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I raised to sitting, the top of my dress still barely covering both beaded nipples and little else.My hands roamed up Saint’s jean clad legs, and his muscles flexed beneath my fingers. When I reached the waist, I tugged him closer to me. The line of darker hair bisecting the planes of his stomach and the arrows of deep muscle from his pelvis were just teasing glimpses of what lay lower, beneath the faded denim.
Peering up at him lids, I rubbed my cheek against the long hard length of his cock. “My turn.”
Eyes slanted down, he groaned. “I didn’t bring you here to blow me.”
My fingers at the tabs of his jeans, I opened the next one. “I want to.”
Quickly plucking the rest of the buttons free, I pulled the fabric wider.
All I could see was the nest of hair framing the wide base of his cock that throbbed with veins.
“Off. Take these off!” I tugged hastily, my mouth already watering.
With one of his wicked grins, he finally complied. Not one ounce shy, he kicked off his last article of clothing and stood there in front of me, all bold muscular masculinity . . . no apologies, and no apologies needed.
I felt limp with wanting him, especially when my gaze roved from the strapping sinews of his legs to his . . . to his cock.
He was fit. Hung. Huge. Inked.
And that long thick dick was . . . pierced.
Ohhhh.
Another trickle of juice drizzled from my slit as I imagined Saint—big, pierced Saint—driving up inside of me.
Precum slickened his completely erect, completely huge cock, and the Prince Albert piercing gleamed too.
I perched closer, dress still hiked around my naked waist. “You’re pierced.”
His head notched down, he nodded once.
“You’re big.”
“Touch me,” he ordered in a rugged voice.
My hand on him, I tried to encircle the hot male flesh.
His cock stood rigidly upright against his abs, and I anchored the heavy rod down slowly. Another drop of precum drizzled from the bloated crown to my fingers.
Saint grunted, rocking closer to my face.
Every muscle in his body tensed, and I ran my tongue over his clear jism, taking his essence into my mouth. Then I set my lips against the underside, rubbing my lips all over the turgid veiny flesh.
I loved the taste. I loved the heady musky smell.
“I’m gonna suck you now, Saint. And if you say no again, I’m going to tie you up.”
She grew up in Maine, went to college in Iowa (Iowa, what?), lived in Scotland, and married in Englishman. In true roundabout fashion, they came back to the States, settled in South Carolina’s lowcountry, putting down southern roots and pursuing their arty endeavors. Tale spinner and character diviner, Rie is a lover of sleep, wine, and rude memes often involving either Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh. She is raising two teen daughters along with an entire brain full of unruly characters.