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“Don’t call me that.”
I twist a kiss onto his lips, then pull back, taking his lip partway with me to eye him tauntingly, “Or what?”
Greyson’s hands settle on my ass, then pull back—“Or I’ll do this”—and spank me. “Or this.” They knead the fat there.
I groan into the side of his face. God, it feels good.
Our fingers entwine as our bodies move together, rub together, flow as one. Our lips can’t get enough of each other—kisses last several minutes, even every slight pause seems unbearable. His fingers drawing away to skate under my top is only part of the kiss. Part of the onward flow that’s impossible to stop or even slow.
Another kiss—and his fingers lightly trace the outlines of my bra.
Another kiss—and his fingers press into my bra harder.
Another kiss—and his fingers smear my bra into my breasts, and the pleasure is so intense that I groan again.
He growls with pleasure. “That’s it.”
The next kiss, he rips off my shirt, then my bra, his fingers delighting in the softness of my breasts. His stroking touch has me moaning again as he lowers his lips to my breasts.
My fingers grab hold of his hair as he kisses circles around my nipple, using the slightest touch of teeth, until he lands on my nipple and sucks it.
My crotch is thrashing into his, feeling his hard-on. I’m aching for him.
As his lips move to my other breast, we scramble to undo his pants, half-laughing half-panting as we fumble with the button then the zipper. He bites down on my breast and I cry out. Once again, pain slaps pleasure to new heights.
Next thing I know, his hard-on is closer than ever before as my pussy rubs against him.
My hands go to both sides of his face as we kiss. His fingers press into the wet spot on my panties, directly onto my clit.
He smirks at how I’m practically panting now. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I groan.
We kiss the rest of our clothes off, our bodies clasping and re-clasping, his cock easing into me further and further until—he shoves himself inside of me and I gasp, pleasure rocketing through me.
“It feels so… fucking good,” I moan.
“Fucking good,” he groans back, flexing in me.
For a good minute, neither of us move, enjoying just how tight he is inside of me.
Then, he slams his lips onto me and pulls himself partway out again. At first, Greyson fucks me slow and sensually, every penetration a mini-ecstasy. I come once, but Greyson’s hard-on is as rock-solid as ever. Slowly, he builds his pace, in and out, hard and harder, fast and faster, until out bodies are slamming together and I can’t think of anything but more, more, more—I need it—I need it.
And I’m screaming into his palm: “More—fuck me—yes—more—please—ugh—yes!”
And I’m coming over and over again, as he spills into me, and our bodies spasm together.
Afterwards, I tremble I don’t know how long. After that: warmth, the soothing up and down of his chest, silence.Chapter 7Greyson
I wake up hard. Still tired, too, and dreaming.
No way in hell can this be real. In the golden light of the sunrise, in my arms, Harley is nothing short of a goddess. Her lightly freckled toned curves are perfection, while her slightly parted lips are just begging for a kiss.
I give it to her.
It really is a dream, because her eyes flutter half-open and she murmurs, “More?”
I slip right inside her.
Our bodies move together in sleepy memory. Utter rightness. Still half-asleep, we kiss our way from one position to the next: her on top, breasts jiggling gorgeously as she rides me, me behind her, the view of her ass exquisite as I ram her doggy-style. When she comes, I hold her tightly, enjoying all her little groans and shaking, then I fuck her some more. I come once, yet my hard-on springs back up almost immediately.
She’s that sexy, and I guess this is a dream, after all. She has the softest skin imaginable, and some kind of fruity scent that somehow makes me hornier. As we hold and fuck each other, I lose track of how many times either of us comes; the only passage of time is the movement of the sun in the sky.
Until a caw makes me look up. I gape at a toucan, peering at us jauntily, its colorful beak open in a laugh. I’m about to yell at it and shoo it away when I hear Harley laugh. Catching her merry eye, I can’t help but crack up too.
That’s when it hits me.
“This isn’t a dream.”
“No?” Harley rises and stretches, offering me a magnificent view of her fine ass. “I think it is, in a manner of speaking.”
In a manner of speaking…
Still dazed, I watch her put on her clothes. She doesn’t rush it, only smirks at me every so often, as if enjoying how I can’t bear to peel my gaze away.
