BEAST IN MY BED
His hands stroked down my sides to my ass and he pressed his groin against my aching crotch. “Tell me that you don’t want me. Say that you don’t want me to fuck you tonight.” He guided my hips while grinding his steel-solid penis against me. God, it was searing hot even through our clothes.
I surrendered with a moan. I kissed him deep and hard, demanding his passion with each flick of my tongue.
The man was a beast.
“The Big Bad Wolf is going to taste Little Red tonight,” he said against my ear as he began to lead me across the dance floor.
In a few minutes we were outside and he called for his limo. I had stopped by my table on the way out to tell the girls I was going home with the wolfman, and he’d given me the hotel address to pass on-freely, which made me feel a bit better, less nervous.
Inside the limo, which smelled lightly of his cologne, he held me to his side. It wasn’t dominating, more like cherishing. I liked it.
The night was turning out to be everything I could hope for. But it wasn’t exactly perfect. If he were fucking me right now, then it would be perfect. Yeah, I’m not afraid to admit it to myself. It’s the saying-it-out-loud part that’s the problem.
Maybe if I laid my hand on his cock…
Boo-ya! Can we say el grande? I couldn’t help cheering (even if just in my head) for the cannon-sized penis beneath my hand. Holy crap, did they make jock-straps big enough to hold that monster? Damn.
Taking the hint-or the blatant gesture-he began to touch me. I was on edge already, waiting for his hands to glide across my skin. He placed a hand upon my thigh and felt his way upward. I was glad I wore thigh-high nylons for easy access to my pussy-which at this point was red hot and scorching for relief. As his hand brushed the wet crotch of my panties, I yelped and bucked in his arms.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he moaned as he lowered himself to the floor of the limo. With his head between my knees, I cursed the fact I’d worn panties. But he remedied that problem with one swipe of his hand. They tore off me in a worthless scrap of lace.
He began to nibble the inside of my thigh. Slowly, he traced the top of one of my thigh-highs with his fingers. I gasped as he pulled at the lacey edge, lowering it so his lips could kiss my uncovered flesh.
His tongue gently licked at my skin and I dipped my fingers into his thick black hair, urging him to quicken his pace, to get to my weeping center. I wanted his mouth on my clit something fierce. I understand the allure of drawing out the moment and all, but fuck, I didn’t want to wait. Hell, I have a hard time holding off my orgasm when I use my bullet, never mind a gorgeous guy’s face between my legs.
Then, as if reading my mind (or perhaps it was the less-than-gentle tugging on his hair), he paused over my pussy. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my mound, and when he spread my labia wide with his fingers I sank into the seat, letting myself surrender to the moment. As my clit rose from beneath its hood, I sighed.
He moaned in response and lowered his mouth over the small nubbin. He didn’t seduce me into surrender, slow and languid. No, he went for the gold. The suction upon my clit was fierce, a pleasurable pain. A quick swipe of his tongue over my flesh and I cried out. My hips had a life of their own, bucking like a wild, untamed bronco.
He devoured me. Breaking his mouth’s hold on my clit, he nibbled and teased, then moved on to my entrance. There’s nothing like a skilled tongue. And this guy was a pro. He drank the juices that seeped from my body, lapping at my sweet-smelling sex honey.
Sex honey? I know, kinda corny. But what else do you call the juice that runs out of you like a mini flood? I mean, men go wild over the taste, and some women too. Cum seems dirty, bringing to mind a sticky substance that gets all over the bed, leaving someone to sleep in a wet spot. Love juice just seems…silly. So what do I call something that Greg’s lapping up as if it were his last meal?
Yeah, baby, suck it up.
posted Tuesday, February 5th, 2008 | filed under Ellora's Cave, Marianne LaCroix, Sizzle of the Week
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