When We Dance

That’s what makes this so confusing and addictive.

He pulls out of my mouth, his cock dripping with wetness, and moves down while I fall to my back.

I’m his… That’s what he wanted, didn’t he?

I no longer see his eyes, but I feel his touch and relish the pleasure.

He squeezes and sucks on my boobs, leaves a long trail of open-mouth kisses on my stomach, slides my legs over his shoulders, and presses his mouth against my opening.

I snap into a perfect arch, my chest up, my shoulders down, hoarse moans falling from my lips.

He doesn’t spare me.

He doesn’t take me shyly. He eats me out like it’s the only way to keep me alive.

He likes to lick and penetrate me, part my folds with his tongue and suck on my clit, drink my juices, and stroke my already sensitive flesh until I squirm, my hips rocking against his face of their own volition.

I move fast to the peak and get frustrated and deliciously demanding.

“Alejandro…” I chant through panted breaths. “Alexandro…”

Eyes closed, I tug at my restraints, writhing until he pins my hips down and makes it impossible for me to move from the waist down.

I flick my eyes open and tilt my head up so I can see him… And I do… And I quickly learn I shouldn’t do that.

My legs are open against his face, his head moving between my thighs, his strokes making it impossible not to come. I’m getting closer… and closer… My body becoming tenser and tenser… My brain buzzing with chemical messages coming from every corner of my body.

His muscular back and arms are in plain view. All I want is him on me.

But he won’t come to me until I’m done. And even if he wants to come, it’s too late right now.

I feel the pleasure creeping up my body, intensifying between my legs. It’s all in his hands. Or should I say it’s up to his mouth…. His lips and tongue, the pressure he masterfully uses to make me sprint those few last steps until I feel high.

It hits me hard, making me fall back, shake my body, rock my hips, moan desperately, and push the back of my head into the pillow.

He doesn’t stop, and that’s the thing. I can’t stop either. I become more impatient, angrier, more hungry, and more agitated.

My voice is more demanding when I call his name.

He pushes up and watches my personal hell for a few seconds. His knees on either part of me, his chest heaving, his fingers sliding through his hair, a crooked smirk on his lips.

His muscular body is an artist’s dream, his big cock pointing forward. Heavy, made of steel.

He loves it…

He likes watching me fight for my freedom.

“Tell me what you want…” he tosses in a husky tone, still panting.

“I won’t.”

He laughs, the grin on his face making him even more charming and sexy and irresistible.

“That’s my girl. Stubborn as fuck,” he says, leaning forward and propping himself on his hands while tilting his head down.

I push mine up to meet his lips and flick my legs up in the air to loop them around his waist and pull him down on me.

He chuckles and breathes against my lips.

“Fight for it, baby… Fight.”

I pull up against the pillow to reach his mouth.

“I want you…” I say quietly, evenly, straight on his lips.