A Serving of Forever (Lights Camera Insta-Love #3) - Jessa Kane Page 0,8

panties and twist. Make them tighter.”

Such an erotic suggestion should make me giggle or sputter a protest, but his expression is so hot and eager, I find my fingers sliding beneath the side waistband of my panties on both sides and winding the material around my finger. Briefly, I glance down to witness what Desmond is seeing and my lips pop open at the sight that greets me. My underwear is practically see-through, due to my wetness, and the split of my womanhood is visible, along with my narrow strip of light brown hair.

With a growl, Desmond reaches into the open V of his pants and withdraws his erection—and I can do nothing but stare, my jaw in the vicinity of my lap. Honestly, it could pass for a forearm if it wasn’t so beautifully curved. “Oh my God,” I whisper, not sure if I’m speaking in my head or out loud. “It’s as big as the rest of you.”

Desmond’s chuckle sounds pained. “You’re making it that way, sweetheart.” He grips his girth so tightly, his knuckles bleed of color. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous, sitting there with your legs spread, those innocent panties stretched over your little fuck hole. Christ.”

His coarse words send a ripple of excitement through me. “You sound like you’re in pain,” I whisper, inching my knees a touch wider.

“You have no idea,” he pushes through clenched teeth. “Quinn, I have to touch you. Just a little, sweetheart. I won’t fuck you yet, but I gotta take this edge off.”

It might be crazy to trust Desmond so much, so soon, but I don’t question the impulse. I simply nod—and a split second later, I find myself flattened on the bed. Desmond’s big body presses down on mine, his hand between us, sliding his arousal upward through the thigh opening of my panties. My back arches on a moan when his shaft grinds down on my mound and he starts to pump his hips, snarling into my neck. He’s…humping me. Furiously. His hot breath creates condensation on my neck and shoulder, one of his hands holding my hips steady, the other rifling through my hair.

I’m a prisoner.

I couldn’t escape if I tried.

I’m his…piece. He’s dry rutting me to satisfy his male urges and I should be scandalized, right? Yes, perhaps. But I find my thighs wrapped around his thrusting hips, my toes digging into his flexing buttocks. The heavy steel of his inches gather a little more of my wetness with every frantic movement of his hips and the squelching sound fills the room, along with the increasing volume of his grunts.

“Fuck, Quinn. I’m sorry, I can’t stop. I can’t stop.” His hips piston so fast now, I have to clench my back teeth together to keep them from clacking. “Your pussy is too pretty. Gotta ride it. Gotta get my come on it.”

Something swells inside me. Is it feminine pride?

Yes, I think it is.

Look at me! I’m turned this big, brave hero into a servant to his own needs. He can’t seem to resist me—and that is thrilling. This morning, when I got dressed in this room, I was worried about having flyaway hairs on camera. Those fears seem distant and silly now when I’m a woman who can turn a man on to the point of a frenzy.

It’s working.

My confidence is growing.

With that realization in mind, I slide my hands under them hem of Desmond’s shirt, lightly dragging my fingernails up the flexing breadth of his muscles, then scoring his skin on the way back down. “Oh fuck!” Desmond growls, his hand leaving my hair to wrap around my throat. “You want to be bad, little girl?”

“Yes,” I push through my swollen lips. Halfway through croaking my answer, Desmond leans back and flips me over onto my stomach. I’m still gasping into the bedding when Desmond yanks my panties down to my knees and cracks his palm against my right buttock. Once, twice, a third time, before switching to the left cheek and giving it the same treatment, eliciting the delicious sting I didn’t know I was missing. “Oh my God, Desmond, more,” I moan, pushing my backside up like a beggar.

“Ah, Quinn. If only you could see what I see. That pussy got so wet, it soaked your virgin asshole, too. That makes me jealous. You want me jealous, sweetheart?”

“No,” I manage, rubbing my breasts on the mattress, the rough friction delivering a bolt of lightning to my clit. “No, I don’t want that.”

Desmond works the