Page 71 of Tempted By the Devil

I’m panting and bobbing up and down, clawing at his broad shoulders and chest. I’ve never been so carefree, so desperate for release that I’m in the backseat of a limousine fucking myself on the biggest cock I’ve ever taken.

The passion between us leaves no room for rational thought. For me to consider how tonight has wound up like this.

How my dress has ended up on the floor of a limo while Rafael Calderone’s dick is buried inside my pussy.

We’ve surrendered to the moment as I bounce on him and he gropes my ass and guides me along. We collide midway for more kisses that take our breath away. Our bodies slap together and the entirety of planet earth feels like it’s moving with us as we crash into each other again and again.

Cries of pleasure echo in the tight space. Rafael’s throaty grunts juxtapose the sharper sobs that tumble past my lips.

We work our bodies ’til we’re on the cusp of coming.

My hips gather speed, gyrating harder against him, driving us to the brink.

I tip my head back as my orgasm strikes and I seize up, no longer able to function. The intensity is too great, tingling sparks blasting off from within.

Rafael gropes my ass cheeks and then picks up where I’ve left off. I’m lifted as he thrusts up into me and feels every contraction my pussy gives. He groans at how good it feels and crushes his lips to mine in a final passionate, full-mouthed kiss.

It’s sloppy and wet and leaves us panting for air when we finally separate. But as Rafael spills his warm release inside me, it feels like a fitting ending.

We lost complete control and gave in in every way imaginable.

I giggle and bury my face into his neck. “What just happened?”

Rafael’s still palming my ass. His other hand sweeps up my bare spine as he grabs the back of my neck and brings my face toward his. “You stopped fighting what’s between us,dolcezza.”

* * *

I hardly sleep at all that night. Rafael suggests I spend the night at his penthouse apartment, but I turn him down, citing work the next day.

“I own the station,” he points out. “It doesn’t matter when you show up.”

“It does to me. Some other time.”

But I’m not so sure I’m being honest once he drops me off at my place and I twist the lock in the door. Jayla’s fallen asleep on the couch to a D-List movie she’s streamed on Tubi, the remote limp in her hand and soft snores gusting out of her.

I pad over and sneak the remote out of her grasp so I can turn off the TV.

She jolts awake, arms and legs flopping about on the couch. “Hmm? I was watching that!”

“More like you were knocked out, down for the count.”

“What time is it?” She sits up, rubbing at her eyes.

I glance at my phone screen. “Just after midnight.”

Three words that seem to put the battery in Jayla’s back. She leaps off the couch to follow me down the hall. An impish grin spreads onto her face. “Midnight and you’re just now getting back from the Iverson and Gatz match? Wasn’t that overhoursago?”

“None of your business.”

She runs ahead, cutting me off halfway down the hall. Her hooded eyes rove over me in careful appraisal, noting telltale details about my night. Everything from the wrinkles in my dress, the mussed tendrils framing my face, and the lipstick that’s long since faded. Even the vague bruises on my knees from where Rafael and I got a little carried away rolling around the backseat of the limousine.

A shrill squeal leaves her that makes me flinch. “OH SHIT!” she cries out, clapping her hands and jumping. “You fucked him, sissy! You definitely fucked him!”

“SHHHHHH!” I silence, pressing a finger to my lips. “I think the neighbors on the top floor didn’t hear you.”

The giggle she releases almost makes me giggle. It’s so girlish, so immature in a way, but at the same timesoJayla.

It reminds me of the times we were young girls and we’d giggle over a cute boy or trade stories about our first kisses.

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