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Lucy
Cool brisk airfans across the wetness between my thighs, the moisture seeping out of my pussy. My body is tense in anticipation, almost humming with it.
This may not have been the way I saw this weekend going, but I’m not about to balk now. The anger at what Malcom did still coats my veins, and I can’t wait to lash into him for it. But right now... right now, I don’t want to think about Malcom at all. Especially not when his father steps up behind me, running a hand down my spine.
The only thing I want to think about is Weston and that glorious cock I felt in his jeans.
“I’m going to fuck you, Little Dove.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.Please. I would beg. Quite literally beg if that’s what he wanted. What he demanded. Anything as long as he fills me.
I’m so focused on my own thoughts I don’t realize he’s gone silent behind me. I almost turn, almost pull my hands from the trunk of that blasted tree and peer over my shoulder to see him.
Then I feel it.
I feelhim.
His rough beard grazes the back of my thighs moments, mere moments, before his tongue trails through the slit of my pussy. My knees threaten to buckle. Only sheer will is keeping them locked in place, refusing to fall. He pulls back a fraction and his lips press to my clit, then his magnificent, perfect tongue runs along the slit again.
“Mmm. You taste like heaven.”
I don’t bother asking what heaven tastes like. Not when his tongue presses to my clit and flicks. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Like honeysuckles and the night sky.” His words rumble against my sensitive flesh. I bite back a gasp. Barely.
And then he consumes me.
It takes every ounce of strength to hold myself up and not let go of the tree. It’s my lifeline, the only thing anchoring me to this earth as his mouth latches onto my pussy. His lips are soft, feathery soft across my clit when he kisses it.
Lick. Kiss. Lick. Kiss.
His lips close over that sensitive nub and suckle it into his warm, wet mouth. I am floating, careening across the sky, chasing stars as they plummet down, down, down to the earth. My whole body tightens. Ripples.
It starts low in my spine and spreads across my navel. Building. Building. Building.
Crashing.
I’m a shooting star. And finally, after eighteen years of existence, I understand why those stars choose to fly.
My breath is rasping out of my lungs, my legs shaking with the ferocity of the orgasm that rips through me. Never in my life have I felt anything like this. I didn’t even know it was possible. Distantly, I wonder if this is how Elisa felt with Malcom between her legs, deciding I really don’t care.
I can’t.
Not when Weston is standing behind me, pressing something hard between my thighs.
One glance over my shoulder, and I know what it is. Moments ago, I wanted to beg for it. Looking at it now, I don’t know how the hell it will fit. He runs the length of his cock through the slit of my pussy, coating the shaft with my juices. Back and forth, over and over, while those tremors fade and that intense flame starts kindling again.
“Did that feel good, Little Dove?”
I moan my yes.
He slides his cock along my slit again then slaps my ass, causing a sharp sting to spread across my cheek.
“I asked you a question,” he growls, gently caressing the spot he smacked. I glance over my shoulder again, my eyes meeting his, and grin. His gaze narrows, and his palm slaps my other cheek. Heat floods my face, embarrassment staining it. No, this is something else entirely. Something I don’t have a name for yet. He tracks the rose flush with his perceptive gaze as surprise followed quickly with pleasure flits across his face.
“You like that, don’t you?” he says, slapping a palm to my ass again. “Oh, Little Dove, we’re going to have so much fun.”
I don’t bother replying. My voice wouldn’t work even if I wanted it to. He presses the head of his cock against the entrance to my pussy and slowly pushes in. I brace for pain, knowing it will come. God knows, I’ve read enough books to know the first time always hurts like a bitch.
