Page 23 of Her Supermodel Stalker
Devin holds his long, stiff shaft and slides it over my soaked womanhood, unhurried as if teasing me. But I know he’s being considerate. He’s making sure he’s thoroughly lubricated before entering, so he won’t hurt me. His patience arouses me more. I want to beg again and tell him I’m ready, but modesty holds me back. I don’t want to push him too far.
Finally, he nudges the head of his cock at my entrance, his ragged breathing betrays his eagerness, but still, he eases in slowly.
“Relax, baby,” he says to me. “I’m gonna make it good.”
I realize I’m actually nervous and tense. I take a deep breath and relax, letting him slide in a few more inches, feeling the stretch of my walls.
Devin closes his eyes and sighs. “Good God! You’re so fucking tight.”
I giggle and moan at the same time, flattered by the effect I have on him.
“I want you to promise me something, Lexi,” he says in a hoarse voice.
“What is it?”
“You will let no one else touch that tight pussy of yours. It belongs to me now, and I’m gonna fuck it senseless every night, get it?”
Oh God. I nearly come just hearing those possessive, steamy words. Does he mean it? I swallow and say, “I promise you, Devin. I’m yours as long as you want me.”
“Of course, I will always want you, baby. You’re mine. From the first time I saw you, you became mine. I will never let you go.” He says while giving me rapid, shallow thrusts. The tip of his cock hits the sensitive bundle of nerves inside me, making me mewl until I urge him on.
“I’m gonna come again if you keep doing it, Devin.”
He growls, and without warning, plunges all the way in. I yelp, surprised and delighted by the overwhelming tingling sensation that spreads through my entire body.
“I’m sorry, baby. Am I hurting you?” He pauses. “I can’t help it. You feel too fucking good.”
“I’m good. Don’t stop.” I urge him.
“No way in hell I will stop,” he says, chuckling.
And then he picks up his pace and thrusts deep and fast. With each thrust, I feel my body widen to accommodate his large girth. Even with my sinful wetness, each movement takes my breath away. I can’t stop the whimpers escaping my throat. Devin pulls out to the neck and then plunges back to the hilt, his bulbous crown gliding through my slippery walls, sending shivers in my body over and over.
I close my eyes to enjoy the euphoric sensation until pressure builds up and the knot inside me is pulled tighter and tighter. My body starts to shake, and I dig my fingers into his back as my world suddenly spins and then splinters into pieces. Devin grunts immediately, and he lifts my hips and pounds into me even harder, in a punishing rhythm. His jaw clenching, his face slightly contorts as he gives me one last, forceful thrust that expels the air from my lungs.
He falls on top of me for a moment, panting and crushing me with his large, muscular body, before rolling onto his back and cuddles me in his arms.
“Christ, Lexi. You’re amazing!” he says and kisses me.
“You, too,” I say, rubbing my face against his hard chest with content.
I fall into a blissful nap in Devin’s warm embrace. When I wake, he isn’t next to me. The room is dark, and I hear a faint piano melody from downstairs. Thinking Devin must be playing, I sit up, pick up his t-shirt strewed on the chair, and go out of the room.
The living room light isn’t on but is illuminated by the porch light seeping through the window curtain. Devin is sitting in front of the piano, shirtless, absorbed in the music. I recognize the piece. It’s Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude.
I stand next to the piano, watching him play. He looks sentimental and serious, so different from the cocky supermodel I know. He plays with his eyes closed most of the time, but when he opens them, he fixes them on me, makes me shiver with intensity. The beautiful notes he produces each time his fingers hit the keyboard echo through my body, tugging my heartstrings.
Unable to contain the emotions bubbling inside me, I step behind him and hold him. I press my face against his back while stroking his chest, hearing his breathing turn thick and heavy. He stumbles somewhat but doesn’t tell me to stop, so I become bolder. My hands slide down to his belly and reach the waistband of his pajama. He falters again, but he doesn’t stop playing. I rub the drop of precum over his crown playfully and nibble his ear. He groans but still carries on with his music, which becomes more passionate and sensual to my ears. When I stroke his shaft, he grunts and stops.
“You little temptress,” he murmurs as he drags me over, setting me on top of the keyboard.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I couldn’t help it.”
“You look so fucking sexy in my shirt,” he says, as he slips his hands inside the roomy fabric, feeling every inch of me from front to back and making me shiver.
Spreading my legs open, he once again buries his face inside them, and feasts on me until I spasm on the keyboard, producing a string of discordant notes.
Sitting on his lap, I smooth his hair. “You’re so good. How long have you been playing?”
