Time Served – Julianna Keyes
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I pass the men’s bathroom and pause in front of a door stamped with a little pink cow, then squint at a third door a few feet past it. I check over my shoulder to confirm that I’m alone before twisting the handle of the mystery door. It swings open to reveal a cramped supply closet. If there’s a light I can’t find it, but in the nearly nonexistent glow from the hallway I can see that it’s lined on three sides with shelves of paper towels and cleaning supplies.
A big hand splays itself across my back and shoves me inside, then Dean stalks in after me, shutting the door and enclosing us in darkness. I feel his fingers wrap around my neck, holding me in place as he slants those soft lips over mine, sliding his tongue into my mouth, hard and seeking. I don’t waste time with pleasantries, dipping a hand into his sweats and finding his cock through his boxers, already impressively stiff. I reach through the slit in the fabric and wrap my hand around his length, jerking him roughly, feeling him swell against my palm. His tormented growl makes me wet, and I fumble with my free hand to lift my dress over my hips.
Dean turns us so my back is to the door, then drops his hand between my legs, finding my panties and forcing them down. I step out of the scrap of silk and lift a leg over his hip, whimpering when the searing tip of his cock slides over my damp folds.
“Condom,” he grunts, pulling away for a second. I hear a package tear, a pause as he rolls it on, then he’s at me again, pushing inside without prelude.
My breath catches as tender tissues part, and when he squeezes my breast with one rough hand, I realize this is very much like our first night together, up against the door in his apartment. And then I realize that even though the positioning is similar, nothing else is: I trust Dean. I’m a lawyer who trusts the ex-convict who’s fucking her in a restaurant supply closet. I don’t know what this says about my mental state, but it turns me on even more.
Dean’s breath rasps in and out as he pounds into me, almost brutally. He cups my ass in both big hands, holding me away from the door, tilting my hips for deeper penetration and absorbing the blows so my tailbone doesn’t bruise. He’s going too fast to get me off, but I don’t mind. He’s taking what he wants for once, and I’m surprised by just how much it turns me on to let him, knowing it’s just for a little while. That I can trust him to return the favor, with interest. That I can trust him, period.
After a couple of minutes I hear him groan low in his throat, the sound he makes when he’s close. “Come on, Dean,” I murmur. “Let me feel it.”
He frees one hand to stroke my face, holding my head as he kisses me, then swears softly as he comes, jerking into me three, four times with his release. With our chests pressed together like this, I can feel his heart pounding against mine, thudding against my ribs like an out-of-control stallion. “Okay,” he mutters, pulling out. “Okay. Your turn.”
I can’t see him but I feel him drop to his knees in front of me, and more than anything I wish I could turn on the lights and watch this big man kneel at my feet and bury his face between my legs. Dean parts his lips and sucks me into his mouth, making my knees buckle. I stifle a cry and balance my hands on his shoulders as he strokes up the back of my thighs, helping me stand.
He plunges his tongue deep inside, again and again, the wettest, most thorough tongue-fuck of my life. His thumbs reach around to pull me open, exposing my clit to his lips and teeth, dragging out an orgasm I’m all too happy to surrender. I clamp a hand over my mouth as I come, hearing Dean’s satisfied groan as he eats me, then the soft sound of him swallowing my release.
“Oh God,” I moan as the pleasure abates. “Jesus.”
Dean stands and tugs my dress down. I feel his elbow brush my chest as he lifts a hand to wipe his mouth, laughing quietly. “I’ve got your panties,” he says. “You good to go?”
Ha. Hardly. But I nod, though he can’t see it, and say that I am. Dean returns to the table as I duck into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror I expect to see tousled hair, swollen lips and guilty eyes. Instead all I see is myself, work-appropriate dress, smooth chignon, flushed cheeks. Nothing that says “Just fucked.”
Tessa Ever After – Brighton Walsh
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This girl makes me lose my goddamn mind. Makes me forget every rational thought I’ve ever had. Makes me forget about everything but what she looks like under me, what she feels like gripping me, what she sounds like when she calls out my name.
I grab a condom and roll it down my cock, groaning at the sight in front of me. Tessa’s on the bed, just like how I wanted her. Facedown, ass up, looking back at me with heavy, lust-filled eyes, and I fucking love that I’m the one she’s looking at like that. That, despite whatever bullshit her brother fed her, I’m still the one she wants.
Climbing on the bed, I straddle her thighs again, holding her hip with one hand and guiding myself to her with the other. I push forward, watching how she opens around me, how she swallows my cock whole, and I can’t stop the groan when I look up at her face and see the reflection of hunger there.
I want to pound into her, fuck her so hard she forgets her own name. Forgets every other man who’s had the pleasure of knowing her this way. Until she remembers only me. Until she wants only me.
“Do you know how perfect you feel around me?” I slide nearly all the way out, then push into her deep and slow, watching with satisfaction as Tessa grips the comforter tighter in her hands. She lifts her ass higher, silently begging me for something more. “You need it deeper, baby?”
I smile at her answering groan and grip her ass, lifting up and opening her as wide as I can with her legs pressed together. Then I repeat the slow, deep slide, pushing in as far as I can go and listening for her answering gasp. When she gives it to me, I move faster, thrusting into her with enough force to move her forward on the bed. Reaching up, I grab her hand and pull it away from the bedding, not stopping until it’s behind her back, her body twisted under me, her breasts bouncing with each forward thrust of my hips. Her face is slack, her lips parted and her eyes fluttering closed at every push into her. Holding her wrist with one hand, I slide the other to her mouth, brushing my finger against her lip.
“Open up, baby. Suck it.”
She complies immediately, her mouth opening to accept my finger, her tongue slipping out to brush over the tip. I groan as the soft, warm wetness of her mouth surrounds my finger, pumping my hips into her faster, harder, not able to control myself anymore. Pulling my finger from her mouth, I trail it down her chest to her exposed breast, swirling the wetness around her nipple, and smile when she moans, her eyes fluttering closed, her pussy pulsing around me.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Give me another.”
Tessa’s always been beautiful—even before I accepted this pull toward her—but now? Here, tonight, when she’s laid out in front of me, her mouth open on gasps from feeling me inside her, her eyes locked on me as I push her exactly where she needs to go?
It’s too much, and when she lets out a choked gasp, her eyes rolling back in her head as she comes around me, I let go and fall with her.
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