Read Online Dedicated Ink by Ranae Rose - Free Book Online Page A

up and down, breathing faster as she rubbed against his dick, was too good. Her breasts bounced, and he focused on them, ceasing to move his hips and lowering his head to capture one of her nipples again.
    She arched up and into him, losing her rhythm as she stilled, panting instead of moving as he sucked hard, knowing it was the only thing keeping her still, the only thing keeping him from coming then and there.
    Uncomplaining, she breathed harder, then moaned when he cupped her breast from below, massaging and hoping the tender touch would make up for the scrape of his teeth, the light bite her wild sounds drove him to give her.
    She moaned, swore and whispered his name between breaths, her nails buried in his shoulders. That was it – he had to be inside her. Releasing her flushed and swollen nipple from between his teeth, he leaned back and gripped his dick, guiding it between her thighs.
    The moisture coating her folds made it easy to slide past them, and soon the head of his dick was tunneling inside her, parting tight flesh he’d only dreamed of for the past three months. He drove in all the way to the root, pausing when he was buried inside her, right where he’d wanted to be ever since that first night.
    In that moment, he didn’t regret anything – not even their carelessness. How could he when it had led to this, when it had drawn them back together? Rocking into her, he said her name, hoping the two little syllables conveyed what he couldn’t spare the breath to say, which was that he’d never in his life felt anything better.
    She moved her hips too, much like she had minutes ago, only this time she was taking him – every inch of him – deeper instead of merely grinding against the underside of his shaft. He fucked her and relished the way she fucked back, like she had that first night – he hadn’t stopped thinking about the rolling motion of her hips since then.
    They established a rhythm and got lost in it for a while. Her body was so hot and the couch cushions so plush against his back that he began to sweat. Sensing release building low inside him again, he slipped a hand between her thighs and sought out her clit, pressing fingertips to its tiny swell.
    He rubbed her there until her thighs trembled on either side of his and her breath came harder than ever. A sharp rush of breath and an internal wrenching of muscles marked the moment she began to come, and he thrust harder while maintaining the massage that had pushed her to the edge. The pull and squeeze of her tightening pussy was heaven; he couldn’t think of anything else, could only keep doing what he was doing, reaching for the same kind of release.
    His dick was still being buffeted by a few last, soft contractions when he began to come, finally relinquishing the control he’d barely managed to hold on to over the past half hour.
    Rocking hard and deliberately, he went a little more slowly than he had a minute ago, savoring each push and pull into her tight depths. This – the feeling of absolute pleasure, absolutely letting go – had haunted him through the summer and followed him into fall, too. Spilling everything he had deep inside her made him moan and threatened to take his breath away afterward when he leaned back against the couch cushions, his nerves humming with relief and satisfaction.
    “I feel like I just ran a marathon,” she sighed, easing up and off of him, letting his dick slide free.
    He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, guiding her head to rest against his shoulder. As she settled against him, clearly fatigued, he experienced no guilt; her obvious satisfaction kept that emotion at bay. She’d been right; it would’ve been stupid to hold back any longer. For the first time since July, he let himself exist in the present instead of the future or past.
     
* * * * *
 
    Abby cast a last glance down at her black t-shirt as she hung her jacket on a hook and walked down Hot Ink’s aisle, forcing