Page 210 of Five Brothers
“The way you were with yourself,” I explain, “it was the way it should be. It was like it always should be when someone touches you. The way your body moved, the way you breathed …” I catch her bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s why we’re alive. That’s how it should be.”
I’d seen women touch themselves before, but she was so soft. I could feel the heat from her body across the room. I forgot everything—all of my problems—for a few minutes.
“And then you spoke, and took everything I was thinking out of my head, and my insides took over,” I say. “I wanted you under my skin and your scent in my head. I couldn’t think. I did what we do when we’re dying. We rage, and I felt it on you, too. I had to hold you.”
She gazes at me, so much beauty and love in her eyes.
“I just couldn’t let it happen again,” I tell her. “I couldn’t keep you and bring you into my shit.”
“Is anyone here?” shouts one of the guards.
She kisses me so softly, brushing her mouth over mine. “I wasn’t made for anyone else,” she whispers, holding me tight. “I belong to you.”
Women love being owned by a good man.
Am I a good man?
“Bite me,” I beg over her mouth. “Feel me between your teeth.”
Parting her lips, she catches my bottom lip between her teeth. My cock twitches.
She tilts her head and touches her lips to the corner of my mouth. Barely a touch. Soft, gentle, quick. I close my eyes. “Again,” I tell her.
She does it again, and an electric current rages underneath my skin. She kisses my cheek the same way. My jaw, my temple, between my eyebrows, the other corner of my mouth …
Her breath, her sweat, her taste … everything is inside of me.
I inch her shirt up, my cock swelling at the sight of her breasts. God, I want to fucking eat her up.
My hand covers one, and I kiss her, cutting off her little moan.
Her tits press against my chest … I have to have her now.
Lowering her to her feet, I plant my hand on her stomach and push her into the wall. With my other hand, I unbutton her shorts and draw down her zipper. Grazing my lips over her temple, I tell her, “Take them off.”
Squirming against me, she pushes her shorts down her legs, her shirt still up above her breasts.
“Now the underwear,” I tell her.
Holding my eyes, she slides them down, letting them fall to her feet.
Lifting her high again, I wrap her legs around me and carry her, laying her body down on a small table. Extra dining room chairs are also stored off to the side, an old grandfather clock, and some cardboard boxes.
I whip off my jacket, rip open my shirt, and drop everything to the ground as she arches her back, pushing her tits to the sky and looking so fucking eatable. I slide my eyes down, my dick throbbing painfully at the sight of exactly where she feels so good.
Something between a whimper, a cry, and a moan escapes her. “Macon …” she begs for me.
And I come down, biting the soft flesh of her pussy.
“Ah,” she cries, clawing her thighs.
“Hello?” the men call again. “Who was that?”
Fuck.
I lick and taste her, sucking so hard because I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop. I bite everywhere, my teeth aching to feel her, and then stick my tongue inside of her.
“Ah!” she cries out again.