Page 113 of Petty's Crime

Under my gaze, his muscles involuntarily flex. Before he can start on me, I lean forward, gently taking one of his pert nipples between my lips, my attention making him suck in air.

“I gotta taste you.” His voice sounds hoarse. “Babe, get naked, please.”

Oh, I don’t mind obeying that instruction. Taking a step back, I seductively undo the buttons on my shirt, taking my time, revealing more and more glimpses of tantalising skin.

His breath hitches, his eyes darken, and his hands clench as though he’s having difficulty holding himself back and giving into his desire to take over. As I slide my shirt off my shoulders, and slowly, very slowly, slip out of my bra, I hear a muffled curse under his breath.

His hand reaches down to cup himself as if he’s in pain, and he grimaces.

Next come my shorts. I undo the snap, then pull down the zipper, then pause. He draws in air and his mouth tightens.

Then, backing away toward the bed, I inch down the material and leave myself wearing only lace panties that don’t hide much of anything.

His control snaps. He launches forward, pushing me so I land flat on my back then rips away that last vestige of covering.

At first his impatience makes me grin until he pushes my legs apart and dives in. Then I no longer find anything amusing. This is wonderfully, pleasurably, serious.

Oh my God.His fingers, I already know, are talented, but his tongue? Has he read a manual or something? However he’s gained his knowledge, or maybe it’s instinctive, he knows exactly what to do as he assaults my clit in the nicest possible way.

I feel myself getting wetter by the second, and when he slides a finger into my slit, it glides in easily.

I thought I already knew what to expect, but somehow he’s taking me to new levels. I catch my breath as my muscles ripple then clench, and far before I was expecting it, waves of pleasure sweep over me. Remembering my parents are close by, I stuff my fist into my mouth at the last minute.

It’s so intense I think I pass out for a moment. I see planets and stars, then just as I’m starting to come down, he begins feasting again.

By the time he’s finished with me, I’m limp and drained, and feel I’ve nothing left in reserve. Moving up with a satisfied grin on his face, his lips cover my mouth and I taste myself on him. I clasp my hands to his head, holding him to me. For a moment, he lets me enjoy the caress, then he carefully lifts himself, a wry grimace showing he’s trying to ignore his sore ribs. At that moment, I remember how much I hate Britney.

Then all thoughts of anyone else leave my head as he begins to get payback, torturing me in the same way I’d taunted him. First, he makes a show of removing his boots and his socks, and then he straightens and pauses with his hand on his fly.

When he cocks an eyebrow at me, I wave my hand impatiently.

Chuckling, he flicks the top button, then the next, then,damn him,he pauses.

“Petty,” I moan.

Giving a soft laugh, he takes pity on me, and the last two are opened as well. Then, moving his hips like a male stripper, he flaunts his still-covered manhood as he lowers then kicks off his jeans.

I’ve touched it, held it in my hand and had my mouth around it, but now I want to take time to examine that part of him that will soon be inside me. I moan as he delays removing his boxers, knowing the bastard is completely aware of the effect he’s having.

Then,finally, the material is gone.

His cock is impressive, thick and long, vein covered with a bulbous head. Knowing how talented he is giving head, I grow wetter still at the thought of how much pleasure he’s going to be giving me. I doubt he’s going to disappoint. I’m slightly disappointed when he slides down a condom hiding the sight.

He tries to bravely hide how his face contorts as he starts to move over me, and I suffer a moment’s guilt, knowing he’s not healed, but I’m too damn impatient and a little bit selfish to suggest he stop, trusting he knows how to treat his own body.I’ll die if I don’t have him inside me.

He’s more cautious than he’d normally be, I’m certain of that, but that feeling of slowly being filled, as he starts to move in, gaining ground with each gentle thrust, has me putting my fist to my mouth again.

Pausing when he’s fully in, he meets my eyes and checks in. He’s at that perfect place, near enough my cervix to make me feel great, but not bumping painfully against it. Then, satisfied I can take him, he pulls out and pushes in, starting to punctuate his movements with a swivel of his hips.

I know of necessity due to his injuries he’s being gentle, but this is more than that. We’re not fucking, we’re making love. Resisting the urge to wrap my arms around him, I place my hands above my head, using my body to match his thrusts.

I may have already had multiple orgasms, but my body doesn’t care. I moan as I feel the telltale signs once again sweep through me. Opening my eyes, I watch his face. It’s contorted in effort as he continues his slow onslaught. As the feelings rise in me and again my muscles tense, I’m on the brink of not knowing whether I’ll be able to survive the release that’s coming, and being aware that I’ll die if he doesn’t take me over the top.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Babe, you’ve gotta come for me. You feel so fuckin’ good. You’re squeezing my dick. Babe, you’ve got to come all over it.”

He thrusts again. “Babe, you close?” His voice has dropped an octave, and it sounds like he’s struggling to form words. “Oh, fuck, doll.”

He needn’t worry, I’m right there with him. I swear I can feel his cock inside me swell and that tiny movement is enough for me to let go. At that precise moment, his mouth covers mine, swallowing my scream.

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