Tamed (Tangled 3)

My eyes roll closed. I grunt and I curse and I beg for more. Dee doesn’t disappoint—plunging me in and out of her heavenly f**king mouth over and over. But when she takes my balls in her hand—rolling, rubbing them, tugging in the most delectable way—I have to put the brakes on. I’m afraid I may blow my load—and I’ve got way too many ideas for that to happen now.

I grasp a handful of her hair and ease her off. Then I lean down and kiss her as blood pounds in my eardrums. She lays back and takes me with her until we’re stomach-to-stomach, thigh-to-thigh. I rip at the remaining fabric of her tube top and yank it down, revealing two plump, gorgeously full tits.

And on one, is a winking diamond piercing.

Holy mother of f**k.

My c**k grows harder, weeping at the sight. I attack her br**sts like a gluttonous animal—sucking and biting, grasping and tugging with my hands. My mouth covers her pierced nipple, tasting cold metal and warm flesh. I pull at it with my teeth and lap it with my tongue. Dee writhes and whimpers below me, scratching my back with her nails, leaving scalding, sensuous gouges in their wake.

“Fuck me, Matthew,” Dee wails. “I need you to f**k me, now.”

In a flash, I retrieve a condom from my wallet and roll it on in record time. Holding her ankles, I pull her to me, so her ass is at the edge of the bed. I drag the head of my dick over her needy pu**y, teasing at the opening.

Then I look her in the eyes and ask, “How . . . how do you want it?”

“Hard,” she moans. “Hard and deep. I want to feel every f**king inch of you inside me.”

I thrust inside harshly, as deep as I can. Dee’s back bows off the bed and she screams, “Yes! Please . . . yes.”

I pull out slowly, until just the head remains in her, then I push back in, circling my hips, rubbing against her clit when I’m buried balls-deep.

This is lust at its finest—primal passion, visceral hunger.

I keep the pace Dee craves, f**king the breath out of her with every thrust. Until she’s reaching for me, begging for faster. I cover her with my body, and she wraps her arms around my neck, tasting my mouth as I drive into her furiously.

Her cheek is pressed against mine when she comes—eyes closed, crying my name over and over, a phenomenal sound that I’ll never forget. And as her orgasm clenches my cock, I come too—so exquisitely long and hard, I’m pretty sure I blacked the hell out.

It’s amazing. Groundbreaking. Easily the greatest sex of my life. And while I’m still inside her, before my heartbeat is able to relax, I know that Dee Warren is like no other woman who has ever come before.

After we get our breaths back, Delores gets up and disappears into the bathroom then exits a few minutes later wearing a multicolored, paisley, silk robe. I grab my pants off the floor, fish out the pack of cigarettes from my pocket, and ask her, “Do you mind?”

She opens a window, then retrieves a half-smoked joint from the wooden jewelry box on her dresser. She holds it up. “Smoke ’em if you got ’em.”

I lay my head back on one bent arm and light up. Dee slides into the bed beside me, putting an ashtray on my chest as she tokes up. Her robe falls open, exposing her magnificently pierced breast. I blow out a line of smoke and run my finger around the ring.

“What’s the story behind this?”

She inhales deeply, smoke escaping her lips as she tells me, “Remember how I told you Billy, Kate, and I grew up together?”

I nod.

“Billy’s the youngest, only by a few months. When he turned twenty-one, we all got trashed celebrating. Kate and Billy had tattoos done. I got pierced.”

I tug gently on the ring, touching and testing it out like a kid with a new toy on Christmas morning. “It’s sexy as hell. But I’m curious, why didn’t you get a tattoo?”

She snuffs out the dead bud in the ashtray. “Tattoos are too much of a commitment. I don’t like having anything on—or in—my body that I can’t get rid of.”

I put out my smoke and move the ashtray to the bedside table. Then I turn on my side to face Dee.

Her hand trails down my stomach and wraps around my cock, brushing her thumb across the foreskin. “What’s the story behind this? I thought all Catholics had to be cut?”

“I think that’s Judaism.” Then I explain, “I was a sickly newborn—nothing major, but enough for my mother to be wary of anything that might’ve caused an unnecessary complication.”

For some insane reason, my parents assumed I’d have a circumcision performed when I was a strong, healthy adult. Like I would ever—ever—let a scalpel anywhere near my dick unless my life depended on it.

And maybe not even then.

Yes, in case you’re wondering, there were a few girls in high school who were slightly . . . unsure about how to proceed with a non–cookie cutter cock. But once they took it for a test ride and realized it works the same as all the other models, it was in high demand.

She continues to stroke me until I’m hard and hot in her hand. Then she looks down and says, “I like it. It’s pretty.”

I grip Delores’s hips, roll onto my back, and lift her over me so she’s straddling my waist. “Okay, you officially suck with adjectives. Pussies are pretty, not dicks.”

Her robe falls fully open and I lick my thumb then press it to her clit to show her just how pretty I think her pu**y is. Fucking gorgeous.

Dee starts with a giggle but ends with a breathy moan. “Enlighten me. What adjective is suitably masculine for a mighty dick?”