Thanks to this evenings unexpected um...festivities, I'm inspired to give you a hot snippet to maybe inspire your Friday night. I know so far mine's been a hell of a doozie ;)~
From "I'm on Fire"
by Sommer Marsden
She wasn’t sure how it had disintegrated so fast. He’d apparently come to say he was sorry for hurting her feelings. Something she should have given him brownie points for even noticing. Instead, an irritation had flared fast and bright inside her. She didn’t want Jackson Goodman, he of the firemanesque scolding, to know that she had been hurt at all.
It had somehow dissolved into the verbal kind of argument kindergartners might have.
All that was missing was “I know you are, but what am I?”
But then he’d grabbed her upper arms in his big, strong hands and her mind had gone sort of gooey around the edges. Her body remembered the arousal she’d felt when he’d grabbed her to steady her, but this time he was grabbing her to grab her.
His lips were warm and soft and they crushed down on hers almost angrily. Mel parted her lips, letting his mouth work over hers, letting his tongue into her mouth. The moment their tongues connected, she felt a warm rush of fluid in her panties. This man did strange things to her head. He made her want things she didn’t want to want.
Like sex when she was still hurt and angry.
She said it again. “We’re not having sex.”
“Whatever,” he growled. He pushed her to the foyer wall and buried his fingers in her pussy. With the other hand he held her close.
Even as she uttered the rule of no sex, she was fumbling with his zipper. Jackson sighed, his hot breath feathering over her lips. She nipped his lower lip and he made another rough noise. He used his free hand to help her with his pants and then he was in her hand. His cock long and hard, warm and incredibly soft-skinned. She hummed and he hummed and his big fingers flexed gently deep in her pussy and her whole pelvis filled with heat and pleasure.
“Does that feel good?” he demanded, but his voice was softer than she’d heard so far.
Mel nodded. She stroked him, soft at first but harder when he thrust into her palm. Her back pressed to the wall and he had her pinned, one big leg trapping her leg, his hand in her pants, fingers thrusting deep. The weight of him and the way he had her caged turned her on to no end and she felt her body inch closer to a climax. But she didn’t speak.
He froze, his fingers deep in her. She could feel her heartbeat in her pussy and she squeezed his cock so he winced. Jackson broke the kiss and stared in her eyes. His had gone impossibly dark and hooded with lust and she wanted to tell him they were gorgeous, his eyes, but feared he’d laugh at her.
Men were odd about compliments beyond, “My, what a huge penis you have!” Or so she thought.
“Does that feel good?” he asked again and flexed his fingers once more. Just for an instant, barely pressing. A blip on her internal radar that made her heart fluttery in her chest.
Mel nodded again. Jackson stopped and shook his head. Mel swept her thumb over the head of his cock and for just a second, his eyes drifted shut like he’d been swept away into sleep. They sprang back open and she stared at the little flecks of gold in the brown.
“Say it,” he said. He withdrew his fingers almost all the way, pressed her clit with his thumb and thrust up hard, filling her again so he was knuckle-deep.
“It feels good. It does. Do it again,” she asked, feeling brazen. The words simply gushed up out of her.
She’d expected a shower and wine and some TV. She had not expected hot, sticky groping in the hallway with the fireman who had scolded her this morning. But her body was rolling along toward an orgasm like a runaway train and all Mel really wanted was for him to touch her some more. To make her feel good.