Page 70 of Torrid Little Passion

Brady

Thank Godmy piece of shit car started. I've only had it out of storage for two days, and it's been giving me hell. It refused to start this morning, even after I spent a good part of last night changing the oil and replacing the spark plugs.

I'm never ready to put my bike away for the season, but it's not safe to navigate snowy roads on two wheels. Hell, with the way the last few Michigan winters have gone, it's not safe to navigate them on four wheels. The snow comes down in sheets, covering the roads, only for the temperature to rise just enough the next day to start melting it before dropping suddenly, causing a layer of ice to coat the blacktop.

Which is why my winter ride is a piece of shit. Because if I were to get in an accident, I wouldn't be sad about losing this car. It's fifteen-years-old, the paint is chipping, and a hole rusted through the muffler over the summer.

I'm surprised Mya didn't hear me coming with how loud it is. But the shock on her face is a clear indication she was unaware that I was storming the house.

Not that it took much effort.

The front door was unlocked.

No one was in the living room as I sprinted for the stairs.

And the upstairs hall was empty. If I hadn't heard music softly playing behind one of the doors I passed as I rushed to Mya's room, I would have thought the place was empty.

"What are you doing, dove?" My eyes flick to where her hand rests beneath the sheets as I close and lock her door behind me, toeing off my boots. I hadn't bothered to tie them as I sprinted out of my apartment. Julian hollered something after me, but I didn't stop to find out what he wanted.

When she doesn't answer, I reach for my belt, the clasp ringing as it falls to the floor next to my boots.

Mya's eyes widen as I take another step, pulling my t-shirt over my head and dropping it beside me. I hear soft vibrations the closer I stalk toward her, but I keep my eyes locked on hers, slowly stripping away the remainder of my clothes. When I reach the edge of her bed, I pinch the yellow sheet covering her between my thumb and forefinger, whipping it down.

That's when I see the red dildo vibrating in Mya's hand. It's resting at the entrance to her folds, glistening with her juices.

"Have you been thinking about me?" I ask, placing my hand on top of hers, pushing it inside her. It slides in with ease. The damn thing is small. Thin and short. Still, my girl is wet and ready. Her clit is engorged, and my cock is aching to be inside her.

Releasing her hand, I watch as Mya continues to move the dildo in and out of her pussy, her eyes locked on mine. When her hand reaches out for my cock, the groan that slips past my lips is primal.

I need her now.

Snatching the vibrator out of her hands, I toss it across the room, not bothering to turn it off. I can hear the soft vibrations against the carpet as I tug Mya's legs further apart, settling at her entrance.

"Would you rather have the real thing?" I ask as I press my tip through her folds, her walls clenching around me.

"God, yes," she moans, covering her mouth when she realizes how loud she was.

My girl is vocal. I hadn't realized it until the last time we were together. And she likes it when I talk dirty to her. Especially while I'm inside her. Which I also enjoy very much.

Pressing into the hilt, Mya screams into her hands as I bottom out. I've been on the verge of blowing for the last hour. The feel of her warm pussy strangling my cock is enough to push me over the edge long before I'm ready.

"Is this what you wanted?" I ask, pulling out to the tip and thrusting all the way back in. "Or do you prefer that tiny little red thing?"

"You, I prefer you," she cries as I slam into her again, her words muffled in her hands.

"That's. What. I. Thought." I punctuate each word with a deep thrust. I feel the tingling sensation in my balls, working its way up my cock, and I can't hold back anymore.

Flipping Mya over, she kneels on the bed in front of me, her face in her pillow, and I slam into her from behind. I feel her go liquid around me, and two pumps later, I follow her over the edge. But I can't stop sliding through her folds. I want to live here. I want to die here.

So I keep thrusting, gently, my cock softening. When Mya reaches between us and gives my balls a squeeze, I slam into her. Her moan has my body vibrating the same way her damn dildo is still doing somewhere across the room. My cock lengthens inside her, and suddenly I'm slamming into her again and again, gripping her hips and pulling them back, attempting to slide deeper.

"Brady, I'm close again." She struggles to get the words out as I reach around and find her clit, pinching it before rubbing in circles the way I know she needs.

"Let go, dove. I'll be here to catch you."

Her roar is muffled by the pillow, but it was still loud. There's no doubt everyone in the house heard her and will be asking questions in the morning.

Fully spent, I flop down on the mattress next to Mya and roll her into my arms, tucking her under my chin, our bodies perfectly aligned. I could slip inside her from this angle. It would be as easy as wrapping her leg around my thigh.

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