I open my mouth and taste her, finding her tongue and stroking it with mine. She pants and moans against me, her own desire lighting up inside of her. My manhood floods and I grind closer to her, growling savagely when she bites my lip.
“Oh,” she murmurs, breaking off the kiss, staring at me wide-eyed with a torturous mixture of cuteness and sassy self-confidence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite you.”
“You never have to apologize to me,” I growl. “But I might have to apologize for this.”
“For what—”
She squeals as I reach down and lift her, cradling her against my chest, squeezing onto her ass cheeks and her thighs and feeling the juicy meatiness of her in my hands.
In my hands, where she fucking belongs.
My manhood flames and tries to explode, a solid rod of heated need.
“I need you alone, in private,” I snarl. “I need to taste you, Kat. Fucking hell, all I’ve been able to think about since you walked into my office is tasting you. Feeling you cream and come in my mouth, feeling your pussy get tight and needy for me.”
“Hey.” She pouts, and the gesture sends a tremor through my body right to my cock. “Who said I was going to be needy, hmm?”
“We’ll see, then,” I snarl.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers. “I thought you hated me.”
“Hated you?” I say, squeezing onto her harder, letting my hands sink into the sultry temptation of her voluptuous flesh, her ass cheeks driving my thoughts into feral corners. “How could you think that for a second?”
“You were grimacing at me endlessly,” she giggles. “But now I guess I know they weren’t grimaces, huh?”
“Oh, they were,” I tell her firmly. “They were just grimaces of passion. Now let’s get you upstairs before I lose all control and take you right here like the fucking savage I am. And before you say – because I know you’re a consummate professional – Scrappy has a side entrance all of his own so he can come indoors whenever he wants.”
Her face lights up at that, a beautiful sight, but then I can’t wait any longer and I carry her through the house, down the hallways – decorated in a minimalist style – and into my bedroom. I kick the door open and then shoulder it closed behind me, holding her all the while.
The moment the door clicks shut, I feel waves of heat moving through her, as though her body – her womb, it’s her greedy womb – is telling her to get ready for what comes next.
I carry her to the bed – minimalist, silk sheets, everything in here is Spartan, befitting a SEAL – and then place her down.
She makes a whimpering noise that goes straight to the base of my length as I drink her in with my gaze, staring, staring hard and savagely and with possessive certainty swelling inside of me.
She lies on her back and props herself up on her elbows, looking up at me with her stark blue eyes, a luscious contrast with the wavy messiness of her deep oaken air.
My gaze moves to her thighs, thick and strong and so juicy I could spend hours just biting them, seeing my lips leave their mark on her creamy flesh.
“Fuck,” I growl, falling to my knees at the end of the bed and then grabbing her, pulling her toward me, feeling like I’m in a dream, in a fantasy.
But this is real.
And she’s mine.
I grab her shorts and pull them down, and then, oh God, and then her panties get tangled in the shorts and everything comes sliding down her thighs.
Her pussy is pink and already glistening wetly, her hole fluttering a little for me as I regard the absolute fucking perfection of it.
Her lips quiver with her anticipation, and her clit is already an engorged red nub, begging for my touch.
My cock pulses and tremors as though an earthquake is twisting through my body, pounding, rending.
“God, you’re perfect,” I snarl. “I need to taste you. Tell me, Kat. Tell me you want me to taste you.”
“I—I’ll sound silly,” she whispers, turning her face to the side.
“You won’t,” I growl, her shyness sounding yet another quivering note of possession inside of me. “You’ll sound fucking perfect. You’ll sound like what you are, a horny angel getting ready to cream all over my mouth.”
I see her pussy flutter at that, her legs twitching, goosebumps appearing on the flesh of her thighs.
“I want it,” she whispers, and then a moan sounds behind the whisper and she raises her voice. “Oh, Colton, it’s true. I want you to taste me. P-please.”
“My fucking pleasure,” I breathe huskily, and then lean forward, each moment bringing me closer to the tangy scent of her soaked pussy.
I pause when I’m less than an inch from her, my hands buried in her thighs, feeling the excitement and nervousness quiver through her, a cousin to the primal quaking moving through me.