Page 22 of Twisted Ties
She waves her hands and my clothes vanish into thin air. She giggles at her little trick, although it soon dies on her lips, as she lets her gaze swim over me like mine had done hers.
“I hope you can return those clothes, sweetheart. The shirt was expensive.”
She isn’t listening to me. She’s reaching out to touch me instead, letting her warm hands swim down the contours ofmy chest, over my abdomen, following the line of fuzz to my stiff cock.
“I’m going to make you come first, this time. It’ll feel better.”
“For who?” she says with suspicion.
“You.”
Again she opens that mouth of hers, to speak her mind, but I grab her ass and walk her back to the bed, slowly lowering her onto the surface.
“You want my tongue again, sweetheart?” I ask her, sweeping around the shell of her ear. Her breath hitches. “Or my fingers this time?”
She doesn’t respond and I decide I want to watch her face when she comes, so I open her legs and stroke my fingers through her folds. She’s already obscenely wet, her heart thumping in her chest, her emotions scorching hot through the bond.
Fuck, this is addictive. She is addictive.
I circle her clit achingly slow until her legs tremble violently and she’s pleading with me for more. I wonder where I find the restraint not to roll on top of her. But I find it, bringing her close to the brink, then denying her that pleasure. Doing it again and again, until her hands are tight around my wrist, her fingernails digging deep into my flesh and she’s spitting at me like a little hell cat. Then I can’t resist. I bend my head down and kiss her pussy, sucking on her until she comes into my mouth, my fingers sliding into her cunt and feeling the way her pussy convulses and quivers.
“Oh god,” she screams, “oh god!” She hangs on to me for dear life and then it’s her scrambling at my body, attempting to drag me on top of her. Begging for more. Begging for my cock. A cock she’s only had once before.
“You want it, you come and get it,” I say, flopping back on the mattress. She looks at me with a frown. “What are you waiting for?”
“I … I don’t know what I’m–”
“Come and sit on my cock,” I growl. She glances down at it. Hard, stiff, waiting for her. Her eyes darken and she rolls onto her hands and knees and crawls across the bed towards me.
I let out a long, drawn-out groan. She’s curvier than she was. All pink, soft, warm flesh. Her dark hair falling over one shoulder. She’s far more delicious than she realizes. How the hell did I keep my hands off her for this long?
She halts alongside me and I half expect her to slap my face. Instead, she hesitates.
“Come on. Sit on me.”
She leans over me, resting her hands on my chest and swings one leg over my body, her pussy hovering above my cock. All pink and pretty and wet.
I reach up and take her hips in my hands.
“Looks like we’re back here,” I say, thinking of that night in the clearing.
“I want you inside me,” she says, sounding way more whiny than a girl who’s only just been broken in deserves to.
I take my cock in my hand, and she wriggles her ass, lining herself up.
She goes to lower herself down onto me and I stop her.
“Slowly,” I growl. “I want to watch.”
She whimpers and it takes considerable strength to prevent her from slamming down; instead I guide her gently, watching as that precious cunt, my mate’s cunt, swallows me up.
I groan. She’s so tight. So warm. So soft.
She lowers down further until she’s sitting right on top of me like a princess on her throne.
“That looks good,” I say.
Her bottom lip trembles and color swims across her skin.
