Page 89 of Thug

“Give me your hand,” I said in the roughest voice I could muster.

He held his hand between us. “Here.”

I shoved it into my shorts. “Feel that?”

He grazed my entrance with his fingertip. My entire body shuddered in response.

“Jesus,” he said. “You’re soaked.”

I pressed my hand against his crotch. He was as hard a rock. “You’re not much better off, Mister.”

“I warned you,” he said. “All you’ve got to do is look at me.”

I squeezed his stiff cock through his jeans. “Now that we’re official or whatever, can I get this dick any time I want?”

“Absolutely.” He slid a finger inside me. “Can I—”

“Yes,” I blurted. “Whenever you want.”

“I want it,” he said. “Right now.”

My hands were a blur. My shorts hit the floor like a two-ton weight. I peeled off my panties and tossed them aside.

“Jesus,” he said, looking at how far I’d thrown them. “What was that about?”

“They’re soaked,” I said, reaching for the hem of my shirt. “I didn’t want one of us to step on them. We might slip and fall.”

I tossed my shirt and then my bra. His gaze fell to my tits. I loved the way he looked at them. It was like he’d never seen one before. I felt amazingly beautiful while his gaze lingered for what seemed like nothing short of eternity.

He unbuckled his belt. “Brace yourself on this.” He pushed his pants down a little. His cock sprung free. “You won’t have to worry about falling.”

I stared at it for a moment, admiring its symmetry. “You’ve got a pretty dick,” I cooed.

“Did we ever decide who’s in charge of this mess?” he asked.

“What mess?”

“Us.”

“When we’re fucking, you are.” I laughed. “Other than that, it’s me.”

Seeming mildly amused by my response, he lifted me from my feet and carried me to the bar. “We’ll see about that.” He plopped me down on my ass like he was putting a child in his highchair. “Spread your legs.”

Complying with a command like that one was easy. Like an overeager wife on Valentine’s Day, I spread my legs so wide I feared I’d dislocate a hip.

He gripped my ass in his hands and buried his head between my legs. His tongue flicked against my clit. A tingle ran up my spine, causing me to tense. He inserted a finger. I arched my back, forcing myself against his willing mouth. In response, he buried his tongue deeper.

I’d never been so turned on in my life. Selfishly seeking a memorable climax while flat on my back beside the beer taps, I bucked like a wild horse. Each time I thrust my swollen pussy against his face, he buried his tongue deep between my wet folds.

Like choreographed dancers, we maintained perfect rhythm. An indiscernible amount of time passed. During one of his tongue against the clit exercises, my body began to quake. Not knowing what else to do with my hands, I reached for Price’s head. I raked my fingers deep into his thick locks. With a fistful of his hair in each hand, I fucked his mouth like I was mad at him.

Like a rocket on a mission, my state of bliss shot out of the earth’s atmosphere and into space. Unprepared for such an earth-shattering orgasm, I clenched his hair tight in my hands and shuddered from head to toe. When my ability to reason returned, I was a limp pile of naked flesh spread out on the bar like a buffet.

He wasted no time throwing one of his legs over the edge of the bar. Once at my side, he stood. “You ready for this?”

Assuming he was asking about me sensitivity regarding his scars, I nodded. “I am.”

He lifted the hem of his shirt. Flat on my back and peering up at him, my eyes went wide as soon as it cleared his torso.