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“Would you mind if I called you ‘India’? That is your name, isn’t it?”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t ready for that. I’m shaking my head, but I can’t speak. Even Ben, even most of my friends, call me ‘Indi.’ Mom called me ‘India,’ and very close friends.. And now I know why. It’s a way of keeping something precious back. Holding onto it for myself. For intimacies that so far I never had.
“No?” His voice is thin and dry. “I understand.”
I shake my head harder and make myself speak, though my throat is thick and wet. “I mean, ‘No, I don’t mind.’”
Buzzing, I put the glass into a holder. “I don’t let people call me that because I’m afraid to let them in. I want you to use my name. But please,” I put my hand on his, “be careful with me.” I never felt as bare and defenseless as I do when he searches my eyes.
I know what’s coming.
I say, “Wait… would you mind looking the other way?” His lips thin but he does what I ask him.
“Here,” I fish the USB stick out of my panties, where I hid it on the way to the house.
Handing him the wand, I tell him, “I took care of this for you.”
He smiles. “And I will take care of you. I promise.” His arms wrap me, and I’m lost in his kiss.
We kiss, and I lose all track of time. Nothing exists, nothing matters. Nothing but him. And me. Us.
He stays close and his voice is almost a whisper as he tells me, “I’ll be careful. But I’d be lying if I promised to be gentle.”
He pulls me closer. The fire in his eyes makes my heart pound.
“Don’t,” I tell him. “Please. Don’t be gentle.”
I think of the tango. Of him spinning me, dipping me. Taking, moving me, driving me wherever he wanted me to go. I think of him knocking Molloy out with one slam of his fist.
My head spins and fireworks crackle inside me as he kisses me, hard. Deep. His body lengthens. Presses against mine. His hands trace my curves. Pull me into him, pushing him into me.
He strokes and kisses my neck, squeezes my breasts. Runs his hands over my stomach. Grips my ass. Every touch makes me tremble and jump. Every part of my body winds and turns to press against every part of his.
When he runs his hands up my thighs, I sigh and moan and wrap my arms tight around him, raking his hair, pulling him in. Nearer. Harder.
He parts my thighs, and I feel the heat of his cock through the heavy fabric of his pants. I put a hand on him. Feel the swelling harden. It pulses and jumps, huge and hot in my hand.
His lips own me. His hands drive me. I want his cock to split me. But I’m afraid. It’s so thick. And so long.
But my hips know what they want. My mound rolls and rubs against his shaft. The thrilling rawness, the aching itch, lighting fires inside me. Driving me crazy with need.
“I need you, India.”
I squeeze him harder.
I stretch back, and my thighs open. “Take me, Adam.”
He lifts the gown, uncovering my thighs. This is where I expect things to take a turn for the worse. This is the moment I’m dreading, where he will see my massive cream and cake fed flesh and he’ll realize he got the wrong girl.
He groans. His voice is hoarse. “Damn, you’re beautiful, India.” He leans over me to kiss me again, and I melt into him, wrap my legs around him. Squeeze my breasts and my pussy against him. He rears up. The look in his face would melt stone, turn rock into bubbling lava. He bites his lip as he slides my lacy panties over my soft thighs and down. Off.
The cooler air on my naked pussy makes my swollen wet lips tremble. His strong hand lifting my ass makes me jump.
Chapter Eleven
Adam
I never knew flesh could be so beautiful. I have to kiss her fabulous thighs and lick her wonderful pussy. Her bud quivers. I flick the tip of my tongue over her. Her honey is thick and divine. I probe, and her soft folds part, then they pull on my tongue. She trembles and shakes as I squeeze her ass, with the length of my tongue forced deep inside her. I stretch to learn and feel her rhythms, map her responses.
