Grip Trilogy Box Set

“Changed your mind?” Her eyelids fall to half-mast over smoky gray eyes.

“You changed it for me,” I reply, tipping one side of my mouth. “Touching my pussy.”

“Your pussy?” A lift of her brows challenges my possessiveness.

I shrug and drop to my knees, putting my face on level with the pussy in question.

“You be the judge,” I say before lowering my head, widening her thighs with a press of my hands, then spreading her lips with my fingers and burying my tongue in her wetness.

We both groan.

There is nothing like this pussy. I run my nose along the slick slit before swiping my tongue through her juices.

“Oh, good Lord,” Bristol breathes, rolling her hips into my greedy mouth. “Fuck, yes, Grip. Don’t stop.”

To quote GRiZMATiK . . . as we proceed.

Two fingers plunge inside, and I suck on her clit. She bucks against my face and loops her long legs over my shoulders, digging her heels into my back. I tug until her ass hangs just off the bed and she’s supported by the grip I have on her thighs. I devour her, table manners discarded. Grunting, slurping. She comes once, and I want seconds.

“Grip, stop!” She gasps. “I can’t take . . . please.”

“Whose pussy is it, Bris?” I ask, biting one plump lip and then the other.

Silence. Stubborn woman makes this so much damn fun.

I apply my mouth with more enthusiasm, and then run my thumb through the wetness before plunging it into her ass to the knuckle.

“Ahhhhhh! Shit!”

Her scream pierces the quiet. With my thumb working her ass like a job, I reach up to cover her mouth.

“Whose pussy, Bris?” I demand, my tongue darting into one hole and my thumb fucking the other.

“Y-yours,” she mumbles under my hand, the word breath-starved and choppy. “It’s your pussy.”

I plunge my thumb in deeper until my palm touches her ass, and she bucks wildly, her hand gripping the back of my neck and holding me in place while she thrusts against my lips. Once the tremors racking her body die to twitches and her moans settle into tiny whimpers, I carefully lift her, taking her place on the edge of the bed and turning her to spread her thighs over mine. She snuggles into my neck, the scent of her skin and shampoo mingling with the sweet muskiness covering my face and coating her thighs.

“Holy shit,” she says, her deep-throated chuckle rumbling into the curve of my neck and shoulder. “I can’t think straight. Did you suck my brain out when you were down there?”

“Focus. I think you mentioned something about taking care of your husband.” It’s my turn to lean back on one elbow. I gesture to the briefs I’m still wearing and the obviously eager erection straining to get out and in.

“It’s all coming back to me.” She shoots me a mischievous glance from under long, curly la

shes.

“If it ‘comes’ any louder, you’ll wake the neighbors and the kids,” I warn her, my grin smug. “And the way I feel right now, Martin will just have to cry until Daddy’s done.”

“Ah, speaking of Martin,” she says, her smile and the look in her eyes devolving into something baser.

My dick gets even harder. She grins. She knows. She leans up and cups her breasts, her thumbs stroking the fat nipples.

“You can taste. It’s just us, Grip.”

She caresses her breasts in hypnotic circles, and I’m mesmerized by how the nipples peak and harden. I grip her back, my fingers meeting on her spine, and I pull her breasts to my face. They’re slightly damp when I pull one into my mouth and suck so hard that she draws a sharp breath above me, but I don’t stop. I find a rhythm, my mouth and tongue and teeth cooperating to get what I want. When a few drops of her milk hit my tongue, it drives us both into a frenzy.

“That is so fucking hot,” she gasps, scrambling to get my briefs down and off before she scoots as close as possible on my lap, the smooth skin of her thighs dragging over the rougher skin of mine.

She holds my cock in her hand, fisting it tight, pushing up and down, her thumb caressing the head.