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“What do you?—?”
I tug down the front of her dress and expose her full breasts in the kitchen. Her nipples pucker in the cool air, instantly. “Oh my God,” she whimpers.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
I palm one of her breasts and pinch her nipple. She gasps and arches her back. My other hand slides over her torso, down to the hem of her skirt.
“Naughty girl,” I growl, and nip her throat, scratching it with my beard. “You’d better be wearing underwear.”
My hand slips between her legs, and I find her wet and quivering for me. So slick, I could slip inside her in the kitchen.
And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
I move her away from the oven, to the other side of the kitchen counter, and bend her over it, so that her tits press against the cold countertop.
I rip her dress up and over her hips, and she quivers and cries out.
“How bad do you want it, Princess?”
She swallows.
I trace the curves of her hips with my hands. “How bad?”
“So bad, Carter. I want you inside me. I need you to fill me up again.”
I slip my finger over her warm pussy, spreading her warm wetness toward her clit. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” she cries out.
I torture myself by fingering her slowly, by refusing to let myself taste her. It’s like I’m edging myself by giving her slow pleasure. I rub her clit and finger her pussy at the same time, standing behind her and watching the way she reacts. How she starts swirling her hips, getting so desperate for her release that she’s begging for it. Pleading. Both with her body and her mouth.
“You want to come, Princess?”
She smacks her hand down on the countertop. “Now. Give it to me now.”
I love that she’s demanding it.
I bend and suck her clit between my lips, and almost blow my load when she instantly comes on my face. Quickly, I pull back, remove my dripping cock from my pants and slide inside her. I enjoy the last pulses of her orgasm, and she arches into me as I slide in inch by inch.
“Carter, please. Please.”
“This is going to be fast, Princess,” I growl, and slap her ass, grab and squeeze it. “You’d better hold the fuck on.”
I pound into her, and she clings to the counter top. Shaking, her eyes rolling in her head, and unearthly fucking noises escaping her throat. I’m making her lose all sense of herself, but it’s nothing compared to the way she makes me feel.
Out of control, protective, happy.
I show her how I feel with every thrust, bringing us both closer to the edge. I press my hand into her hair, and tug on it.
She cries out. “Harder. Pull it harder.”
And I do, finding her clit with my free hand and working her at a slower pace until she comes again. This time, when she breaks, I go with her. We’re a breathless mess of arms and limbs. We’re late for the potluck. We’re totally fucking out of control when it comes to each other.
