my cock trying—in vain—to stir again.
Yeah. No chance in hell.
Then she lies down next and presses her awesome curves to me, and all bets are off. I lean in and kiss her, tasting myself on her tongue, and damn if need doesn’t curl in my gut again, tightening my balls.
I moan, arousal hammering my insides. Yeah, just gimme a minute.
She cups my face, grinning in the kiss, and I’m gone. A goner. I can only breathe her in, taste her, hold on to her. She makes me smile. All the fucking time. I can’t remember smiling so much in years.
What the fuck’s happening to me? The weird funk I’ve been in is weakening its hold on me. I could spend years in this bed with her, I think, and my dick gives an enthusiastic twitch at the thought.
But she breaks the kiss and draws back. Before I can protest, she puts a hand over my mouth. “Storm, we need to talk.”
Not exactly what was on my mind, but she has a determined glint in her eye, and I remind myself I want to know more.
I tell my dick to suck it up and wait.
“Okay,” I say against her fingers, and she shivers. “Talk.”
“You may kick me out when I tell you,” she whispers, and some of the steel leaves her gaze. Now she looks apprehensive. “See, things are a lot worse than I let on.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I figured that.” I mock-bite her fingers, and she puts her hand down on my chest. “I also figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“I told you I believe you.” And I do, for some strange reason. Maybe it’s because she can’t lie to save her life. Her face is an open book. And she’s telling me the truth.
“Why aren’t you running yet, Storm?” She sounds intrigued and a little put out at my lack of reaction.
So I tell her the truth. My truth.
