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“Greedy girl,” I mutter when she leans back, bearing her weight on her palms. I’d swear she wiggles a little. Enticing me. “Spread them wider. I want to see all of you.”
She’s pink and shining, her clit peeking out from beneath its hood. The lives I would destroy if it meant ownership of this pussy. The worlds I would burn to the ground. “Such a pretty pussy. Is it going to soak my face?”
“Only if you eat it right.” A devilish grin flashes over her angelic face, glowing in the light from the tree. She’s an angel. A naughty little angel, driving me wild with the sight and scent of her.
“I suppose I’ll have to do my best.” I lower myself to my knees, now at eye level with her pulsing hole. Every tremor of those muscles sends fresh juice oozing from her, running down her crack and already soaking into the tablecloth beneath her. I’m almost jealous of a tablecloth, catching what my tongue so desperately craves.
I’ll be damned if I let another drop go to waste.
“Oh… yes…” The throb of gratitude in her voice makes me want to give her so much more than a simple lap over her seam. She thinks that’s good? I bury my face in her in reply, driving my tongue deep inside her pulsing tunnel, digging out her sweet cream. Greedy, hungry, and driven onward by every deep moan.
"Give me more," I urge, only lifting my mouth from her long enough to growl those three syllables before plunging down once again. Feasting like the starving man I am. Starved for so long—of taste, of touch, of the satisfaction that only comes from giving.
Not typically the sort of giving one thinks of at this time of year, but it’s a potent form of generosity just the same.
No one has ever been as worthy as the woman now writhing beneath me, gripping the edge of the table like she’s afraid she’ll fall off. A perfect angel. My angel, coming undone a little at a time. All thanks to me.
“Warren… oh, my God, yes…”
“Talk to me.” The two digits I slide into her wet heat make her back arch enticingly, tits thrust into the air. “Tell me how it feels.”
When I wrap my lips around her little clit, she nearly howls. “Oh, yes! So good. Suck it. Use your tongue.”
Holy fuck, I need to get a recording of her. It’s one thing to think about her and remember how good it is, how she tastes and smells and feels. But nothing in this world could’ve prepared me for the way she sounds when she talks like this.
I do as I’m told, flicking the tip with my tongue while sucking as hard as I dare. Her hips buck wildly—I’m lucky I don’t end up with a broken nose—but I manage to hold on while my cock drips enough to spread a wet spot across the front of my pants. I need to bury myself in her, but only once she’s come. So she’s rippling and pulsing once I drive in deep.
“Warren… Warren…” she nearly sobs. “Fuck me. Harder. I’m gonna come…!”
And then she does, letting out a high-pitched howl that rolls through me like a shock wave. The pride it inspires is like nothing I’ve ever known. The ability to tear her apart this way… it makes me feel like a king. Or at least like a lucky son of a bitch.
A lucky son of a bitch who waits until she’s no longer screaming before withdrawing my fingers and inserting them into my mouth to savor every last bit. She opens her eyes, which widen in obvious pleasure at the sight of me enjoying her. “I taste that good to you?” she finally whispers, still breathless and dazed.
“You are the sweetest thing that’s ever crossed my tongue.” I stand, working my belt and fly with trembling hands, my eyes glued to her pussy. “I’ll never get enough.”
We both gasp when I drag my head through her slit. Now she sits up partway, looking down, watching as I do. I don’t think either of us is breathing, both transfixed by the sight of my bulging head gliding through her wet folds.
Then I disappear, plunging inside where she’s still quivering. Her head falls back, mouth open, eyes closed. I reach out and yank down the top of her dress, leaving her full tits on display. Every deep thrust makes them bounce and holy shit, there’s never been anyone or anything hotter than she is right now. Lost in abandon, using and being used.
And milking my cock like both our lives depend on it.
With my arms around her thighs, I hold her still, close to me, driving myself into her again… again… shaking the table and everything on it. She cries out every time our bodies crash together, and that makes me move faster, makes me more determined to feel those muscles crush me as she comes.What a way to go.
“Who do you belong to?” I close a hand around her throat, and her body goes still for a moment before she responds by jerking her hips. Silently urging me to give her more. “Tell me.”
“You!” she manages to groan. “Only you!”
That’s right. Only me. Only ever me. Mine to taste, to touch, to fuck, to claim.
To love.
Yes, I love her. I love this hot, gorgeous, precious woman. Legs spread, tits bouncing, red-faced thanks to my hand clutching her throat but moving harder and faster, too, because she wants it. Because she is perfection.
I lose my rhythm toward the end, now eager to fill her with my cum, the silverware jangling in discordant music that blends with our mixed cries until she clamps down on me and my balls fairly burst, rope after rope of cum shooting out of me and into her. It’s dizzying, it’s ecstasy, it’s everything. I have everything in the world, here and now, buried balls-deep inside this woman.
“I love you,” I pant, falling against her when it’s over. “I love you, Winter.”
Her eyes are shining when I finally lift my head. “I love you, too,” she whispers, shy suddenly. I might find it funny if it didn’t feel like she just gave me the greatest Christmas gift imaginable.
