Page 127 of The Perfect Wrong


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Her arms and legs pinch so tight it’s like she’s part of me now.

I’ll never know how I stop myself from blowing inside her right then, but I do.

I feel the pulse roaring in her veins from her pussy convulsing on my cock.

I hear every frantic moan and muffled scream on her lips, spilling into the open night.

Let. It. The. Fuck. Out.

And she does.

She comes so sweetly I fuck right through her first orgasm, so hard she arches and comes for a gasping eternity.

Together, we plow through it.

She’s panting like a cat in heat, coming down from the high, her mouth hanging open.

Then my mouth eclipses hers and I pull her hair tighter, thrusting deeper, more greedy for this than any time I’ve ever fucked in my life.

I’m afraid I’ll bruise her, but I can’t stop.

Not now.

Not tonight.

In a better life, notever.

She pushes herself against me just as desperately, all the worries and passions and future agonies buried in our rhythm.

Her tits swing like soft round pendulums on her chest, inviting me to maul her.

Feeling her pert nipples grazing my chest does me in.

“Damn it, Delia, do you know what you do?” I rasp. “Love every inch of you. Love the way you make me come. I fucking love you.”

Shit!

What the hell did I just say?

Evidently, she can’t believe it either, judging by the startled look that’s not just pleasure flaring in her eyes.

Still, it can’t stop the imminent explosion ripping through my balls, sure to set her off all over again.

My vision blurs, turning the Vegas lights reflected in the glass into hot pinpricks of stars.

Fire slashes through me as my cock stabs deep and levels out.

Every part of me splits, burns, breaks.

I am inferno.

All fire.

All smoke.

All seething flesh made for one purpose, hurling my seed deep inside her.

I fill her pussy up with a guttural roar until she overflows around my dick.

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