Page 170 of Bitter Poetry
“Ah, fuck. Fuck!” He continues to jack his cock, more cum painting my pussy, fingers and lower belly as I lay there trembling violently.
Primitive.
Like he is marking me as his.
I can’t get enough air…
He must take pity on me because he tugs the panties from between my lips and drops them on the table. He pushes his fingers straight into my mouth.
I gag.
Arousal, so fierce it makes my head spin, slams into me.
“Good girl.”
I blink furiously, my body is on fire, aware of how his fingers fill my mouth, how it makes saliva pool.
He bestows me a lazy smirk, withdraws his fingers, and drops back into the seat.
His cell rings.
Really? Right now.
He holds up a hand when I go to move and shakes his head in warning. “Don’t you dare fucking move.”
The hell?
He answers a call. “Yes?”
His cock is laying against his belly, leaking cum. I’m smothered in so much of it that it’s dripping onto the table beneath me. My nipples are hard and my breasts ache for his touch. My pussy feels swollen inside and out, and my clit is throbbing.
Being left here to stew in my desperation, rather than cooling my ardor, makes it worse.
How does that even work?
“Yeah, I know. It was a stupid fucking idea,” he mutters. “What did they say?”
He leans forward, making me jump when his fingers slide through the mess.
My chest heaves. His eyes locked on mine. He slowly pushes two fingers inside me.
My legs want to snap closed and trap his hand there. I’m shaking with the strain of not moving, because if I move, hemight stop. He pulls out slowly, then brushes his fingertips over my clit before pushing them back into me again.
This time, he leaves them there, letting me pulse and flutter around them.
I wish I still had my panties in my mouth because holding my moans inside represents an epic challenge.
“Not a priority right now.”
He pulls out slowly. Panting, I shake my head frantically. Expression implacable, he collects his cum and proceeds to paint it around my right nipple. With his eyes locked on mine, he rubs it over my nipple and then squeezes it between his fingers and thumb, taking his time working it in.
I’m—losing—my—mind.
He leans back into the couch. “There’s not much more we can do today… I definitely need some sleep.”
Asshole.
He smirks. His cock is starting to kick against his belly again, getting hard. He strokes himself absently, like I’m not lying here losing my mind.
