Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“I-I don’t know.”
For a moment, my rational brain tries to break in. Slow my roll. Remind me that this isn’t the time or the place. But her pussy clenching around my fingers and the flush in her cheeks brings me back to the only thing I care about—seeing this thing through.
“You need me to alleviate the ache down here?”
I stop moving, waiting for her consent. We’re both breathing hard, our faces just an inch apart. She holds my gaze and gives a tiny nod, just before she attacks me with another kiss.
I go nuts on her.
I’ve never had a female as the aggressor before, and it fucking drives me wild. I shove my fingers deep inside her again and squeeze her ass with my other hand. She moans and whimpers her pleasure, squirming against me, her lips still pulling on mine, tongue lashing into my mouth.
I screw a third finger inside her, prepping her for what’s to come. I don’t mean to be so raw and dirty, but my body moves of its own accord. My other hand strokes between her ass cheeks, seeking the tight bud of her anus.
She cries out in surprise when I find it, contracting and falling against me.
I push her back against the wall and finger-fuck her with my left hand while my right alternates between rubbing her anus and squeezing her plump asscheeks.
Her pink Converse shuffle and dance beneath her. My dick isn’t even out, but I experience her pleasure as my own. It’s been a long time, but I don’t remember ever having a girl go off like this. Not so easy. Not so fast. Never so welcoming. The mixture of eroticism and tension between us makes it seem like my life depends on getting her off.
But maybe that’s the adrenaline from almost getting killed.
From—
But I’m not thinking about that now. Right now, I’m watching Hannah, the beautiful young florist, fly over the crest of her orgasm.
She screams when it hits hard, and I smother her mouth with mine, swallowing her cries.
I keep my body pressed against hers and slow-pump my fingers until her channel stops milking them. “Fuck, Flowers.” I ease my fingers out, then hold her gaze with heavy lids as I put them in my mouth. “Tastes like heaven.” My voice sounds guttural and rough. “I could spend all night eating your pussy.”
She blinks at me, her eyes unfocused and glassy, her cheeks flushed with color.
I remembered her as gorgeous, but she was so young when I went away. Barely out of high school. Now she’s all grown up. She pierced her nose. Grew her hair out into wild, golden-tipped ringlets that fall nearly to her ass. She’s gloriously beautiful.
I can’t help myself. I need more. Like I’m going to fucking die on this spot if I don’t get my dick wet right now.
“I want to be inside you,” I find myself saying out loud. It’s wrong. So wrong. I have the girl tied up with florist tape, for fuck’s sake. But something about the way she looks at me makes me think I have a chance. “You gonna let me bend you over that counter and fuck that sweet pussy hard?”
Christ. I’m so fucking depraved. What girl would say yes to that?
But unbelievably, she wets her lips and says, “Do you have a condom?”
Fuck, yeah, I have a condom. I may not have had the urge to use one until now, but I sure as hell prepared for the opportunity in case I did.
I have her bent over in said position in about two seconds flat. I shove her short skirt up and slap her ass cheeks again several times, then yank down her panties. I love the pink blush on her ass, my handprints starting to show.
I find the condom. The pistol I’d stowed in my waistband falls to the floor when I release my cock, but I ignore it, too blinded with desire to even think straight.
Somehow, I get the condom on.
Drag my cock through her juices.
She’s still wonderfully wet. Gloriously, miraculously wet. I sink into her heat, and my entire body shudders with pleasure.
“Fuck. You feel so good.” I’m not chatty, but one touch from this girl, and I’m babbling like a brook. I have her face pressed down on the workbench, her glorious dark brown and honey-colored curls spread in a wild curtain. I push it back from her face, then gather a fistful at the back of her head. “You like having your hair pulled?”
She makes a little whimpering sound like, “Uhn.” Might be a no, but her pussy gushes with fresh lubricant, so I take it as a yes.
I take a firmer grip on her hair and begin to thrust in time with her pants of pleasure. I can feel every twitch and spasm of her pussy as I push my way deeper into her depths. Her body shakes as if electric currents are coursing through her. I quicken my pace, driving harder into her with each thrust.