Page 50 of Own

His tongue dragging across my swollen bundle of nerves and tortures me with hard strokes. The vibrations pick up, a pulsing rhythm that makes me cry out when I circle my entrance. From hole to clit, I spread my juices as I remember just how he touched me that day.

Ivan wasn’t tentative or slow, and petting me wasn’t enough. No.

He slowly lowered to his knees as his hands pushed down the unbuttoned cutoffs I’d put on after exiting the water. They didn’t made it past my knees before his warm breath was teasing my flesh. I never got to fill my lungs with air before his tongue dipped over my clit and then my folds, those same strong hands yanking me against his mouth while the waves crashed behind me.

We were in our own little world and the darkness covered anyone from seeing how I was his at that moment.

“Fuck, bebe. So fucking sweet.” That groan reverberated through me, vibrating against where I was most sensitive, and my body rewarded him with a rush of wetness. And the moment it coated his senses, I’m raised off the floor by two hands on my hips that forced me to ride his tongue.

“Oh, God,” I moan as the silicone enters me, bottoming out while the air suction attaches to my throbbing clit. That’s as far as I get while the air in my lungs gets trapped. In my mind it’s his fingers inside me, two thick and unrelenting fingers thrusting, while his lips suck and nip at me. Sweat mists over my shaking form, a few drops rolling down my flesh and I arch, body strung tight.

I’m so close. It hurts.

But then I hear him as if he were here. Right next to me, that gravelly tone borders on a growl that’s his tell before he fills me with his release.

“Come for me, bebe.”

“Papi.” It’s a scream, my entire frame wrought tight a second before pleasure consumes me, and I let it. The torturous wave slams into me, and I don’t know what’s real or fake or even if this is all a dream, but it doesn’t matter either way.

Not when a second later I let the vibrator fall and I’m languid. So spent I don’t turn the toy off and simply kick it toward the end of the bed where it will eventually die off.

All I can do is melt into my mattress and close my eyes.

Yet the last thing I hear before succumbing brings a smile to my face.

“I’ll be home soon.”

17

ROPES OF COME coat my hand and stomach, the proof of my inability to stop thinking of a woman I love more than rationality dictates. Maybe it’s a sickness. An obsession.

I could give less than a fuck either way.

And the evidence of that is how I continue to stroke my cock as her breathing evens. How I wring out another spurt of my release while she sighs in contentment, body stretched out in her bed. Those sheets smell of her—a sweetness I crave more than anything in this world.

Again, my fist tightens and my eyes close. Another bead drops. It rolls down my fingers as I stroke up and then over then sensitive head when I hear her murmur Ivan in her sleep.

A shuddering breath escapes my lungs and my cock jerks, the near painful throb coming from the dissatisfaction of not being there. With her. Keeping my little mermaid cuddled close and warm.

“I’ll be home soon.” Gazing at her once again, I touch the keypad of my laptop and turn off the mic. She’s mirrored on a large screen inside the penthouse suite of a hotel room in Atlanta after my short flight here, having connected the device to the TV from a remote private server.

The accommodations are large, ostentatious for the few short hours I’ll be here, and not too far from the strip club where my enemy snorts his way through endless amounts of cocaine.

My job here is simple: grab and escort back home.

Nothing else. No more than a couple hours of sleep, yet the moment I open my camera inside her room—watching on the screen as she pleasures herself—that resolve always hanging by a thin thread whenever she’s concerned snaps.

It’s why I couldn’t resist and let her hear me.

I needed to be the reason she came.

Yet my sirenita destroyed me. Hearing her say papi in that whiny tone, one that drives me crazy right before reaching her peak, is my kryptonite.

“Always mine.” A ringtone blaring pulls my attention from the TV and I look over, finding Israel’s phone number on the screen. He’s stationed outside the club, monitoring who enters and who leaves. With my clean hand, I press the green button while ignoring a text from my father, then hit the speaker option. “Talk to me.”

“He’s here and not alone. There’s a brunette with him and a man, one I’ve never seen before.”

“Silvio?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com