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Her skin was like silk as I gripped her hips, her skin warm and fragrant.
She began to writhe on my lap, her pussy rubbing right over my dick.
Fuck was she responsive.
“Look at you. So fucking perfect.”
Her lipstick was smeared, her hair tousled. Her bra was askew, and her tits were lifted with hard little tips all red and shiny from my mouth.
She rolled her hips again.
I lifted my head, took in her blue eyes, blurry with need. “Got a needy pussy? You are a bad girl rubbing it all over my dick.”
“Oh my God. You’re a dirty talker.” She said it like it was a revelation. That it was something she liked and never got before.
I shifted my hips and fell back so I laid sideways on the couch with her still over me. I stroked her hips, her waist, cupped her tits, then moved back down.
“I know a way you can get me to stop talking. Sit on my face, sugar.”
25
LINDY
* * *
“Wha–”
Without any effort, Dex lifted me up and over his face.
OVER. HIS. FACE.
He might call me a bad girl, but I’d never done this.
My knees settled on either side of his head, but I sat back on his chest because this was a whole new level of naughty.
“Sit on my face,” he repeated.
“Holy shit, Dex, I’ve never done that before. Ever.”
Dex, sprawled on the couch, dressed, was hot as hell. His chest was so broad my knees barely touched the couch. His hair was tousled, his eyes hooded. The way he moved me, his strength was obvious, but his touch was gentle. Reverent even, which was odd considering this… encounter was far from sweet.
There were no rose petals or champagne. Not even a bed. We’d barely made it ten feet in the door because he wanted me that much.
Why was I pausing? Why was I even thinking right now?
“I love that you’re just bad for me,” he said, his voice somehow deeper than usual. “Sugar, if you don’t–”
No, I did. I wasn’t going to hold back now. I couldn’t. Like Aspen said, I owed it to women everywhere.
No. Forget that. I owed it to myself. Dex wanted me. Wanted me to sit on his face.
So I was going to sit on his gorgeous face.
I lifted up onto my knees and looked straight down at him. My bra was tucked under my breasts, and I looked at him past my hard nipples.
“You’re right. You need to stop talking.”
Setting my hands on the arm of the couch above his head, I shifted forward and then did as he requested.
