long sleeve shirt tighter around my wrists. This isn't fair!
Straddling my hips, he yanks off his shirt, tossing it behind him. This is what heaven's army looks like. Impossibly wide, impossibly defined, incredibly powerful.
Giddy, completely distracted from extricating myself from my top, I stare.
Shadows slide down deep ridges between muscles, undulating when he moves. Hard steps pave his body below his chest, to a perfect V rising from his groin to his lats, like two rods coming out his jeans.
Watching me with sharp eyes, he backs off me slowly. Satisfied I'm not about to untangle his knotwork, he unbuttons my jeans, sliding them down my legs, pulling them off with my shoes in one easy snap.
The air breathes goosebumps over my skin, and I'm watching the lats running down his sides widening when he pulls his own jeans off, commando underneath. It takes him all of ten seconds to get out of his clothes, and my heart is now blocking my throat completely.
Terrified, fascinated, I watch him prowl back over me; sheer lace is all that stands between us, and what looks like the promise of pain mixing a cocktail with pleasure.
God, that's the biggest, hardest, manly muscle I've seen. I can't look, staring into his eyes, staring into mine, his expression is serious.
Closing my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, I'm a butterfly with her wings pinned.
Thighs the width of my hips slide over mine, staking a knee between my legs. Slipping over me, skin on skin, it's luxurious and tantalizing. Hands run over me, up, and down, scalding lips touch my left nipple. He's hotter than Arizona in drought season; we don't need a fire in here, his temperature is soaring.
The moist touch of his tongue circles it. Suctioned into his mouth, velvet nicks over it, again and again, taunting my g-spot when it whips a path deep through my body. Erupting with shudders, craving pools her slippery kiss between my legs. I open my eyes, looking up at the hooded ceiling. Flames make shadow phantoms, licking each other, sliding together, drawing apart, like a staccato tango.
It happens so fast, I yelp. I'm flipped over onto my stomach.
No escaping now.
His strong fingers hook my hips, pulling them off the bed, and my underwear is gone. Feeling naked and exposed, I hide my face in my arm. Wanting it desperately, but fighting the nun in my head, telling me this is how good girls get into trouble.
I'm so wanton, it's almost painful. And to make things worse, I'm the only one with deep breathing. It's all I can hear.
Pushing his knee against the back of mine, he forces it up, my thigh at a lazy right angle to my hips now. Clenching, I move a hair's breadth away from the pressure against me.
Cloaking me with his body, an elbow depresses the ink linen next to my head, holding me in the prison of his legs and arms.
“ Ohpitsa, it's okay, I won't hurt you.”
That's easy for you to say.
But I can't speak, my breathing comes in whimpering waves. His voice is therapeutic, gliding between my vertebrae, teasing my spine the way his skin kisses against my back. Relaxing into the bed, I close my eyes, waiting.
His teeth nip my neck; a hand directs my leg further away, tilting my body. Without withdrawing the ecstasy in my neck, he lifts my hips again, aggressively thrusting the other leg up, pushing me into a cat stretch; I'm shocked forward, into my arms, when the touch of him cascades into me. I could cum right now, with him hardly breaching the sanctum.
My breath is wild, shaky, like my heartbeat.
“ Trust me.”
It's three octaves deeper, a purr, oddly safe, trustworthy.
Forcing myself to relax, he senses it. Teasing me, firm hands holding my hips, thumbs stretch me apart. The skin is taut, it rides my desire. Kneading his inflamed sex over my core, it pricks my arousal with sharp strokes.
Writhing closer, I want to feel him. I'm needy, a harsh ache deep inside is torturing me. Sinking his hips deeper, my breath hitches when my pulsating walls beat a
Straddling my hips, he yanks off his shirt, tossing it behind him. This is what heaven's army looks like. Impossibly wide, impossibly defined, incredibly powerful.
Giddy, completely distracted from extricating myself from my top, I stare.
Shadows slide down deep ridges between muscles, undulating when he moves. Hard steps pave his body below his chest, to a perfect V rising from his groin to his lats, like two rods coming out his jeans.
Watching me with sharp eyes, he backs off me slowly. Satisfied I'm not about to untangle his knotwork, he unbuttons my jeans, sliding them down my legs, pulling them off with my shoes in one easy snap.
The air breathes goosebumps over my skin, and I'm watching the lats running down his sides widening when he pulls his own jeans off, commando underneath. It takes him all of ten seconds to get out of his clothes, and my heart is now blocking my throat completely.
Terrified, fascinated, I watch him prowl back over me; sheer lace is all that stands between us, and what looks like the promise of pain mixing a cocktail with pleasure.
God, that's the biggest, hardest, manly muscle I've seen. I can't look, staring into his eyes, staring into mine, his expression is serious.
Closing my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, I'm a butterfly with her wings pinned.
Thighs the width of my hips slide over mine, staking a knee between my legs. Slipping over me, skin on skin, it's luxurious and tantalizing. Hands run over me, up, and down, scalding lips touch my left nipple. He's hotter than Arizona in drought season; we don't need a fire in here, his temperature is soaring.
The moist touch of his tongue circles it. Suctioned into his mouth, velvet nicks over it, again and again, taunting my g-spot when it whips a path deep through my body. Erupting with shudders, craving pools her slippery kiss between my legs. I open my eyes, looking up at the hooded ceiling. Flames make shadow phantoms, licking each other, sliding together, drawing apart, like a staccato tango.
It happens so fast, I yelp. I'm flipped over onto my stomach.
No escaping now.
His strong fingers hook my hips, pulling them off the bed, and my underwear is gone. Feeling naked and exposed, I hide my face in my arm. Wanting it desperately, but fighting the nun in my head, telling me this is how good girls get into trouble.
I'm so wanton, it's almost painful. And to make things worse, I'm the only one with deep breathing. It's all I can hear.
Pushing his knee against the back of mine, he forces it up, my thigh at a lazy right angle to my hips now. Clenching, I move a hair's breadth away from the pressure against me.
Cloaking me with his body, an elbow depresses the ink linen next to my head, holding me in the prison of his legs and arms.
“ Ohpitsa, it's okay, I won't hurt you.”
That's easy for you to say.
But I can't speak, my breathing comes in whimpering waves. His voice is therapeutic, gliding between my vertebrae, teasing my spine the way his skin kisses against my back. Relaxing into the bed, I close my eyes, waiting.
His teeth nip my neck; a hand directs my leg further away, tilting my body. Without withdrawing the ecstasy in my neck, he lifts my hips again, aggressively thrusting the other leg up, pushing me into a cat stretch; I'm shocked forward, into my arms, when the touch of him cascades into me. I could cum right now, with him hardly breaching the sanctum.
My breath is wild, shaky, like my heartbeat.
“ Trust me.”
It's three octaves deeper, a purr, oddly safe, trustworthy.
Forcing myself to relax, he senses it. Teasing me, firm hands holding my hips, thumbs stretch me apart. The skin is taut, it rides my desire. Kneading his inflamed sex over my core, it pricks my arousal with sharp strokes.
Writhing closer, I want to feel him. I'm needy, a harsh ache deep inside is torturing me. Sinking his hips deeper, my breath hitches when my pulsating walls beat a
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