. . .
Do not break first…
Do not break first…
Even as I say the words to myself, desperate not to make a single sound, the pulsing in my lower half makes it increasingly impossible to remain quiet.
His dick is too, too good…
So hard.
So perfect.
Turner Hutton is everything I did not think was possible.
Kind.
Funny.
Wonderful.
I love spending time with him, and I love fucking him.
And he’s making me miserable.
He’s making me…
He’s…
He pumps his hips into me, and I gaze down our bodies to his thighs; thick and sexy. Watch as his firm ass grinds.
I bite my lip harder; we’re not supposed to be making sounds. That is the rule.
So let’s talk about the real problem ‘cause I think I’ve broken a much bigger one: this man—this unbelievably hot, golden-hearted disaster of a man—is making me feel things I’ve spent years keeping locked in a mental box labeledDO NOT OPEN UNLESS YOU WANT TO GET HURT.
I’m supposed to be the one in control. Me. The one keeping things light. Fun.Physical.
Unfortunately, Turner Hutton kisses like he damn well means it. Touches me as if memorizing my skin. Holds me like I’m not just the girl he shares a house with—but something he’s afraid to lose.
It has my stomach in knots and my pussy clenching around him.
The headboard bangs against the wall once, my head tipping back, the moan somewhere deep in my body begging to free itself.
He fucks me.
Reaches back across the covers, his hand fumbling for something. It’s pink.
It whirrs to life again.
When he reaches behind our bodies, I feel it buzzing near my ass…his balls…lifts my leg, shifts his hips, and slips the toy between us—strategic, maddening, and suddenly I’m seeing stars behind my eyes.
The headboard hits the wall again.
Oh my god…
Oh my god…
turner
