Page 44 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
Separating her by the knees and exposing her sopping pussy to me, I shove my achingly, stiff cock into her pussy in one thrust.
She kisses me, taking me by surprise—it’s so powerful and enchanting it drifts me away, clearing my lungs from air. Just like that, she does something that throws me off completely—she rests her forehead against mine and closes her eyes.
This moment is peaceful and all I want to do is to get lost within it. Within her.
I’m fully inside her and her wetness swallows me in. I don’t want it to end. I want to close up shop, lock the doors, throw away the keys, and stay here forever.
Dylan
I’maloosecannonof my sexuality.
I want more. I need more. And I’m ready to find more than the mediocrity I stumbled upon all these years. This is what sex should feel like. Full of passion.
Luka shows me there’s room for a wild sexual approach from both sides. But more than that—he showed me it can come with a genuine interest. Thinking about what he can do to me amplifies my sex drive.
The oven pings.
In unison, we dart our gaze toward it.
“I’ll get it out.” He pulls out of me and his absence is unbearable. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to get him back in.
Putting the pair of gloves on his hands, he places the pan on the counter next to me.
“What’s the next step?” He asks with a grin.
“Pour the glazing we made on top to make it soft and wet.” I guide him, wishing he would hurry up.
“Is that a code?” He side-eyes me in question, “Are you talking dirty to me?”
I shove at his shoulder playfully, “No!” Maybe… “Your mind is in the gutter all hours of the day?”
“Just when I’m with you,” he recalls.
I grin at that and my lady-bits buzz.
He wipes some chocolate syrup with his finger, sucking it between his lips. “Sweets are my weakness, wildflower.” He winks at me, “You should know.”
The boil in my cheeks starts instantly.
He inches closer, establishing my embarrassment.
In seconds he’s back inside me, his cock fills me to the brim. “I love to see the effect of my words on you.”
I gulp my saliva hard.
“Your heart beats faster when I’m near you.” He grips my throat. “I set the pace of your breathing.”
Yes, he does.
Our lips almost caressing.
“Your knees are weak and your pussy is fucking dripping.” He applies pressure around my throat, “I’ll leave some of the glaze to paint your skin.”
My face is stuck on his and I feel like I’m about to faint from all the rush that is flooding my system.
“Do you need incentives?” he wets his lips.
I try to infiltrate those murky wonders staring back at me. “What do you mean?”
