Page 18 of Saved By The Mountain Man

She hollowed out her mouth, pulling me even deeper, and I popped my head up, my eyes locking with hers.

“God, Babygirl,” I whispered, running my hand over her face and then into her hair. “You take my cock so well.”

She moaned, the back of her throat moving around my head and I growled, having to hold back the release.

I was not about to come that damn fast. And not just in her mouth.

The first time I came with this vixen, I wanted it to be in her cunt. Then I wanted to watch it drip out of her, only to do it all over again. I wanted her to see the stars for days on end and be unable to move.

I tightened my grip on her hair, making her pull back and she whimpered, her tongue still swirling around my head.

“Vixen,” I groaned, “not like this.”

“Like what?” she pouted, stroking me with her hand.

“I want to come in your tight pussy, Vixen, with your legs around my waist and my dick buried all the way in. I want you to feel every ribbed piercing along the way, making you cry out. I want to fuck you so hard that you will feel me pumping into you every time you squeeze your legs closed. I want to make you cry out over and over with pleasure.

“And I want that fucking now!”

***** Vixen *****

Yes, please.

I want it all.

Right now.

And into tomorrow.

And for all ages.

“Show me what you got, big boy,” I taunted. Though, from the position on the floor, sadly, it wouldn’t be much. Because I still needed his help to get up.

The foot wasn’t bad, but the rib was. However, with all his drug-filled kisses, I lost myself to all the pain. All I wanted was him, all I saw was him.

“With pleasure.”

He easily lifted me and carried me to the room, making quick work of the shirt I had on, and then the rest of his clothing, letting me bask in all his glory nakedness.

And my word, was he fucking spectacular.

I let my eyes trail over his arms, his chest, his washboard stomach, over this dick, down his legs, and then back up. How he thought anyone wouldn’t want him was beyond me. This man was literally sex on a bike. Anyone in their right mind would jump him given the chance.

“I want to treasure this.”

“I’m not that type of girl,” I teased, reaching out to run my hand over him. His hand caught my wrist then he kneeled on the bed, holding my hand by my head.

“Then you better be. Because right now, slow is all you can handle. There will come a time when I do every wicked, naughty thought floating through my mind, but it’s not now. Not while you’re still healing.”

He leaned his head down, his tongue swirling around my nipple, then his teeth latched onto the bar and tugged, making me cry out from the pain and the pleasure.

I knew those damn things would be good for something.

“If I was to spread your legs right now, what would I find?”

“A wet pussy.”

No use denying what he was about to find out. Besides, something told me I wanted to be a good girl for this biker of mine.

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