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“Oh fuck, Sadie. I love a bare pussy.” He was like a man possessed as he shoved at my chest and lifted my skirt, staring at my pussy like the Hope diamond was stuck to it. Then, he looked up with a dark and greedy look on his face.
“Be as loud as you want. I don’t mind.” Then his mouth was on my pussy, and the sensation was even better than that first kiss.
It was hotter, the feel of his lips and tongue on me, the eager way he lapped at my juices. I didn’t know how to react as real pleasure coursed through my veins against my will, but Owen licked and sucked like he was born to do it. He fucked me with his tongue and sucked me so hard it sent fireworks shooting off behind my eyes.
“Yes!” The word fell from my lips accidentally, but I meant them. This pleasure wasn’t like the reluctant orgasm from last year. This was real. It was true.
It was genuine.
And it felt so damn good.
“Owen, more. Please.” That word granted me exactly what I wished for, more of his hot mouth and thick tongue French kissing my pussy like I was his first crush. I didn’t want to feel this kind of pleasure, not with him, but I did.
The feeling took over my body until every inch of me vibrated. I wrapped my legs around his neck and watched Owen, eyes closed, eat me up like Thanksgiving dinner. It was hotter than I could have ever imagined, watching his mouth devour my privates. “Oh, yes!” I fell back, breathless and smiling as the orgasm shot out of every pore.
Owen sat up on his knees with a smug smile. “I don’t know what got me harder, your cries of pleasure or how you begged me for more.”
It was the begging, definitely the begging. “Why choose?” I spread my legs a little wider and arched a brow.
“Fuck me, I can’t wait.” He unfastened his pants and stroked his cock, eyes never leaving mine. “I need to fuck you now, Sadie.”
I’ll just bet he did. “I have a better idea.” My heart beat steadily as I pushed him onto his back and took Owen’s cock in my hand, stroking him, slow at first and then faster and faster.
“Yeah,” he grunted and let his head fall back. This moment would have been perfect but it wasn’t how I planned it and I needed to stick to the plan.
“Oh fuck, Sadie,” he growled, and his hips bucked forward when I wrapped my lips around his manhood and sucked.
I took it slow and deep while he growled his pleasure, the sound echoing off the creek. I tickled and squeezed his balls as he began to pump into my mouth, faster and faster, nearly choking me. His thigh muscles tightened, and Owen grabbed my hair and yanked me back. “What?”
“Your pussy. Now.”
I lifted one leg and straddled his hips, slowly impaling myself on his cock. “This pussy?”
He nodded, jaws clenched as he tried to ward off his impending orgasms. “Tight. Wet. Pussy.”
My pussy was still sensitive from the earlier orgasm, and the feel of his cock against my inner walls made me shiver with pleasure. I didn’t like how I felt, fucking my enemy and enjoying it.
Was this the thing that worried Mom every time I walked out the door? The power of ecstasy, which could make me do things I shouldn’t, enjoy things I shouldn’t. “Owen,” I growled and moved faster up and down his cock.
He gripped my hips tight and pumped up into me as I slammed down on his cock, sending him deeper and deeper. “Fuck yeah, babe. Just like that.”
I fucked him like it was my job, enjoying it but paying close attention for the perfect moment. It came soon enough. Owen’s skin flushed pink and sweat beads popped out on his forehead. He was close.
I was ready.
I leaned back, and the change in position sent his cock deeper, shocking a satisfied gasp out of me, momentarily distracting me from the next step. As I got used to the pleasure, I got back on track and reached under the blanket.
“Babe, I’m about to come,” he growled, lips twisted in erotic agony.
“Enjoy it because it’ll be your last.” I waited until my words sank in and those dreamy green eyes looked up at me and prayed for forgiveness as I plunged the knife deep into his chest.
Again and again and again.
With every plunge, his body jerked, and his cock thickened inside me. Somewhere around the eleventh, or maybe it was the thirteenth strike, Owen’s body convulsed with orgasm, and I stole it from him. Stabbing him over and over, not stopping until I counted forty-seven gashes into his stomach and chest and throat.
His last breath triggered an aftershock that scared the hell out of me, and I rolled off of him, looked down at the blood that coated both of our bodies and the blanket. It was stickier than I’d imagined, but I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t worried.
I wasn’t deterred.
