Page 23 of False Start

I don't understand the chagrined look on his face, considering I'd literally commit a felony for these shoes.

"If your only vice is overspending on sneakers, I'd say you're doing better than 98% of the population."

He laughs at that, and heads back out into his bedroom. After one last longing glance, I follow.

"You, of all people, know that's not my only vice." His voice turns seductive, and my body goes on alert.

"Beside sneakers, I enjoy THC, loads of casual sex, and nights of drinking that sometimes lead to strangers in my bed." He grins. "Plenty of people would call my lifestyle hedonistic."

I roll my eyes and sit on the bed.

"Prudes, maybe, but I don't see anything wrong with indulging in life's pleasures. Life's way too short to play by the rules."

He sits next to me, bracing his arm behind my back so his skin brushes against mine.

"On that, we can agree," he murmurs.

Without preamble, he pounces, locking his lips on the hammering pulse at my throat. My fingers fly into his hair, raking through the long, messy strands and pulling him harder into me. His teeth scrape my collarbone, and I let out a whimper as lust builds inside me. He drags his lips down the column of my neck until they reach the high collar of my blouse.

"Why the hell would you cover up these amazing tits?" he groans as he squeezes one in his sizeable hand. As large as they are, my breasts still overflow.

"To torment you, of course," I reply flirtatiously, and I'm rewarded with a playful bite to my nipple through the fabric.

"Off," he demands, sitting back so I have enough room to remove the offending garment. I almost laugh at his pouty expression.

"Bossy, much?" My resistance is for show; I'm just as eager as he is to be skin to skin.

With my shirt gone, he makes quick work of my bra—it's commendable, given the number of hooks required to keep the girls supported—and my breasts spill into his open mouth.

"Mmmph," he moans, lavishing kisses and licks on the sensitive flesh between my breasts. The sensation is overwhelming, and I pull him away by the hair.

"Hey!" he protests, but when I push him onto his back to straddle him, he dives back into my breasts once more.

I came wearing a skirt again because I like to work smarter, not harder, and I pull the material up to my hips to increase my contact with the throbbing member currently stabbing me in the thigh. Our heats coalesce, and I grind on him, gyrating in a rhythm meant to test his control.

"Nuh uh," he says, and flips me onto my back in one swift movement that takes my breath away. "You're not taking it this time."

I smirk, even though I enjoy the press of his hips between my thighs.

"It got the job done, didn't it?"

He squeezes my hip in retaliation.

"If we're going to keep doing this, you'll learn I like to do better than 'get the job done'," he growls.

I smile mischievously. I havezeroproblems with a man fucking me like he has something to prove.

Cory reaches beneath my skirt and I feel the sting of fabric cutting into my flesh, followed by a ripping sound.

"I liked those!" I complain.

"Next time, don't wear any," he commands. My pussy gushes in pleasure.Fuck yes, boss me around, baby!

I cry out when two thick fingers part my folds and push roughly into me. They stroke boldly, twisting and curling, the telltale sounds of my wetness filling the air.

"I'm going to make you cum on my hand, then I'm going to make you cum on my tongue, and then, if you're good, I might let you cum on my cock."

I bark out a laugh.Arrogant prick.

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