Cole: The Wounded Sons, Leah Sharelle [the reading list .TXT] 📗

the way from the bottom to the top, curling my tongue around the pearl of nerves, then went back down again, egged on by her sultry moans and fingers digging into my short hair.

“Oh my god! SOOO much better than my dreams,” my Temptress cried out, her thighs quivering around the sides of my face.

Chuckling, I continued my assault on the heated wet flesh, partly from my mouth and partly from the bursts of sweet cream spilling deliciously slow from the opening that was begging for my cock. Not until she comes in my mouth first, I want to feel that sweet flow of her orgasm before sinking into the sticky wetness. Lifting her slight weight up off the bed, I held her pussy against my mouth, devouring her like a starving man would a bucket of water after weeks in the desert without supplies.

Fuck! I knew that feeling, but a drink of water to wet my parched throat never tasted this good. Fucking never.

“Cole, I’m … I’m … coming!” An ear-piercing screech echoed in the room as my Temptress detonated in my mouth, filling me with sweet, fairy floss-tasting cream that was now my favourite flavour.

“Mmmm,” I murmured against her lips, lapping and sucking, not wanting to ever stop.

“Cole, I can’t …” The words were delivered in a thready rasped voice, her legs now shaking all the way down to her toes.

“Yes, you fucking can,” I argued, quickly jumping to my feet bringing the sexy, sated woman with me. Holding her around her middle, my hands just under her ample breasts, I sat down on the edge of the bed and brought her down on my lap backwards.

“Ride me, baby, ride my cock and make me come,” I demanded, not recognising my own voice, let alone the need I heard in it.

“Backwards?” Temptress asked, momentarily tense, her head turned to look over my shoulder, and for a second, a foggy image of a familiar face danced in front of my eyes.

She looks so …

“Yeah,” I growled, pushing the fog away and lifted her slightly off my lap to fist my cock at the base. The bastard was hard and pulsing, and he was greedy to experience that pussy himself. “Take me in, baby, all the way to the root. Fill your hot, wet, sopping cunt with my thick, aching cock.”

Filthy words spilled from my lips on their own accord, fuelled by the whiskey and beer or by the sweet tasting cum on my tongue, I couldn’t tell you. What did I know? I was going to die if she didn’t sit down and take me.

“Damn, your mouth is like a weapon, Rambo, in more ways than one,” Temptress sassed, turning back around and did what I asked. Spreading her legs on either side of mine, she lowered herself down over my cock, the suction of her entrance taking me in one thick inch at a time. The tightness was not something I could describe; not even if someone had a gun to my head would I be able to put into words the hedonism my cock was feeling right now.

“Jesus, fuck, fuck, Jesus,” I gritted, grabbing onto her hips and helping her find the perfect rhythm I needed.

“Holy crap, you are deep, deep, deep,” Temptress groaned, lifting herself up then almost banging her hips down hard on my lap, her plump arse a delicious pillow just for my own viewing pleasure. The room was dark, but the light from the clock radio was close, illuminating her body to me.

“I want to be deeper, much deeper.” Moving my hands, I wrapped them around her upper body, my hands clasped over her breasts, and I pulled her down as hard and as firmly as I could without hurting her. Thrusting up, I cantered my hips as I drove my steel rod into the deepest part of her pulsing channel, nearly fainting at the clenching sensation of her inner wall muscles as she tried to take me as deep as possible.

“Oh … no … again … fuck … I … can’t.” Hot wetness coated my shaft, the juices wetting me from tip to root, the climax so strong, so unexpected, my balls started to sing with the arrival of my orgasm.

“Fuck! Yes!” I roared, feeling the first stream of cum jet out from the tip of my cock so hard and fast it was painful.

“More!” my Temptress growled, grinding her pretty arse down on me, adding a swivel of her hips, sending me into a spiral of climatic bliss. Rope after rope of cum burst from the head of my cock, so much I could hear the squishing sounds of our combined release oozing from her pussy.

Dropping my head forward, I planted my sweaty face on her bare back, my breaths coming out in desperate pants.

“For the love of God, don’t squeeze my cock with your pussy, not if you don’t want to snap him off inside your vice-like channel,” I begged, smiling at her giggle, then groaning when her giggle made her do exactly what I begged her not to do.

“I don’t think I can move,” my lover groaned, dropping her head back on my shoulder. “My legs are like jelly, this position is a real workout for the thigh and calf muscles, Rambo.”

Planting wet open-mouth kisses across her toned, sexy back, I smiled. This was exactly what I needed, no attachment, no names, no mess. Just amazing sex and a few hours to forget. Why was it then, I had a tightness in my chest every time my hands danced across her soft, silky skin? Why couldn’t I stop my fingers from learning the plump pebbled nipples I was currently caressing? And why was my heart beating a hundred Ks an hour?

Alcohol. It had to be the grog; there was no other answer. I mean, I didn’t have the time nor the inclination for a commitment to anything else than