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“Sit.”
She covers her face in embarrassment, “Nash.”
“Fucking sit or I’ll tie you up and edge you until the sun rises.”
Ivy narrows her eyes in confusion, “Edge?”
“When I get you close to coming but stop just before you come. Then begin again. Over and over again. Now fucking sit that pretty pussy on my face.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
IVY
When I lower down onto his face I ask, “Where do I put my hands?”
He chuckles, “Put them on your beautiful tits.”
Nash grabs my hips and pulls me even closer to his face and licks, nips, and sucks at my clit, causing me to writhe all over his face.
“Play with your tits,” he growls.
I cup both breasts, unsure what I’m supposed to do, “Twist and pull your nipples.”
At first, I feel stupid until I gaze down and notice the intense heat in his eyes. I’ll do anything to keep him looking at me that way.
He flips me over flat on my back, grabs pillows, and puts them under my ass, I gape at him in shock, and he flashes me the most sinful smile I think I’ve ever seen.
“I need to fuck you. I need to fuck you now.”
Nash gets between my now spread thighs, on one knee, his right foot on the bed, “This is going to be hard, Princess. Legs on my shoulders.”
No sooner do I move my legs, he thrusts his big cock inside me, and I yelp in surprise.
Grabbing the top of my thighs, he holds onto me while he fucks me. My tits bounce with every slam into me, and I love the way he watches my entire body, never missing a beat. The sound of our skin meeting echoes in the room. His heavy breathing is a sound I never want to forget. Perspiration covers his forehead and his chest. Nash is so sexy, he looks like a damn cologne commercial.
“Who fucks this pussy other than me, Princess?”
“Nobody.”
Nash slams even harder into me, “That’s right. You’re mine, baby. Only mine.”
I nod, and he growls, “Fucking say it.”
“I’m yours!” I scream as my orgasm hits me suddenly.
“Good girl. Fuck. Such a good girl.”
He groans loudly and the way he sounds makes me moan.
As usual, he pulls out of me and gets a washcloth to clean me. I don’t dare complain or roll my eyes because my ass is sore. As much as I enjoyed it, I don't think I could handle it again so soon.
After he comes back from the bathroom, he leans over me and growls, “Good girl.”
Why does that make me melt every time he says it?
“What?” He asks as he climbs into bed beside me.
I’m sure I’m blushing, but I say, “I don’t know why I like it so much when you say that.”
