Poison

Yes. I knew it.

Yes. That’s why I was there.

I let out my first desperate little moan as I turned to face him. His mouth was waiting. Open and fierce and wet.

My lips pressed to his, but his tongue was already set to take mine. It pushed in deep and danced a beautiful dance as his fingers gripped my face and held me tight.

And there it was. That simmer deep inside that you can’t fake or substitute. That heavenly desire that buzzes right through you and lifts you to your toes.

He did that to me.

He always had.

And I needed it right now.

I grabbed onto his hair and kissed him like my whole world depended on it. Like he was my salvation. My saviour and destroyer both at once. Enough to drive me out of my mind and lap it up in an orgy of the purest sin.

He was panting now, and there was that smirk of his I knew so well and loved so much, his mouth barely breaking contact.

“You’d better be ready to show me what a filthy little slut you still are.”

“Make me one,” I hissed right back. “Fucking take me.”

He bit my lip hard enough that I whimpered, then he snarled and shunted me backwards. I didn’t know where I was going, and didn’t have a care. There was only his kiss, his hands, and the strength of him. His chest was every bit as firm as he’d ever been. The swell of his cock was high against my belly.

My eyes were wide and I’m sure I shrieked when he lifted me up onto his dining table and slammed my ass down. He tossed the chairs away with a clatter and was right up and at me, his mouth right back on its attack.

His hands were masters as they tore my dress down and yanked my horny little tits from my bra. My nipples were every bit as hungry as the rest of me, tight and straining for his mouth before he’d even broken it from mine.

“Good little slut,” he growled, and spat on his fingers. He pinched my nipples slick, and his eyes were on mine – that mottled hazel green I knew so well – that fatally filthy stare that had always sent me wild.

He knew what I was going to say before I said it. My voice sounded pathetic as the words came out of me.

“Do it, Lucas. Make it hurt.”

“My fucking pleasure,” he said.

I rocked back on my arms, tits offered up and legs spread wide as he lowered his face. His hands gripped tight enough that I sucked in a breath, well aware that he’d drive my tits to such sore tenderness they’d sing their thrills for days. His lips were a vice, his teeth nipping and pulling, and I was lost as I bucked up against him.

“More!” I begged, and he gave it.

His fingers twisted, and his mouth clamped tight, and I was squirming as he sucked my tit so hard. My grab was fierce on his scalp, my legs wrapped around him tight. He dribbled and drooled and spat all over me. He rubbed his dirty wet spit all over my skin and teased my nipples with the very tip of his tongue when he wasn’t hurting me. Tender and brutal, tender and brutal. A seesaw that had me dazed and giddy.

His palms skirted up my thighs and my clit was already going crazy. My knickers were soaked, pussy tingling underneath as he lowered his mouth and licked his way down there.

He hitched me forward on the table, and I shuddered.

He let me feel the heat of his breath through the lace, and I tipped my head back on a moan.

“I’ve been looking forward to tasting this slick little cunt of yours,” he said, and my cheeks burned up.

“Please…”

I squirmed forward but he didn’t give me his mouth. I knew he was smirking in denial without even looking at him. I could feel it. Feel him.

“Please…” I said again. “I need this…”

“So do I,” he said, and reached up to slam me flat on the table.

My back arched the moment he buried his face into my sopping knickers. He knew every groove, every spot, every slick thrill there to drag from me. It came flooding back, the passion and the thrum and the zinging pulse of my pussy, and he had me. He had me so fast that I was already murmuring by the time he pulled the fabric aside and spread my lips so wide my clit was bare for the taking.

So many years of faking a half genuine orgasm. So many years of feigning the moans, but with him they were all real. His instincts were sharp and always on point. He lapped and sucked in perfect rhythm, taking hold of my clit and coaxing the waves. Pure. Fucking. Mastery.