Page 22 of Sexting the Tattooed Outlaw
“I belong to you,” she pants.
My finger strokes her swollen clit and she gasps, eyes wide and locked to mine.
“Whose pussy is this?” I ask her with another rough thrust of my hips. The headboard slams into the wall, and for this reason, I’m glad her parents sleep on the other end of the house.
“It’s yours,” she says.
“Say it, then.”
“This pussy is yours. It’s yours,” she gasps.
She’s arching back again, walls squeezing tight around my cock. She’s close now and I’m going to give my girl exactly what she needs. My fingers stroke her clit, teasing her, fasterand faster until she’s bucking her hips against me, walls of her pussy spasming around my cock, milking it as she takes her own pleasure from me.
It’s the best sight I’ve ever seen. She’s never looked more beautiful than now, her pale freckled skin flushed with pleasure, hair fanned out around her head like a halo.
She’s the closest thing to an angel I’ve ever known and I know I’m too damned to begin to deserve her.
She’s the strong, sweet curvy girl from a small town that I crushed on for years.
And me? I’m the dangerous criminal outlaw, some washed up bastard child of an alcoholic.
Kay’s always made me feel like I’m more than that. Like I can be the hero instead of the bad guy. For her, I’ll never stop trying at redemption. Even if it’s hopeless. She gives me hope.
I don’t let myself release until her orgasm begins to fade, wanting to be sure that she gets hers first. It’s only when her legs stop shaking that I let myself pump into her, releasing my load into her tight pussy and wondering how many more chances at this I’m going to get.
Don’t fuck it up again, Sam.
“Fuck. You have to leave!”
“What?”
I open my eyes. The sun is shining through the windows and my limbs feel heavy in a good way, the way they do after a long, deep sleep. When I open my eyes all the way and realize I’m still in Kay’s bed, memories of the night before come flooding back.
I took her three times last night, and she had seven orgasms. Yeah, I fucking counted. Because when the woman of yourdreams says she’s never had an orgasm with a man before, you rise to the fucking occasion and show her how much better she deserves.
How much you can do for her. How good you can treat her.
There’s a knock at the door. I ignore it.
Kay is standing at the end of the bed, half dressed. Her hair is knotted in the back. I grin lazily at the sight, shifting in the bed so I can get a better view of what Kay looks like the morning after being thoroughly fucked.
“Get dressed,” Kay hisses, looking around. “Where did your boxers go? Find them!”
“Why?” I ask.
Knock knock knock.
“That’s why!” Kay whispers, pointing at the door. “It’s my mom. She’s worried about you because you didn’t get up for chores this morning. And now she’s wanting to talk to me. But I can’t talk to her, she’ll know exactly what happened just from one glance at my face!”
“You’re not a good liar,” I agree.
“So I’ve been told,” she whispers. “Keep your voice down. She’ll know you’re in here.”
She’s right. Ella Beaumont is in the hallway, knocking and speaking through the door. But right now, I don’t particularly care. I don’t really care about anything right now, because
“Kay?” Ella asks. “Are you alright?”
“Fine!”
