Page 45 of Little Paper Games
“Kenna,” I urged. I didn’t tell her what I wanted. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I wanted her lips on me again. I wanted my cock buried in her throat. I wanted her pussy lowered on me until I saw Jesus himself, telling me I’d died a happy man, mid orgasm.
She stayed there, perched over my knees, essentially, for a long moment, just staring at me. What was she waiting for?
“Touch me,” I begged. Yes, that’s right, I begged. She smirked and moved back up my body. But she didn’t stop at my groin, as I’d expected her to. She moved clear up until she straddled my face.
“Mary, Joseph, and the holy fucking donkey, yes, ma’am,” I growled, taking a deep breath of her luscious pussy poised above me and ready to be feasted on. I was a fucking starving man.
“Make me cum,” she ordered. Sheordered!I grabbed a hold of her hips, wrapping around her thighs and pulled her down to me with a voracious growl of need.
Yes, Kenna fucking Clarke would be the damned death of me.
Her pussy tasted like heaven.
Slick and wet.
Hot and pulsating.
And the noises.The noises!I pulled her down harder into my mouth as I licked and flicked and caressed her sensitive nub. She gyrated and moved over me as I held her close, her moans and gasps making my cock drip.
“That’s it. Just like that, Jude. Taste me.”
I take it back. I take it all back. The noises were nothing.
Her words, however? Fuck me eight times sideways on a Tuesday morning with coffee, that shit was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. A laughing, kind Kenna Clarke was good. Dirty-talking Kenna was everything.
“Let go,” she whispered. For whatever reason, I listened. I let go of her thighs, literally fisting my hands in order to not reach for her again. She lifted away, flipping around, so she was facing my feet before straddling my face again. Reaching backwards, she grasped me by the hair and pulled me into her heat again.
“Lick. Make me cum.” Christ almighty, this woman!!
I dove back into her heat and, honestly, could have stayed there forever. My hands found her thighs again, helping her to move against my tongue as I tasted and teased her again.
My body bucked, and I moaned into her clit when her hands wrapped around my cock, softly stroking me. Softly and slowly. Too slowly.
“Don’t stop. Be good for me,” she purred. Kill me now! That voice. Those words. I groaned and licked her clit again, faster. My hips gyrated, seeking out faster and harder touch from her.
“Slow down. Yes, just like that. Keep it up and make me cum.” Her voice was husky, rich. None of that high pitched wailing like in half the pornos you find out there.
I didn’t want to slow down. I needed her to speed up. Her fingers were soft against my cock. I wanted her to grab me tight and fist my cock hard and fast like I’d fuck her sweet pussy. But she stayed slow. She stayed soft. I stayed harder than fucking steel.
I vibrated my tongue against her clit and reveled in the way she finally sped up. Her hand wrapped tighter around me, and her other hand played with my balls. Women missed those half the time, but of course Kenna Clarke wouldn’t. My hips lifted, thrusting into her hands as she moved faster.
Faster.
Tighter.
Lube dripped onto my cock, making it slick as fuck. Where did she get lube? I didn’t care.
Faster.
Tighter, gripping perfectly as she reached the head.
I felt my balls tighten up.
My toes curled.
My hips lifted as the tingling began in the base of my spine and then —
Nothing.
