Page 77 of Forbidden Puck
Give the man credit: even after his best friend punched him in the face and he'd basically lost his job, Ryanstillwantedto do the 'right thing.'
But with my legs wrapped around his muscle-bound trunk, and with my hand pulling at his cock, he could fight me off for only so long. With each tug, his cock grew bigger and harder in his sweatpants, and I felt his resistance melt away, like a heap of snow quickly melting under a warm day's sun.
“I haven't been able to stop thinking about how bad I wanted you,” I told him.
“I thought you hated me,” he said, his voice a gravelly hiss.
“Oh, I did.” I nodded profusely. “But that only made my feelings worse.”
His pupils darkened with sin. He kissed me deeply, crazily, an undeniable heat in our lips and growing between our bodies.
“You'resobig and thick and long,” I teased him with a warm whisper in his ear. “I bet you'd feel so good inside me, Ryan.”
Showing vulnerability in the face of temptation, he grunted.
I knew I was winning this battle. I pressed on. “How do you think your big, hard cock would feel, thrusting insid—”
I was stunned when Ryan cut me off with a roar, a primal noise of pure, pent-up animal need. And with that, he let himself go. He grabbed my dress and quickly whipped it over my head, tossing it aside. He tore off my bra just as hastily and flung it across the room.
Wide-eyed and giggling with surprise, I tried to cover my chest in the name of modesty. But Ryan wouldn't have it. He grabbed my wrists with one hand and pinned my arms above my head. I gasped for air and his eyes feasted on my rising-and-falling breasts with a fiendish craving …
“Ryan,” I moaned, writhing beneath him.
With my arms restrained, Ryan lowered himself to my breasts. Greedily, he groped and pawed at my breasts, tweaking and pinching my nipples—and ignoring my initial too-sensitive yelps and mewls.
“Your tits areperfect,” he snarled.
My sensitive cries became deep moans of pleasure as Ryan licked and kissed and sucked at my growing nipples. They elongated in his mouth, the sight of which—pink and erect and wet with his saliva—only drove him even more wild and crazy.
Ryan dragged his tongue down my torso, licking at every inch of skin and grunting at my taste.
Beneath him, I felt like a rag doll, a silly little plaything meant to satisfy him. His carnal desire for me was so thick, so urgent and real. In the past, plenty of boyfriends had wantedme, but never like this, never like they worshiped everyinchof me …
Soon, his mouth was at my waist. He laid a perfect trail of feather-soft kisses above the hem of my panties. I squirmed. He'd already gotten me so wet. I wanted him to touch my panties, I wanted him to notice my wetness for him, just like he had last night—I wanted to see how the sight and smell of my need for his body possessed him once more.
Ryan began to kiss and gently nibble his way up my inner thigh, slowly, tortuously, to my crotch—and then, cruelly, he skipped over my mound entirely, only to start the ritual over again at my other thigh.
“Please,” I gasped, my fist clenching at his bed sheets. “Please,please, I want you so bad.”
He glanced up at me with his sparkling eyes. “You waited this long. I want to take my time with you.”
“Oh my God …” I panted as a sudden rush of warmth soaked my panties.
At last, Ryan dug two fingers under the waistband of my panties and pulled. He dragged the intimates until they tumbled down and off my legs.
Ryan spread me apart with his powerful arms. “Damn, your pussy's so pink and wet, babe.” Tenderly, he began to lick at my heat. I placed my hands on his head, guiding him, and secretly adoring the sharp sensation of his short, prickly hair against my hands as he French-kissed my pussy.
Just like last night, Ryan reduced me to a whimpering, moaning puddle in a matter of minutes. And just like last night, I could only withstand a few strokes from his incredibly thick finger before he broke me. I screamed, a hip-quaking, limb-thrashing, toe-curling orgasm like I'd never had before.
Ryan knew how to bring me back to Earth—he fucked me with his finger, soothingly, lovingly. I was a breathless mess when it was over.
“I love your taste,” he said with a confident grin.
“What do I taste like?”
“You tell me.”
He mashed his mouth into mine and a wildfire blazed between us as we kissed. Sure enough, my taste lingered on his lips and tongue; a sharp, yet at the same time, pleasantly mellow musk. My stomach twisted into knots with the taboo: Ilovedmy taste on his mouth, withhisscent, withhistaste. It was naughty, butsoright, like no two things were ever made more perfect for each other.
