Page 111 of Penalty Kiss
I lift my head, my mouth wet from her skin, and smirk. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’ll come when I decide.”
Her eyes darken, her mouth parts. She likes it when I take control.
I watch her as I shove her shorts down, tearing her panties with one impatient pull. The sound of fabric ripping is loud in the quiet kitchen, a symphony of my desperation. She shudders, her breath hitching in her throat.
“Spread your thighs,” I command, my voice hoarse with need.
She obeys instantly, her thighs reveals she’s already wet and dripping for me. I lean in to smell her deeply, and her embarrassment turns to into wonton heat.
I slide two fingers through her wetness, a groan rumbling in my chest at the feel of her, so ready, so eager. Her arousal coats my skin, thick and warm, the scent of her mingling with the sharp tang of fresh paint in the air. I press deeper, parting her folds with deliberate slowness, savoring the way she trembles beneath my touch.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice vibrating. I drag the wetness up to circle her clit, slow and relentless, like a potter shaping clay. “Messy on my counter. Paint all over your cheek. You’re still the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her hips jerk, chasing the pressure, but I press my palm against her stomach, holding her down. I thrust two fingers inside her again, curling until I feel the sweet spot, until her cry bounces off the tile backsplash, a melody of her desperation. The tight, wet clasp of her inner muscles around my fingers makes my cock ache. I add a third finger, stretching her slowly, feeling the flutter of her walls as she clenches around me. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, her body arching despite my restraint.
“That’s it. Ride my hand. Show me how badly you need me.”
She’s panting, her nails clawing at the countertop for leverage, and the sight of her unraveling makes me feral. I drop to my knees, the cold tile biting into my skin, but I barely feel it.
I'm consumed by her, by the need to taste her, to devour her. I shove her legs wider, hooking her knees over my shoulders, spreading her open until she’s utterly exposed. The heat radiating from her core is dizzying—musky and sweet, a scent that bypasses thought and goes straight to my primal brain. My tongue traces a slow, torturous path from the base of her entrance up to her swollen clit. She whimpers, a high, broken sound that tightens my balls.
Every flick of my tongue over her clit makes her convulse. My cock jerks with every sound she gives me, demanding to be inside her, but I hold back. I want her shaking apart on my tongue first.
Her fingers twist in my hair, yanking, begging. I press my face harder against her, tongue plunging deep, curling against those velvet walls as they flutter and spasm. She’s close—so close I can feel the tremors starting low in her belly, vibrating against my mouth. Her moans break into sobs, desperate, pleading for release.
“Cam, please—” she begs. “I need you inside of me now.’
“You have no idea whatyoudo to me,” I rasp, voice rough as gravel. My hand curls into her hip, before finding her clit again. “You sound so sexy, panting and mewing as you get more and more aroused.”
I rub her clit faster. “You make me so hard. Wanna see what I’ve got for you?’
She’s shaking, eyes glassy, and that shudder in her core is driving me wild.
‘Say you’re mine,” I growl. “Say it.”
“I’m yours, Cam,” she whimpers, breathless, and it’s enough. I let the frantic knot of need unspool.
I stand, my body tense with anticipation, the ache in my cock a near-painful throb. I unzip my jeans, freeing myself. The blunt head presses against her wet heat, and I grind against her clit, making her gasp.
“See how excited I am for you, love?” I fist my cock, thick and leaking for her, stroking slow just to watch her pupils blow wide. “This is what you do to me. You like knowing this big cock is yours—stretching you, filling you until you can’t take anymore?”
“Look,” I grind against her again. “I’m right here, knocking at your sweet little entrance.”
She claws at my forearms, hips jerking, trying to take me inside, but I hold back, keeping the swollen crown lodged against her tight opening. The catch of resistance makes my cock throb, and a bead of my precum mixes with her wet heat, smearing over both of us.
“You feel that?” I growl, my voice low, rumbling like a storm about to break. “That’s me—hard, aching, ready to tear you open.”
“You want it?” I ask, my voice low, rough, a rumble of distant thunder.
“Yes,” she gasps, frantic and breathless, her hips lifting off the counter, trying to impale herself.
“Say it.”
“I want you, I want your cock, Cam. All of you,” she pleads, her eyes wild and desperate, locked on mine. “Now. Please, now.”
That’s all I need. I slam into her with one hard, deep thrust, burying myself to the hilt. We both cry out, a raw symphony of relief and desperate need.
She’s tight, impossibly so, gripping me like a velvet vice, her inner walls fluttering wildly around my invading length.
