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Right now, at this moment, I’m more confident than any woman alive. I grind my ass against his face, and he groans, a muffled yes coming from between my legs, but then it’s over. I’m left with a swirling mess of confusion in my mind. He stands, reaching down for his belt.
“Good,” he snarls, his eyes glazed as though possessed, as though his only desire is to be with me. “Your pussy’s soaked now. Time to take my cock. Every fucking inch, Jane.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Luke
I pull my pants down, my cock springing free.
Her eyes do that cute-as-hell, snapping, wide-open thing, her mouth falling open as she takes in my thick, hard length. Precome clings to my end, which means I’ll be able to slip into her slickly, but then she reaches down and pulls up her shorts.
“What the hell are you doing?” she snaps.
I thought before that I should be able to read my woman. I can now see that she’s hiding something. I sense there’s a reason for her sudden change in mood that goes deep. There’s something she’s afraid to tell me, but I’m too far gone to think about soft things. My body is too solid, my length surging with come.
“What does it look like?” I snarl. “I’ve tasted your perfect hole. Now it’s time for you to take it. Every inch.”
“You can’t just… Is that how you think it works?” she snaps, her voice getting loud. “Is this what you do? Find down-on-their-luck women, offer them some kindness, lie to them, and then fuck them? What happens after? Do you throw them out on the street?”
“I told you I don’t want to talk about anybody else.”
“No, you said I shouldn’t talk about other men. What about your women?”
“I’m too fucking hard for this,” I almost roar. “I need you.”
“Need me?” she whispers.
I step forward, my cock still in my hand. A dollop of precome slips from my tip and glides toward the floor.
“I. Need. You. I’m going to explode. If you can’t give me that tasty pussy, you need to show me those perfect tits.”
“Has anybody ever told you that you’re sort of scary?”
There’s another change in her tone and a soft smile on her lips. She’s making my head spin.
“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” I rasp.
“You’re not going to make me have sex with you?”
I almost throw something, not at her, to relieve some of the rage.
“I’d never make you do anything. Jesus Christ, what kind of man do you think I am?”
“Um, a man who turned into an animal at the drop of a hat? A man who can go from a conversation one second to full-on beast mode the next?”
“If I were in beast mode, as you describe it, I’d carry you to the couch, throw you down, and then come all over your body.”
She folds her arms, pouting at me. “As long as we don’t have to have sex, then give it your best shot.”
I don’t like how she’s talking about sex, as if it’s an obligation for her, but I tasted her creamy, sopping slit. I felt her lust pulsing through her body toward the end. A thought occurs to me, but I’m more interested in what she just said. She squeals when I dart forward, lifting her off her feet. She throws her arms around me.
“I’ve never been picked up before,” she whispers.
“You need to decide if you’re mad or excited,” I tell her, walking from the kitchen and heading into the living room, my rock-hard dick bouncing. “Windows, dark. Lights, mood lighting.” The floor-to-ceiling windows fade to black at the exact moment the lights turn on.
“Wow, fancy,” she says. “Anyway, can’t I be both mad and excited?”
I lay her down on the couch, and my woman takes the initiative, pulling her shirt over her head and reaching around, unclipping her bra. She does it quickly, as though nerves are threatening to stop her, and she has to do it fast.
I don’t have time to think about this. I’m too busy staring at her breasts, curvaceous as the rest of her with nipples looking needy and horny.
These belong to me, I almost say, when I lean down and take her tits in my hands. Only I get to touch them.
“What are you doing?”
I can barely breathe. My thoughts are clouded, and my head is hazy. My only objective is the woman sitting beneath me.
“I’m going to fuck your big, sexy tits. I’m going to make them jiggle for me.”
“Jiggle?” she murmurs. “Is that an insult?”
“Your size is part of what makes you so irresistible. It’s not an insult. Stop being so damn suspicious.”
She bites her lip, nodding. “You’re really hard.”
“It’s you. You make me crazy.”
She laughs intoxicatingly. “Ditto.”
I slip my shaft between her voluptuous tits and then rock back and forth, driving my shaft up between her soft, addicting breasts. She moans and shifts with me, not like she’s done it before, but more like she’s responding to my movements. I don’t think she’s done anything before. Is it bad that it turns me on even more?
