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I push her leg aside, panting, almost roaring. My cock aches so badly. I’m ready to erupt. I’m ready to tear off her clothes and drive my dick into her tight body. I’m leaking so much precome just thinking about it.
She reaches down and places her hand on my wrist, stopping me.
“What’s wrong?” I growl.
“We have to be quiet,” she whispers.
“Then bite a goddamn pillow. I need to feel your tight pussy.”
A shiver moves through her. I was right. It’s hot as hell when I’m touching her. I can feel her lust talking to me, like her body is telling me how eager she is. I move my hand up her leg, squeezing onto her thigh, getting closer to her core.
I almost come in my pants when she actually grabs a pillow, clasping it to her chest like she’s getting ready to bite it. My seed pushes against my tip, trying to burst out. She’s so. Damn. Hot.
Finally, I push my hand against her sex, pressing firmly against her slit. I can feel her wetness, her heat. There’s no doubt she wants this now. Her keen body is fucking soaked for me.
When I grab her pants, meaning to pull them down, she moans and grabs my wrist again. I growl, tugging firmer, letting the beast take over for a second. But no, that’s not true. If I truly allowed the hunger in me to dominate completely, I’d tear off her pants, climb onto the bed, push deep and hard, and start fucking her like a madman right away.
She squeezes my wrist. “Elio,” she whispers. “Not, uh, under the pants…”
I bite down and almost snap at her. Then I check that instinct. That would make me a needy, pathetic crybaby. I’m not going to force my woman into giving herself to me. We’ve got plenty of time for that, though my shaft is throbbing with the hunger.
Leaning forward, I kiss her again. I’ll never tire of her taste or how she returns the pressure. She’s nervous and then passionate and then nervous again. When I push my hand against her sex, she gasps, ending the kiss. She grabs the pillow and gets ready to bite it again.
I rub her slowly at first. When she bites down on the pillow, I move faster, feeling her warmth, wetness, and need. She stares at me with those wide, shocked eyes. It’s like she’s never done this before. I can’t let myself think that, wonder about that. If she’s never touched another man…
I’d lose it. I’d strip her naked. I’d bend her over and spank her thick ass as she bounced up and down on me. Nothing could stop me from claiming her.
Her moans get louder, even with the pillow to block them. I’m pumping my arm now. I can feel her folds. The fabric is so thin. I can feel the shape of them, engorged like they’re filled with lust.
Faster, with more hunger, I rub my woman until she starts shaking like a soda bottle about to burst. All the lust is going to erupt out of her. More precome leaks out of me, making my underwear slick with it. She’s moaning urgently into the pillow, rocking back and forth, her legs bucking. It’s like she’s never felt pleasure like this before.
I feel her get even wetter when the orgasm releases. She squeezes her legs around my hand, my eager woman, like she wants to trap me there. Finally, she lets the pillow drop, breathing rapidly as if she’s just emerged from the water and was drowning in her lust.
Kissing her again, I move to a sitting position on the bed. Then I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my lap. She moans as I drive my manhood against her ass. She’s so damn thick that it’s making me feral. She moans, sliding her hands up my arms and pressing down on my shoulders.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers.
“Believe it,” I groan. “Now—”
Get on your knees. Show me those perfect tits. Get ready to take my seed.
Before I can say anything, there’s a banging noise from next door.
Scarlet springs up from my lap. “Mom?” She leaves the room quickly.
I follow her. Scarlet runs into the room to the bed. Then she turns to me with tears in her eyes.
CHAPTER9
Scarlet
I turn back to the bed in case I’ve somehow missed something. Mom left her lamp on. Maybe so she could see as she arranged her pillows to make it look like she was sleeping. When I came home, I checked on her, saw the pillows, and assumed she was asleep.
The crashing noise came from a book she left on the bedside table, balanced precariously. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t even know she’s missing right now.
Elio walks up beside me, dark and handsome in his black T-shirt, silver-streaked hair catching the light, his muscles firm, and… And what thehellam I thinking? Dad’s gone. Mom’s gone. Despite that, I can’t stop thinking about Elio’s muscles.
“There’s a note,” Elio says, kneeling down next to the book. He stands, holding up a small piece of paper. He’s about to read it. Then he pauses and hands it to me.
