Page 63 of Defending her Heart

“Your tits are perfect.” They fill my hands and my mouth like no others have before. Not too big, not too small. And real. Real is the most important to me. Real inside and out, and Kendall is as real and raw as any woman I’ve ever met.

“Nash.” She grinds her naked pussy over my cock, and I can feel her wetness through my pants.

I wish I was wearing light gray slacks so I could see the mess she’s making on my clothes.

“Lift for me, baby,” the endearment sneaks out as I tilt my hips and lower my pants and briefs. When her slick heat meets my thighs, I groan. “So. Fucking. Wet.”

I fill my mouth with her breast and cup her mound with my hand. I love how she rides me. My cock, my face, my fingers. She doesn’t hold back and takes what she needs from me, and I love it.

Slipping a finger in her wet folds at the same time I suck her nipple and drive her mad with groans. The sounds from her pussy and her throat are going to push me over the edge. I need to taste her though.

I remove my finger and lick her arousal from it. “I need your thighs around my face, Kendall.”

“How?”

I pick her up at the waist and glide her body over mine, her tits dragging across my face, then her belly, then her wet center. Her pussy hovers over my face, and I hear her grappling for the backseat to hold on to. It’ll only be uncomfortable until I make her forget the awkwardness of the angle.

My tongue dives into her pussy and licks her walls. I replace my tongue with my finger, hooking it to the left, then to the right, smiling as she smothers my face. I lap at her clit, tugging, sucking, nipping.

“Fuck me, Nash. Holy fuck. I can’t...don’t stop. God. Nash. Oh, God.”

I fuck her with two fingers and my tongue slashes violently back and forth under her hood until her thighs clamp so hard I almost lose consciousness. Her screams fill the car, and she bangs her fist against the back window over and over again. At least, I hope it’s her fist and not her head or she’s going to have one hell of a concussion.

Her legs are still shaking and her pussy is still convulsing around my tongue when I blindly reach for the condom and sheath myself. As soon as I’m covered, I grip Kendall’s waist and drag her down me and onto my aching cock.

“Nash,” she gasps, and I swallow any remaining words and curses with my mouth.

I lift my hips and slam into her again and again until she regains control of her body and rides me. Rides me fucking hard. This isn’t sex, this is animalistic fucking at its finest.

Kendall’s body is covered in a layer of sweat, and there’s something extra erotic about being mostly clothed while she’s riding my cock buck ass naked. She curves her head over my shoulder and continues to grind, not stopping until my balls tighten, my cock swells, and I fill the condom with my cum.

Fuck. I got so carried away with my own release I didn’t make sure she came again with me. She slithers down my body, our chests pressed together, her head resting against mine. Our heartbeats blend into each other and I wrap my arms around her, not wanting to let go.

Eventually, she shivers, and I start the engine and crank the heater up. Kendall unfolds herself from my body and climbs back to her seat and puts her clothes back on while I tie off the condom and tuck my cock back in my pants. When she’s situated, I back out of the parking lot.

She gives me directions to her house and we ride in silence. Too many times during our fifteen-minute drive I’m tempted to reach over and hold her hand in mine, but that’s not what this is about.

We didn’t go to the Whiskey Buckle on a date. She’s not my girlfriend. We’re not in a relationship. We’re not even dating.

Kendall points to a small home and I pull in front. She gathers her purse and shoots me a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Nash Potato.” She’s out of the car before I can respond.

I watch her saunter to her front door on shaky legs and grin with pride, knowing she’s going to be feeling sore for a few days.

“Anytime, Gravy.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

KENDALL

Even though I was out late last night, my Monday doesn’t drag. It’s kind of hard to sleep through the day when you’re responsible for sixteen five-year-olds. But even so, there’s no way I could sleep through the day with my body still tingling from last night's car sex.

Nash had my body contorted in ways I didn’t think I could bend just so he could lick me to orgasm. Not that I’m complaining. Nor am I complaining about the bruise and leather rash on my right knee from rubbing against the car door while I rode us both to oblivion.

What I am complaining about, however, is the bite mark on my neck. It didn’t happen from our sexcapades in his Range Rover either. Which meant the mark was there when I said my goodbyes at the Whiskey Buckle. Which also explains the mischievous grin Rowan gave me when her eyes were fixated on my neck.

Come to think of it, Nash’s eyes spent a few minutes on my neck when he was flirting with me at the bar. He could have at least warned me about it. Payback’s a bitch. I look forward to rewarding him with a matching mark. Or two.

Maybe three since he left marks on my thighs as well, not that anyone else will see those. I hope he gets me naked again before the red markings go away. He’ll either go all caveman on me and pin me down and add more markings to my body, or he’ll look at me with remorse and promise to take it easy next time.

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