Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,22

my nails from the exposed part of her foot all the way up to the underside of her thigh.

I continue biting and pulling on her panties, like a dog in a fight, the adrenaline starting to make me lose control, the smell of her juices making me go feral, the sight of her squirming driving me crazy, the sound of her moaning enthralling me to get wilder, rougher, harder. My cock burns like a red hot poker, and I can’t stand to keep it away from her any longer.

I stand up, tearing off my clothes roughly, my eyes fixed upon her mouth as it gasps for air and she struggles against the belt holding her hands together behind her back, though I can tell by the fire in her eyes that she likes it. That some part of her has been yearning to let itself go, to experience the freedom that comes from submitting yourself totally, freedom from thinking, from concerns, from all the bullshit that she carries inside her. I will fuck her and bend her to my will – and she won’t even have to worry about being good enough, because I’ll make sure she is.

I stand naked beside the bed, my cock hard and high, almost fucking noble. Then I grab the back of her head and pull her to her knees on the bed, guiding her salivating mouth right where I need it. Her tongue feels like white-hot fire, burning away the cravings that have gathered in my cock. I let her work her spit over it, let her probing tongue explore the intimate contours, throwing my head back as chills run from the base of my balls up the back of my spine. I look down at her, and see her eyes rolled back, partly out of the ecstasy she gets from tasting me, partly so that she can see the look in my eyes.

When I see her face it’s like the first time – and something deep and heavy inside of me shifts. She’s fucking amazing. I could look at that face for the rest of my life. A face so striking it burned itself into my memory the first time I saw it. Now it’s right where I want it – on the end of my dick.

I tighten my grip on her hair and ram myself between her lips, my cock so hard and hungry for her even the scrape of her teeth can’t take away the sweetness. I thrust myself forcefully into her face again and again, driven by the fires Gemma’s glazing eyes have lit inside of me. I fuck her mouth so hard it sends trembles along her body, her ass cheeks shaking magnificently like shimmers on the seafront.

I can feel the orgasm coming on like a religious experience, like a rapture that makes years of hard living worthwhile. I thrust one last time, holding the length of my cock in her throat, Gemma moaning and thrashing around it like she’s being possessed. I hold her there for a few seconds that feel like flying, the moments before the crash, moments before the explosion, then pull her away and throw her back on the bed just before I come, forcing myself to hold back. Not yet. Not just yet.

I step toward my jacket as she watches me, panting and sweating, a heady cocktail of fear and excitement in her lust-glazed blue eyes. I pull out a condom from my inside pocket and put it on slowly, making sure I do it right, making sure that Gemma gets a few moments to prepare herself for what’s about to happen.

I walk to the foot of the bed, my chest heaving slowly. Our eyes lock, and Gemma’s legs brush against each other. I grab her feet, still in those high heels, and flip her onto her front in one swift gesture. She squeals with surprise, and I move over her, grasping at her hips like a pilot taking the controls, like a man wielding a weapon, dangerous and powerful, steadily and strongly.

I pull her panties to the side and push my cock inside her. It enters her smoothly and sweetly, her wet pussy squeezing and relaxing as her body reacts to mine. I reach around and grab her beautiful tits – too long ignored – and pull her up, enjoying the way her pussy moves against my dick.

“You like that?” I growl.

“Fuck me,” she moans, in between half-breaths and purrs. “Fuck me, Dylan!”

There’s