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Dr. Dangerfield slid the tip of her tongue over her top lip, remembering their last heated encounter. He’d fucked her so deep she could feel him lingering inside her for days afterward.
Oh, yes, Sin never disappointed.
“Then bring it with you tonight,” she whispered back. “Nine o’clock.”
“Look into your wife’s eyes,” Nairobia instructed the men. “And tell her you are good dick.”
“I am good dick,” the three men said in unison, loud and proud.
“Tell her,” Nairobia continued, “you are good loving, good fucking . . .”
“I am good loving, good fucking,” Roselle, Isaiah, and Kendall repeated.
Nairobia glanced over her shoulder, catching the eye of Dr. Dangerfield.
Dr. Dangerfield smiled knowingly.
Nairobia Jansen (if she felt compelled to) would sample one, if not all, of them.
And they would surrender to her desires.
And then . . .
She would fuck their souls loose.
Eighteen
The head of Sin’s thick meaty dick pushed inward, peeling open Dr. Dangerfield’s pussy, and then he glided in, deeply, smoothly, to the hilt.
He stayed like that. Balls deep. Buried within her slickness, for a long moment, while she watched him, their gazes full of want and desire, their bodies burning from the pleasure.
Her pussy clamped around his shaft, wrapping him in a sheath of delicious heat as her orgasm fluttered around his condom-covered dick.
Magnum-sized goodness.
Ah God, she loved the stretch of her cunt over the width of him.
He grunted.
And she moaned.
No words had been spoken between the two lovers from the moment she’d opened the door to her luxurious villa an hour ago, greeting him in nothing but her six-inch heels, their leather straps sexily wrapping around her calves, then up around her thighs.
He’d simply smiled, pulling her into him, his mouth capturing hers, while kicking the door shut with his foot.
And now they were in her bed—him on top, her shuddering beneath him, his smoldering gaze scanning her face.
Fuck me, she pleaded with her eyes. Oh God, please . . .
Sin sucked in one side of his bottom lip; easing his thick shaft halfway out of her body and then thrusting it back in.
He did it three more times, her juices soaking him,
his condom. Sin pulled back slowly and thrust forward again, watching her closely, gauging her responses to his strokes—his rhythm relentless and so, so, perfect. His deep strokes were neither too slow, nor too fast. Dear God—they were just right.
Deep.
Deep.
