The Right Player - Kandi Steiner Page 0,40

something of a growl ripping from his throat before I was hoisted up and over his shoulder like a bag of fucking potatoes. I would have laughed, if it wasn’t so goddamn sexy. I felt like a prisoner, like he was a caveman about to have his way with me.

I expected him to carry me to the bedroom, but we only made it to the kitchen, and the granite was cool when he sat my thong-clad ass on top of it. As soon as I was stable, he bent, sweeping his tongue over my nipple before I had the chance to prepare for it.

A bolt of electricity shot through me, and I gasped, gripping what I could of his short hair in my hands. He moved to the other nipple, sucking it just as hard, and my pussy throbbed in anticipation of what his mouth would do to it next.

“It took every fucking bit of restraint I possessed not to take you right here,” he said, sucking my nipple again and releasing it with a pop. “Just like this.” He lifted one of my legs as I leaned back on my palms, and he placed my high heel on his shoulder, trailing his fingertips down my leg until they skated over the lace of my panties. “The very first fucking time you were here.”

“You should have,” I whispered, or maybe I panted it. I couldn’t be sure, and I couldn’t believe it was me making the desperate, mewling sounds of need as his fingers pushed my panties to the side.

“No,” he said, and his eyes connected with mine. “You were worth the wait.”

His middle finger slipped inside me, slicking through my wet folds and filling me as I trembled at the sensation. I let my head fall back, my eyes closed, embracing everything about the way it felt to have that massive, beastly finger inside me.

Makoa kissed all over my breasts, sucking and biting and licking as his finger curled inside me, and I swore to God I could come right there. I could detonate without him even putting that glorious cock inside me.

Makoa didn’t give me the chance, though. As if he knew I was close, he flipped me before I could make sense of it, and I was bent over the kitchen island, the granite biting into my hips as he pressed into me from behind.

His hands wrapped in my hair and tugged, until my back arched, my ass cheeks framing the length of him. He sucked the lobe of my ear between his teeth, making me shiver and shake, and then he peeled my panties down over my ass, my thighs, leaving them where they fell at my ankles.

“Bend over,” he whispered.

“I am.”

He pressed his hand onto my back, flattening me against the granite. “More.”

I wrapped my hands around the edges of the counter, bracing for impact with my heart racing out of my chest. I expected to feel his cock ram inside me, but instead, he dropped to his knees.

And then he gripped my hips, pulling them back, arching me as much as humanly possible before he dragged his tongue from my clit to my asshole in one, full sweep.

I shook so hard I nearly fell to the floor, the heels adding to how difficult it was to keep my fucking legs working. Makoa took the hint, took my weight in his hands, and then he dove in for more.

His tongue was a whip, lashing me, over and over. He’d run the hot, flatness of it over and in, sucking at my ass, flicking at my clit. Gone was the fumbling, nervous, mess of a man I’d encountered the past few dates. It seemed whenever the clothes came off, Makoa became something else entirely.

A warrior. A beast.

A pussy-worshiping, unrelenting punisher.

My moans turned into something that would put even the hottest porn star to shame as he ate me out, but again, just when I was close enough to come, he leapt to his feet, and I collapsed into his arms.

“Don’t give up on me yet,” he teased, kissing my neck before he put my hands on the countertop, instructing me to wait.

He was gone only a minute before he returned to the kitchen, ripping a gold packet open as he did. Then, he ripped his briefs down, stepping out of them like it was nothing. Like he didn’t just free the motherland of all cocks. Like his erection wasn’t the hardest, thickest, prettiest dick I’d ever

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