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When Trey Songz’s “Red Lipstick” starts to play, I reach for him. “Dance with me,” I say, grabbing him by the wrists. He gives me a confused look. I repeat myself, pulling him up. His rigid cock greets me as he steps into me, wrapping me in his arms. I move to the music and he follows my lead. Hip to hip, skin to skin, our naked bodies blend and melt into one. I close my eyes and breathe him in, fill my nostrils with his strength and masculinity. His hands glide up and down my body, finally resting on my ass where they stay through most of the song. Panting, we both get lost in the music.
He squeezes my ass; grinds deep in me. “Damn, what the fuck you tryna do to me?”
“Sssh,” I say, looking up at him, pressing a finger to my lips. “Just dance.”
Three songs later, Emerson and I are still grinding in the middle of his floor, no words being said. His arms feel so good wrapped around me. His hard body feels good against mine. I don’t want this feeling to end.
Then don’t let it.
I have to.
Then what the fuck are you doing here?
Living in the moment.
Mmmph, if you say so. And exactly where are you going with this?
I don’t know.
Bitch, you can’t lead this man on.
I’m not. We’re simply two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company.
This man wants more from you. He has feelings for you. He’s a good man.
I know he is.
Then what the fuck do you want from him?
I don’t know.
What are your feelings toward him?
I don’t know...
I glance up at Emerson; he’s gazing at me. Catching me off-guard, his mouth opens and he’s kissing me, loving me with his mouth—thick, luscious lips pressing against mine, pulling in my bottom lip. I’m scrambling for footing before I slip and fall into his web; his tongue weaving its way deep into my mouth. Slowly, without much resistance, I’ve become entangled in a maze of passion.
“Why are we still dancing?” he finally asks, coming up for air.
My breath catches in my throat. “Because it feels good.” He asks if this is what I want to do all night; stand here, grinding and teasing him. He presses his dick into me for emphasis.
“No,” I gasp.
“Good,” he says, scooping me up in his arms, then laying me down on the bed. He kisses my stomach, then trails his kisses up to my breasts, my nipples, then back down to my navel. “I’m gonna make love to you tonight.”
I flash him a breathless smile, spreading open my legs as he rolls on a condom. He glides his dick back and forth over my slit, slaps it up against my clit, then slides into me. I grab him by the ass. Pull him in deep, inviting him into a night of passion.
Like a hot knife, his rhythmic thrusts slice into the center of my pussy, melting my sugary walls. And, before long, I’m coating every inch of his cock with a hot, sticky paste. He reaches a hand underneath me, strokes my titties, then runs his fingers down my body toward the front of my pussy. He seeks my clit, rubbing it with two fingertips. His circling fingers and the stroking of his dick morphs my swelling river into a roaring ocean of hot, foamy waves of orgasms, each wave crashing against my inner walls and splashing up against his dick. I’m drowning him in my wetness. I clutch his shaft, milk the length of him with each stroke, sending him into trembling moans of candy-coated joy.
“Ohhh, shit...aaah...oh Passion...aaah, fuck, baby...Your pussy’s so fuckin’ good.”
“Is it as good as my sisters’?” I ask him this, knowing I’m putting him on the spot. The truth is I already know the answer: all three of us have good pussy. Damn good pussy. I only want to see how he responds.
He grunts, slows his thrusts. “Your pussy is better.” He looks me in the eyes when he says this. He cups my ass, pulls me in, burying his dick deep. “Oh, shit...much better.”
“Lose your dick in me,” I whisper to him, gliding my fingertips along his spine, until my hands rests on his firm ass. I squeeze his cheeks, pulling him deeper into me. I look in his piercing brown eyes; connect with his troubled soul. Tonight, whatever his issues might be, they don’t exist; they don’t matter.
As he moves his body, I move mine. Our hands, our bodies, our lips, our tongues are dancing to the same music. Our grunts and moans are in beat to our rhythm.
