Page 71 of Delayed Penalty

I circle my arm around her waist, pulling her back tighter against me, and she sighs when I drag my hand down, holding her pussy. But I don’t take it any further. We just lie there as I hold her, my mind reeling from what happened earlier.

One minute I was annoyed with her for being so damn stubborn and walking to God knows where, then the next, I was kissing her. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried. She was yelling at me, her hazel eyes so full of fire, looking so fuckingcute with her lips pinched together, and I couldn’t help myself—I had to taste her again.

Like she knows I’m thinking about her, she wiggles back against me, dragging her ass over my already hard cock.

“Are you sore?” I ask when she does it again.

I don’t know why I’m asking. I’ve never cared with previous partners. I’ve always just taken what I wanted, when I wanted it, and they offered it willingly.

She shakes her head. “No. I’m good.”

“Good.”

In one swift movement, I roll her to her back, sliding over her and fitting myself between her legs like it’s where I belong. Her eyes are bright with mischief as I settle against her.

“Hi.”

“Hi back,” I say, then I kiss her just because I can.

A quick kiss turns into something more heated, far faster than I expected, and soon, I’m sliding my cock against her soaked slit, wanting another round.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You too,” she murmurs, dragging my lips back to hers.

But I wrench my mouth free before she can get too carried away, and she whimpers. Her sounds of displeasure soon turn to joy as I kiss my way down her body, shouldering my way between her thighs.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

Why? Why do I care?

She nods.

“Good. Now, eyes on me, honey.”

She pushes up on her elbows, watching as I slide my tongue over her clit, her hips bucking off the bed. I get it. I do. She tastes so fucking good, and I don’t even care that I came inside her twice and can taste the saltiness of myself on my tongue. It’s not enough to deter me, especially not when she’s looking at me like she is—like she’ll die if I don’t taste her again.

I drag my tongue back over her clit, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. She begins to close her eyes, then she snaps them open wide like she’s just remembered my instructions.

I chuckle against her. “Good girl. Keep them open.”

She nods her head vehemently as I lick at her more, touching every inch of her I can find before I suck her clit into my mouth with a force that has her crying out.

“Attagirl. Scream for me, Quinny. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“You!” Her eyes flutter closed against her will. “You, Adam. My pussy belongs to you.”

“You’re damn right it does.”

I curl two fingers into her, and she’s nothing but aheap of sighs and moans as she bucks against me, coming all over my tongue and my hand.

And yet, it’s still not enough.

I crawl back up her body, taking her mouth in a heated kiss. This time it’s me who sighs as I sink into her, her pussy gripping me like it’s welcoming me back home.

Being inside her like this does feel like home. It feels like everything I never knew I wanted, which is ridiculous because she drives me crazy half the time, her smart mouth and her eye rolls and her inability to take no for an answer. I don’t even like her, yet I fuck her slow, then fast, then slow again, and she clings to me all the while, sighing in my ear and begging for more. I don’t stop when she shatters around me again, nor when I fill her with my cum again.

When the last of my orgasm is squeezed out of me, only then do I slow my pace until I’m just lying on top of her, our lips barely brushing together, the taste of butterscotch and her on my tongue.

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