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Marcel groaned, his back arching in the wave of pleasure. “Aaah…shit…motherfuck, baby…mmm…I love your mouth.”
No avoiding the truth now. Nairobia loved his big, long cock. Her pussy spasmed as she stroked him, coaxed him, and swallowed him down into the warmth of her throat. His heat and musky scent were maddening. She dug her nails into his hips, scraping flesh as she took him deep and massaged his testicles with tongue.
He cried out, the sound both erotic and animalistic.
His heart raced, and his fingers dug into the sheets. Unfuckingbelievable. She managed to get every inch of him down into her throat. His head spun as her throat constricted around the width of him, clutching him.
He breathed through his nose, weaving his fingers into her hair, bucking.
“Oh shit, oh shit…” The pressure built in him, and he lifted his hips up into her mouth. He gasped. Growled. Gritted his teeth. Then called out her name as he came hard, bursting flames of passion into her welcoming mouth, his semen sliding down into her neck like warm chocolate.
Like the talented vixen she was, Nairobia swallowed every drop of him, sucking him until he went soft. His wet, sticky dick plopped out of her mouth, and she looked up and grinned seductively at him. She crawled up over him, kissing her way up to his parted lips.
He groaned, and tasted himself on her tongue.
Then pulled Nairobia into his arms, wrapping a leg over her. She blinked. What the hell was he doing? She tried to unwind herself from his deliciously warm, muscled body, but Marcel groaned in protest and tightened his arm around her.
“No, my love,” she said, pushing up, trying to unwind herself. “I’ve entertained you long enough.”
Eyes closed, Marcel grunted, and his huge hands ended up splayed across her ass.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he whispered to her neck. “And neither are you.” He squeezed her ass. “Not until you give me some pussy.”
Nairobia didn’t respond, because her clenching cunt would betray her every word.
Bastard.
TWENTY
“Mmmm…ooh, ja, ja, ja,” Nairobia panted as Marcel used his fingers to open her to him. He pressed a kiss over her mound and then nuzzled deeper, inhaling her arousal, all that pink, feminine inner flesh for the taking, glazed with pleasure.
Nairobia moaned again as Marcel used his tongue like a dick, licking her from the inside out, stroking her silky walls. “Come in my mouth, bèbè,” he said huskily, raising his head to look up at her. His eyes were dark. His gaze focused. “Donnez-moi ce lait sucré.”
He wanted her to give him her sweet milk one more time before he stretched her sweet, tight pussy over his dick. He hadn’t forced himself on her the night before. Hadn’t pressured her to let him be deep inside her. She wanted his tongue lapping her cunt. And he’d respected her wishes. But today was a new day.
He wanted inside her.
And he planned on fucking her, making sweet love to her, all in the same measured strokes.
Her wetness melting like honey on his tongue, Marcel sucked in Nairobia’s clit, and she dissolved into pooling heat, arching her back and mewling out. She pumped her hips against his mouth and clutched his shoulders, moaning.
Nairobia was a dominant, powerful woman and Marcel loved seeing her lose herself to him. But she was nothing like Marika—not that he should be comparing the two. However, Marika had always given of herself willingly to him, submitted to her desires for him endlessly, whereas Nairobia was defiant. Brazen. And she refused to submit to any man.
But Marcel would break her, if it was the last thing he did. He would teach her how to lose herself to him, his pleasure. He bit down into one nipple and pinched her clit, and Nairobia cried out, her warm juices sliding out of her body.
But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted her to beg.
“Me dire que vous voulez que je vas te faire encule,” he whispered in her ear. (Tell me you want me to fuck you.) “Beg pour cette bite…” (for this dick).
Nairobia would have laughed in his face if her cunt wasn’t clutching and she weren’t so caught up in sweet rapture. She begged no man for his cock. Not when she had an abundance of hard, willing dick at her disposal.
She’d give into the lust. Give into the pleasure. But she’d give over nothing to a man. He’d be here all night—and the rest of the year, for that matter—if he longed for that.
Marcel sucked her other nipple between his lips, scraped it with his teeth, then bit into it. She moaned as her breasts swelled. “Aaaaaah, yes…yesssss…”
It killed him not to be inside her, but he knew what her body needed. He wanted to hear her say it. Wanted to hear her cry out for it. He pushed a thick finger inside her. Then two. Then three.
She became unbelievably wet. And hot. Her heat burned into his hand, singed down his forearm, then surged over his stomach, before settling around his balls. His dick ached for her fire.
