Page 802 of Deep Pockets


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Fuck. If he sees my slickness on those balls, I’ll die.

“Close your eyes!” I shout. “And please don’t ask why.”

“Done.” The word sounds like a grunt.

Good.

Without turning off his vibration, I stash Precious into my purse and sprint over to where the balls stopped—four feet in front of Vlad.

Giving him his privacy, I resist the strong urge to peek at Dracula as I bend to pick up the balls.

The darn things slip through my fingers and roll away.

Since it’s hard to not look at his junk and chase them this way, I drop on all fours and chase after the toy like a predator hunting her prey.

Finally.

I grab the balls.

Nope.

They slip out of my grasp once more.

Did I have to lube them up so well?

Knees beginning to hurt, I crawl to where they stopped.

Yes! I snatch them and manage to keep a grip.

Then I see the legs in front of me.

I look up.

Yep.

I’m head to head with Dracula.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wow.

I’m a tiny mouse in front of an anaconda.

This is how Mowgli must’ve felt when he first met Kaa.

Clutching onto my balls for dear life, I gulp down the gallon of saliva that my salivary glands suddenly spurt into my mouth.

Did I mention wow?

Dracula is beautiful in his engorged hugeness. Noticeably bigger than even Glurp, he might not fit in me, though it might be fun to try.

The ring squeezes and vibrates Dracula near the base, somehow accentuating the already-awesome sight.

Somewhere above me, Vlad grunts in pleasure.

Fuck. I forgot they’re attached.

I start to back away—just as a white, creamy liquid shoots out of Dracula and lands on my cheek.

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