Page 77 of Every Move You Make

I venture to look up at him and slide a finger inside her. “Touch yourself, Isaiah. Just your tip.” Straight and cut, his cock is so damn beautiful from here. Dark tight curls dust his groin and just like his beard, it’s well groomed.

In a flash, he grips his crown and pulls, like he was just waiting for me to give him permission. His shoulders sag and the muscles in his legs relax.

Adding a second finger, I locate that rough little patch on her inner wall and she bucks into my palm. “Yes, princess. Give in to me. Listen to your body and don’t fight it. None of us should be doing what we’re doing, but it feels so good to be bad, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm,” she whimpers.

“Your coach is watching you, Robyn. He’s watching me. He’s stroking himself because he can’t touch you. Doesn’tthat make you want him even more?”

“Yes,” she cries, and I furiously rub her G-spot.

“Look at him,” I growl, and she obeys. “Look how pathetic he is. All he can do is sit there, massaging his tip and pretending he’s me. Or maybe he’s pretending he’s you. Who do you wish you were, Isaiah?”

“Both,” he whimpers. “I want to be both of you.”

At that, Robyn’s channel tightens around my fingers, and I bend over to suck her hardened clit, coaxing her magnificent orgasm and swallowing it.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Good. Oh, that’s so, so good, Robyn. Give it all to him.”

She chokes out a few more sobs before sinking into the mat and smiling, totally blissed out.

Before she opens her eyes, I’m sheathing myself in latex and positioning myself at her glistening center. My tip drags against her wet, swollen clit.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, finally looking down at where our sexes kiss. I’d like a fucking gold medal for having the restraint of a saint. Well, a saint that fucks. Is there a patron saint of restraint? Or would it be the patron saint of fucking? Either way, I’d like to submit my application, because surelyno onehas been this close to fucking Robyn Cassidy and not lost their goddamn minds in a lusty selfish fog.

“Unghh,” I groan, rolling my lip under my teeth.

“Please, Dell,” she whines, thrusting her hips forward and begging to swallow my aching length. “Please…”

I’m lost. “Baby. Fuck. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

“Take it,” a low, murky voice says near me.Oh shit.I almost forgot Isaiah was watching. That’s how entranced her bare, perfect pussy has me. “Take it for me too.”

“Oh god!” she screams as I thrust into her tight, wet heat. And at that, I officially revoke my application for the patron saint of restraint.

Slow down, Dell,I remind myself.Gentle. She likes it gentle.

Collapsing on her, our foreheads touch, and my hands grip underneath her shoulder blades. “Robyn.” My mind disintegrates into nothing more than a fizz and I’m reduced to animalistic urges. There’s a soft, deep voice rumbling from nearby, and I vaguely clock words of praise. The only thing tying me to reality is remembering that voice is my cute and grumpy Isaiah. But how can I think about anything other than this goddess of a woman below me, writhing and screaming for me, hooking her strong legs around me and pushing her heels against my ass?

Ass. Suddenly I need to see hers.

With a grunt and nothing short of a miracle, I pull out of her and find a yellow yoga ball within arm’s reach. Rolling it in front of her, I lift her gently into the position I want. With her stomach on the ball, she presents her glorious backside with the cutest little tuft of blond peach fuzz over her tail bone.

Aww.

“Yes,” she groans as I thrust into her again. My chest is pressed against her back when I peek up at Isaiah.

“More. Tell her how beautiful she is.”

“You are,” he groans, stroking the head of his dick. “I dream about you, Robyn. I dream about kissing you under the stars. I dream about you, Dell, fucking me like you’re fucking her.”

“Yeah? Where am I fucking you?”

“Here. In my bed. In the back of a car. In a pool. On our honeymoon,” he sobs.

Honeymoon?

“Oh fuck, that’s hot,” Robyn moans.

---