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It could be the one line that changes everything. The sentence that triggers the psycho alert in her fragile, still an adolescent mind.
But I’ve good reason to relax. She leans back into me harder. Nodding her head. “I understand…” She whispers.
“I’m- I’m sorry, Ezekiel…”
“Don't be sorry.” I correct her, “…just come to me… for everything from now on.”
Aware of her breath that’s heaving as hard as her chest can move, rising and falling against the thick striations of muscle in my arms, I’m not ashamed to say I’m struggling myself.
Struggling against the urge to take her, right here on the fucking dining room table. Zero fucks given if anyone hears or sees.
But that’s the animal in me.
The man in me wants her all to myself. Not another living soul’s ever gonna see what she has under this dress. It’s all mine now.
That thought alone, the very idea is enough to make me breathless. The pair of us panting like runners and we haven’t even done anything. Yet.
“You mad at me?” She asks, turning to look at me, pouting with those eyes. Those clear, dangerously deep blue eyes that look like a void there’s so much of her black arousal inside them.
“Just… Be mine.” I rasp. Watching her eyes close when I shift one of my hands. Sliding up the hem of her dress and shamelessly planting my whole Palm over her sodden cleft.
The touch of her wetness makes me grunt, and her own body tenses as she stifles a squeak. Her legs opening wider for me by instinct and in another second my thick finger has the edge of her drenched panties pulled to one side. Already probing her quivering hole.
“Fuck…” I gasp. Shaking my head.
I’ve never been so hard. Never needed to be inside someone so bad.
Eve’s strained whimper is desperate.
Not to have me stop, but to keep going. Deeper and harder into her tiny slick little fuck hole. Her insanely tight opening yields all it can to the thickness of my digit. But it’s clear she needs a lot more work down there before she’ll be able to take my cock.
Her hands shoot out in front of her body, gripping the edge of the thick wood of the table. The tinkle of glasses and silverware jolting as she starts to buck and grind against me. The whine of her desire only matched by the free flowing essence from her sweet cunt, finally where it belongs.
“You haven’t even opened your gifts…” I murmur, struggling to keep my voice even but determined to show her that I can be in control of every part of her. Everything she lives and breaths from now on.
“I- Only want this… I only want you, Ezekie- Ahhhhlll!” She gasps, both of us feeling the tight barrier of her hymen flexing against my stiff finger. Her engorged pussy pulsing and quivering. Greedily swallowing my finger until my thumb starts to press firm circles around her swollen clit.
Making her lose all control. And making me struggle for some of my own. My cock jerking itself as it spasms against the tightness of my pants. My grunting breaths hot against her milky neck, tasting my own seed mixed with her sweet scent from the lotion.
Her whining gasps become guttural growls. The frustration of being clothed as well as a virgin showing.
“I- I want this…” She hisses, reaching a hand of her own around to my front. Making me groan loudly when she starts to press my swollen organ, hungrily searching with her hands for my helm which she squeezes hard. A hot torrent of my own essence flowing for her to match her own incredible wetness.
The sounds we’re making are far from quiet, but with both our sense in overdrive we both hear the approach of Grosvenor the butler.
Eve grunts in anger at the coming interruption. Both of us sick of other people, only wanting it to be us, forever from now on.
But keeping her right where she is, I swiftly adjust her bunched up dress to cover her milky thighs. Shifting us both in the chair so it would only look like her sitting in my lap as she-
As she what? Gets a right royal fingering from her step brother?
No.
“Open your gift…” I groan, coaxing her attention to the box on the table.
“What do you think I'm trying to do-?” is her sassy reply. Even finding humor in the seconds before we’re most likely to get caught.
But really, I don’t think either of us care anymore.
