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About Lola. About this betrayal.
“Well,” she murmurs.
“Well?”
She shrugs, twisting hair around her finger, looking so youthful and curvy and sexy I’m leaking even more precome, my pants as slick with it as her panties are with her desire.
“I don’t want photos. But what you said about, um, what you’d do with the photos….”
“Yeah?”
My hand twitches, telling me to grab my cock as I stare at her.
“Maybe we could do that… without the camera? I mean, if you want it. I want to…help if I can.”
It takes me a moment to realize what my woman’s hinting at.
She’s saying she’s going to pose naked for me as I stroke my hand up and down my fat, heaving dick.
“Yeah,” I snarl, turning off my camera and gently placing it on the floor. “Let’s do that. Fuck. Take off your clothes, Faye.”
“Just….”
“What?” I snap when her hand pauses on her bra.
My mouth is actually watering. I need to feast on the wetness between her legs.
“Do you really think I’m pretty?” she asks. “This is real. Not a trick or a joke or something.”
“It’s real,” I growl. “Do you want to see?”
Her eyes widen, endearingly volatile like she’s constantly existing between giving in to her want and doubting it.
“S-see?” she stammers.
I smirk. “You know what I’m saying.”
She nods. “Then yes. I want to. Oh, Felix.”
It’s the oh which gets me, which makes it impossible to keep this charade going, standing over here like her body isn’t right fucking there, tempting me.
Surging forward, I wrap my arms around her, finally giving in to the urge to squeeze down on her hips.
She gasps as I pull her toward me.
My hands slide around to her ass. I indulgently start massaging her as I guide my lips to hers.
I expect there to be some hesitation when I kiss her, but she must be as filled with this possessive fire as I am. She moans through the closeness of our lips, her hands rising to my shoulders. She digs her fingernails in as I groan, pushing closer, driving my manhood against her belly.
She whimpers when I push her cheeks together.
I could indulge in massaging these for hours endlessly, rubbing her, pleasing her, and making her whimper in that hot-as-fuck way. She moves her hands down my arms, gripping on, squeezing so hard I can feel her fingernails going through the fabric of my shirt into my firm muscles.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, breaking off the kiss. “Felix….”
“You taste so fucking perfect,” I growl, kissing her again.
She squeals and giggles through the kiss – our teeth clicking in the chaotic passion as I lift her off her feet.
