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Deeper.
Dr. Dangerfield gasped.
Sin dusted kisses along her jaw, over her neck, then down to her breasts—left one first, then her right one.
Scootie’s “One” played low in the background. Not her choice of music. She preferred something a bit more sensual, something with a more erotic vibe. But it was Sin’s song choice. And what Sin wanted, Sin got—or he took.
He repeated what he’d done—pulling out of her body in a slow, wet glide, then plunging back into her wetness, and she nearly cried out. An orgasm danced along the edges of her cunt, sweeping tiny sparks of pleasure along her walls.
Sin repeated his movements twice more and then he stopped going slow—his dick strokes becoming more driven, deeper, piston-like, his strokes echoing over the music. Each stroke reminding her of how good his dick was, of how much she needed this . . . this good loving.
No talking. No promises.
Just strokes and moans and the swish-swish of her pussy, wet fire spreading through her—almost infinitely—as she thrust upward, greeting his movements with her own hungry need.
He fucked her orgasm loose, and she arched her body up into the vortex of exquisite heat.
Dr. Dangerfield hissed, her eyes rolling up and around in her head.
A deep groan left Sin’s throat as he drove up into her harder, deeper, his mouth covering hers as she twined her arms around his neck.
She was spread wide for him, her thighs, her cunt, her mouth, capturing every inch of his flexing flesh, his thrusting cock, and his sumptuous lips. She sucked on them with tender abandon, her tongue sweeping inside his mouth every so often.
Sin’s hips moved languidly, lingering in her juicy heat, before he wrapped his arms around the backs of her thighs and folded her body in half, tenderly loving her in that position, stroking over her G-spot.
Yes, yes, yes—oh sweet Lord, yes . . .
Sin was definitely the one you called for good loving, Dr. Dangerfield decided as she felt him everywhere—in her, on top of her, all around her.
She circled her legs around his waist, giving him as much of her as he’d given her of him, her flaring lips suckling his shaft with every stroke.
Swish, swish, swish . . .
Wet pussy.
Clutching walls.
Sin moving in and out of her, stroking that spot deep inside her.
Dr. Dangerfield moaned.
Sin was an enigma, one that Dr. Dangerfield admitted not having quite figured out. But she knew enough about the man with the good dick to know whenever she was with him, she never had to worry about not being pleasured.
The man was consistent.
Dr. Dangerfield gasped again.
She whimpered.
She writhed.
Her pussy, opened and stuffed, throbbed around him.
Sin.
Sin.
Sin.
