searching for relief. One of my hands grips her ass, the other slides between her folds from behind. Pixie groans as my finger finds the spot she wanted to show me earlier. Her hips move until her pussy grinds against my fingers.
“Anders,” she whispers, wanting more.
I suck her tit deeper as my tongue rolls back and forth over her hard nipple.
“Anders,” she said with more urgency.
I slide her clit between two fingers and apply the tiniest hint of pressure. Pixie whimpers, grinding against my drenched hand. Then she chants my name in a hushed, wobbling voice.
After she goes limp, I rest her on the bed. I quickly drape her long legs over my shoulders and press my face into her wet pussy. Pixie moans, squirming as if wanting free. I press my hands flat on her stomach and keep her in place while lapping up the sweet juices of a woman who belongs to me. No one else can have Pixie. I’m the one who found her. I won her heart. She can’t leave.
I don’t care if that’s crazy. Pixie isn’t normal. She should want me to claim her. That’s why she let me touch her and no one else.
Right now, I doubt she knows what she wants. Her body is on fire. Her pussy clenches wildly as I lick her from clit to asshole. She moans my name before dissolving into animalistic noises. She comes, I think. Maybe more than once. I can’t stop drinking down her pleasure. Her pussy addicts me.
But I don’t fuck her. My dick begs for a taste, but I can’t have it pounding inside her fragile body. So I fist my cock while fucking Pixie’s pussy with my tongue. I think she might want me to stop. I don’t, though. Not until I jizz on the fallen comforter while giving her pussy a few final licks.
Then, I crawl over her body and kiss her lips without thinking. I want what I want, and my brain is no longer running the show. My instincts are in control. That’s dangerous. I’m a selfish asshole if I don’t force myself to behave.
For Pixie, I need to become a better man. Or, at the very least, I need to learn to fake that shit better.
PIXIE
Anders scares me. When his big hands hold me down, I can’t break free without hurting him. And I don’t want to cause Anders pain. That’s why my heels never dig into his back when he holds me still and licks me past pleasure into pain. I also keep my hands from hitting or scratching him. I focus on the good part, even after it ends and I want to escape.
Finally, Anders lets go and kisses me. He doesn’t put his penis inside my vagina, though. I expect that to happen next, but he relaxes next to my body and presses his hand against my stomach again. I can’t move when he does that.
“Can we go outside?” I ask when he closes his eyes.
“Did you not feel good?”
“I feel trapped in this room,” I say rather than explain how his big hand is the reason I can’t free myself.
Anders opens his eyes and frowns at me. He’s in that angry mood again. I wonder if this is how he always feels, and I enjoyed only the short moments when he was calm.
“Did you feel good?” he asks again, trying to intimidate me.
“I had too many orgasms. My vagina feels strange now. I want to sit outside with you and talk like we did on the road.”
The scowl on Anders’s face falters, and his hand slides up to my right breast. “I could smoke a little weed. I’m not ready for bed. We could eat and talk and go in the hot tub.”
“I don’t know what that last part means, but I would like weed and food. Mostly, I want to spend time with you without a lot of people around.”
Anders finally smiles in the way he did on the road when we were alone. I miss how simple those times were together. I crave that Anders instead of the angry one who keeps trying to scare me.
He rolls his large body off the bed and then stands in a smooth motion. There are times when he seems too large to exist in the world. Other times, he moves as smoothly as a dancer.
“I ought to put on pants in case your family comes upstairs,” he says, sounding younger now. I even catch a sheepish