“Oh god, Cade…”
The bra has got to fucking go. I rip the straps down over her shoulders, and then I’m pulling the cups of the plain black material down too, revealing the beautiful tanned skin of her breasts. Her freckles really are everywhere. I manage to rein myself in for a second, wanting to drink her in. She’s perfect. In the past I’ve been with women of all shapes and sizes, each beautiful and unique in their own way, but no one ever has or ever will compare to Natalia Villalobos without her shirt on. Her hair is still soaking, sticking to her skin, which is damp and hot. I gather her hair in my hands, taking hold of it in one hand, and then I pull gently, so she has to tip her head back. She has to curve her back in order to oblige me, which means her chest rises, her tits level with my mouth.
“Holy fuck,” I hiss. Her nipples are perfect, a delicate pink color that makes her seem fragile, though I already know that isn’t the case. Carefully, I use the tip of my tongue to flick and tease the bud of her right nipple, and I have to bite my fucking lip when she begins to shiver and shake on top of me. My cock is straining against my soaking wet jeans, demanding to be let free, but I’m not done yet. I want to play with her for a while first.
I release her long enough to fully remove her bra, and then my hands are all over her, palming and squeezing her tits, gripping her tightly at the waist, squeezing her ass through her jeans. She can feel how hard I am as I thrust up against her pussy. She must be able to. Every time I do it, her breath catches in her throat and she makes a sound of frustration mingled with intense pleasure.
“I’m going to take care of you,” I promise, growling into the skin just below her collarbone. “I’m going to make you come so hard all over my cock, Natalia. Are you ready? Are you ready for me to fuck you ’til you scream?”
She pants, grinding herself against me, and I know without a doubt that she is more than ready. I could strip her out of her pants right now and fuck her hard enough to bring this tree house down, and she wouldn’t complain. I can literally smell how turned on she is, and it’s enough to drive me insane. They say men and women are susceptible to each other’s pheromones, and right now this is science at its goddamn best. I can’t get enough of her. My hands can’t stop roaming crazily all over her body. She cries out as I unfasten her jeans and slide my hand past the wet fabric, only to find even more wet fabric underneath. This isn’t the same kind of wet, though. Not rainwater wet. More like, I-want-you-inside-me-right-fucking-now-look-how-fucking-ready-I-am kind of wet. It’s such a turn on.
In one swift movement, I pop up onto my knees, take hold of her, wrapping one arm around her body, and then I’m laying her out carefully on her back. I need to get her pants off, and I can’t do that if she’s straddling me.
“Tell me to take your pants off,” I growl.
“Take them—”
She doesn’t get to finish the sentence. I cut her off as I rip and tear at her clothes. I yank her shoes off one at a time, and then her jeans are gone, thrown into the corner of the tree house. Her plain black cotton panties are soaked through with her need. I drop down, pushing her legs apart, and then I’m sucking on the material, greedily licking at it, my head spinning with the taste and the smell of her. She’s incredible. She bucks and hisses as I rub my thumb over her clit, and I have to touch myself. I fucking have to. I pop open the button on my pants, pulling my jeans down over my hips so my hard-on can spring free.
I begin working my hand up and down the length of my cock, and it’s so close to being too much. I want to push myself inside her. I want to be balls deep in her pussy, while I finger her clit. I want to feel her tighten as she comes. I want to feel the wetness of her all over me. She looks like she’s so close to coming already—her eyes are closed, her lower lip fastened between her teeth, her chest rising and falling frantically.
“Open your eyes,” I command. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
She opens them, her pupils are so dilated they almost look like they’re blown. She fixes her gaze on my face, and I slowly shake my head, allowing a wicked smile to tease at the corners of my mouth. “Not there,” I tell her. “Look here.” I stop rubbing her pussy for a second to take hold of her by the chin, guiding her head until she’s looking down, at what I’m doing to myself, at my hand stroking up and down my hard cock. Her eyes grow wide, and then even wider as I tug my sodden t-shirt over my head, disposing of it so that I’m practically naked, aside from my jeans, which are still shoved half way down my thighs. Natalia sees the curls of black ink creeping over my shoulders, and traces the lines of my tattoo with her fingertips. She can’t see the full back piece right now, but I can see that she’s intrigued. I’m hardly going to hit pause to explain about the Widow Makers right now, though.