Johnson Family 2: Perfect

“Is this what you want?” he whispered against her arched throat. “Tell me.”


“Yessss,” she said in a sibilant whisper. “I want you.” Manicured fingers moved over the fine curls on his head, scraping his scalp in a silent cry of relief that her need would soon be satisfied. He’d made her wait so long, made her suffer night after night.

“Killing me the past few weeks,” he muttered, sounding almost angry. He nipped her shoulder with his teeth. “I exercised like a madman, and when exercise wasn’t enough, I took matters into my own hands.”

She felt a little thrill that he’d pleasured himself to thoughts of her. Happy she hadn’t been alone in her torment, she whispered, “I did, too.”

He groaned against her neck and pushed away the straps of her nightgown to lavish kisses on her throat and shoulders. Everywhere his mouth touched, it set her skin on fire. “It’s nothing like the real thing.”

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and worked them lower, slowly. His mouth followed the same path. It brushed over the hair between her legs, and she gasped at the fleeting pleasure. His tongue trailed along her inner thigh until he’d dragged the silky material down her feet, where he nibbled on her ankles and kissed her soles.

It was as if he wanted to shower affection on every single part of her body, and she welcomed the thoroughness, urging him on with husky, appreciative noises.

The rest of their clothes came off even faster. His pajama bottom and her nightgown were tossed aside to form a pile on the floor.

His fingertips skimmed the curls at the juncture of her thighs. She jerked, her nerves raw and sensitive, her every thought concentrated on that one spot. Air hissed through his teeth when he encountered the wetness there, and she closed her eyes to savor his touch. He parted the tender flesh between her legs and slid his digits through the moisture. She squirmed beneath his probing touch and grabbed at his hand, silently begging for relief. She wanted more, and he must have understood. First one, then two fingers entered the wet opening. She gloried in the intimate exploration, lifting into the thrusting motion.

“Stop playing with me,” she panted.

His lips curled into a smile against her skin, and smug laughter tickled the side of her neck. Daniella kissed his jaw and ran her hands over his sculpted chest and the firm muscles of his arms. He had an incredible physique, and she couldn’t get enough of touching him.

“Lower,” he directed. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

Daniella closed her hand around his impressive length. He was firm and hot in her palm. She started with a feather-light touch, grazing the smooth, hard skin of his shaft.

“Harder,” he muttered, pushing with vigor against her fingers.

She tightened her clasp and stroked him until his breathing fractured and his belly trembled.

“Just like that,” he said, his voice sounding strained and husky. His hips slid back and forth in a counter motion, while his lips dipped to an engorged nipple and pulled it into his mouth. He concentrated his attention there for some time, swirling the tip of his tongue around it, sending a direct message to her clit.

She tightened her grasp even more and pulled, tugged, until he could no longer take the contact and wrenched her hand free. “Keep this up, and you’ll make me unload all over your pretty breasts.”

“Do it,” she whispered. She’d let him come on her breasts and ass before. She couldn’t imagine allowing another man such liberties. Only Cyrus. The act added a raw, dirty element to sex, one she’d surprisingly enjoyed.

“You’re a naughty girl,” Cyrus said with a wicked smile. He took each of her hands and stretched her arms above her head. “But that’s not how I want you tonight. This is how I want you.”

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