Read Online Hard by Cheryl McIntyre, Dawn Decker - Free Book Online

me, his tongue chasing the trail of alcohol. He reaches back into the glass, digging around until he removes one of the cherries. He places it between my folds, icy cold against my clit. I wiggle on the table, unable to decide if I like this or not, but he leans back in, licking and biting at the sweet little maraschino cherry, making it rub and drag against me. His rough cheeks scratch along the delicate skin the whole time and I decide rather quickly that I don’t just like it. I love it.
    I don’t think I will ever get enough of what this man does to me.

 
    15
    Jensen
     
    I take my time eating the cherry from her pussy. The sweet mix of Holland, the maraschino, and the Whiskey Sour is delectable. It’s fucking mouthwatering. Hands down, the tastiest thing I have ever eaten. But that’s not the reason I drag this out, making it last as long as possible. The way she responds, panting and squirming above me is such a dazzling sight, it needs to be appreciated.
    Once I’ve devoured the cherry, I push my middle finger inside her, circling and pumping while I suck on her clit. She pinches her eyes shut, tossing her head back as she cries my name through gritted teeth. The sound of my name on her lips is almost as good as watching her come.
    I stand up, undoing my jeans and letting them fall from my waist. I’m so hard it hurts. The need to have her wrapped around my cock is nearly overwhelming. I pick her up under her arms, bringing her with me as I sit heavily on the sofa, the leather cool under my bare ass. Her arms close around me, embracing me tightly. Without warning, I put Holland down on my lap, thrusting straight up into her. It takes her a few seconds to adjust to my intrusion, pain etched openly on her face. I use every last ounce of self-control I have to stay still and not drive into her in the way I want to—need to—but I do it. Somehow, I do it.
    She sits upward, releasing a pained breath and I keep my attention focused on her, waiting to make sure she’s okay. That she’s still with me. I realize in that moment, I don’t want to hurt her, and it startles me. I’m not abusive, not by any means, my partners are always willing, eager participants, and I’d fuck anybody up that tried to mistreat a woman. But having sex and offering pain, for me, have always gone together in the same way photography and Scopophilia works hand in hand. Like the way normal people pair socks with shoes or peanut butter with jelly.
    I twist my fingers into her long hair with both hands and yank her into me, my mouth slamming into hers. I kiss her hard. I kiss her long. I kiss her until her breaths are fast and rough and she begins moving against me. Riding me. Taking me all the way.
    My head falls back, sinking into the sofa. She feels so damn good, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop this. I know I need to. Have to. I don’t have a condom on and I’m not in the market for any kids. Ever.
    “Are you on the pill?” I husk, watching her slick pussy slide up and down my length and enjoying every fucking second of it. When I don’t get an answer, I begrudgingly lift my head.
    She swallows tightly, her gaze focused somewhere behind me, not on my face. Not on my eyes. Warning bells sound loud and obnoxious in my head, but then she nods confirmation, and I notice her shirt has fallen off her shoulder, exposing the strap of her bra over her porcelain skin, and the alarm fades.
    I clutch her shirt between my fingers and jerk, sending pearly white buttons scattering onto the floor. That will keep her from trying to sneak out on me again . She shrugs out of the destroyed blouse as I yank her bra down, freeing her breasts. She guides my head toward her, not that I needed any direction. I grasp her tits firmly, kneading them. I run my tongue up her chest, kiss my way back down, and suck her nipple into my mouth.
    Holland moves quicker, bounces on me harder. So good. So damn good.
    Fuck it. I can pull out. I know I’m clean. The