Page 61 of The Last Kind of Kiss
Look, along with my circulation, my senses have fled the building. And if I wasn’t so mesmerized by the feel of her lips on my neck—and her other lips on the tip of my dick—then maybe I would’ve held back a little, but that’s not what happens.
“Lila, the only thing I’ve been thinking about is tearing your fucking clothes off and stretching you out on my cock again, leaving such a deep imprint that you’ll feel me even when you’re empty,” I growl, angling my hips and bucking upwards into her soaked cunt. “You have no idea how much I crave you.”
She freezes for a second, but her dominance never wavers. “Is that so?”
I’m already panting from this never-ending back and forth, needing to thrust into her more than I need my next breath of air. Just the position she’s in right now is enough to make me come.
I throw my head back against the wall, adjusting my hips to alleviate some of the tension mounting in my balls. “Look at what you’re doing to me, Lils.”
Lila doesn’t say anything else before she lowers herself onto my dick, going slowly at first to brace for the sudden change in pressure, then exhaling sharply as she stretches around my girth. Her face scrunches the moment I breach that tight ring of muscle, but her expression softens in pure bliss the further she descends.
“Show me. Show me just how much you missed me,” she instructs, gravity helping me sheathe my cock inside her, her lubricated cunt swallowing me to the hilt. Knowing that I can’texactlyshow her, she begins to ride me at a consistent pace,hands anchored against my chest. I keep my pelvis in a constant undulating motion to meet her each time, and we create an easy, slippery suction that has her bouncing on my legs. She’s milking my cock in stomach-clenching pulses, wringing pleasure from my body effortlessly, and I’m the one who’s tumbling headfirst this time, hoping that she’ll be there at the bottom to catch me.
My dick pummels her walls, my arousal mingling with hers in a squelch that echoes around the empty space. She’s slipping up and down my shaft greedily—no longer hindered by the size—and each time she bears down, I catch the tail end of her stomach filling out with the thickness of my cock. Seeing her like this is even sexier than if I were the one in charge. She’s using me just like she should.
I jack my pelvis into her rather harshly, and her fingernails claw into my chest, our moans synchronizing in the silence of the night.
“My hands may be tied behind my back, but I don’t need to touch you to make you come,” I drawl, doing right by my promise and pumping into her cunt with a molar-cracking upstroke. “And you’re gonna keep that cunt real nice and wet for me while I fuck you rotten.”
A handicap doesn’t prevent me from satisfying my girl, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Moan after moan falls from her lips—a testament to my skill—and I can feel that coil inside me begin to stretch in preparation for the final snap. I’m hot and cold all at once, sweat’s taking up every inch of my forehead, and the muscles of my stomach crunch with a fiery burn.
I want these damn laces off. I want to feel her skin beneath my hands. I want to grab her ass. I want to push her hair back and tell her how good she’s doing.
“I don’t have to do shit,” she snaps, impatience bleeding into her movements while she attempts to uphold a steady tempo.
“You don’t have to, but you will. I own your pussy, angel. Youcan flip the script however you like, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the one gushing onto me.”
I can tell she’s almost there. She just needs one last push.
I bring her to the brink before her orgasm can cleave through her, and even when she’s exhausted, she looks sexy as all hell. “Just because I’m wearing your jersey doesn’t mean I’m yours.”
“Fuck yeah it does,” I growl, bottoming deep in her cunt, an overflow of her arousal leaking around the plug of my dick. “And I’ll prove it to you when I watch my cum drip out of that spoiled little pussy—gonna lick it off your damn thighs.”
Lila’s hands come up to fondle her polyester-clad tits, and what a fucking sight she is—a goddess with her golden hair flowing behind her, backdropped by an oceanic blue that outlines her body in an ethereal glow. Her lithe fingers play with her nipples, torturing me with the loud moans that follow, and her eyelids flutter closed.
“Eyes on me, angel. You’re gonna look at me when you come on my dick.”
“It’s too much. It’s too much, Bristol,” she whimpers, tears ribboning down her face and messing up her makeup.
“I know, but you’re almost there. I want to watch you fall apart,” I coo, and with one last slam of her hips, she cries out my name, gushing profusely over my length. She leans into me with her nose against my neck, and watching her lose control like that is enough to tip me over the same ledge. An inkwell of darkness infiltrates my vision as I squirt long, plentiful streams against her walls.
I’ve got her crumpled on top of me, our sweaty bodies rubbing together, and the labored strain of our breath blends into gentle susurrations. My stamina’s completely gone now. I’m pretty much as solid as a dome of Jell-O, but she doesn’t let mepull out—she keeps her arms wrapped around me, trickles of cum seeping out of her and onto my lap.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” I whisper against the crown of her head, kissing her frizzled mess of flyaways.
Maybe it’s because she didn’t hear me, but she doesn’t acknowledge my compliment. “I’m scared, Bristol,” she murmurs quietly, fatigue an arm’s length away as the cadence of her breathing slows.
My heart—which was happily taking a back seat this entire time—pangs with paralyzing worry. “Why?”
It takes her a moment to respond, but when she does, my whole world crumbles into dust.
“Because I don’t want you to leave again.”
21
WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?
BRISTOL
