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There were at least a thousand reasons why this was wrong, but she currently had a hard time naming three...not when his tongue dragged across the pebbled peak of her nipple before his teeth tugged on the small sliver hoop that pierced the sensitive flesh. A jolt of pain arched her back off the mattress forcing a soft moan from her lips. Her breast pressed into his bare chest. Her hands wrapped around his back, nails digging into the hard flesh of his back.
His muscles flexed under her torturous touch, slowly burning away at his restraint. Tanned skin moved against smooth brown flesh. The friction driving them both to the brink of insanity.
Sweat beaded her forehead, her breath caught in her throat. The tingling started in her lower back, curling around her spine—clenching her womb. The orgasm exploded in a massive flash of sensations and colors behind her closed eyelids. The muscles clamped down on his thick fingers, trapping them in her velvet heat...She giggled at the errant thought that fluttered through her brain. Velvet heat. It was too tame...too pretty for what they had been doing. Her pussy owned his hand. Possession was nine tenths of the law.
"That laugh of yours does something to my cock, Whiskey." He curled his trapped fingers and a full body shudder took over her. A smirk formed on his lips as he tasted her sweat slicked skin. Dex knew his control was all a surface act. The way her body moved, the expressions on her face, down to the way she whispered his name commanded his entire being. He loathed himself for it and needed her all in the same breath.
Slowly her body released its hold on his fingers and he slid them into his mouth, tasting the essence of her before allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. His tongue possessed hers as he drove deep into her core. Punishing her for her sweet dominion over him.
She pressed into him—eyes wide at his ruthless invasion. Sweet bliss saturated her nerves, polluting her brain with senseless incoherent thoughts. Nails digging into his back, she rose up to meet his harsh thrusts and whimpered at his retreats.
Dex was what she needed after a long day in the shop. His hips slapped against her jiggling ass. He lifted one of her toned legs onto his shoulder, driving his unrelenting length deeper she could swear the tip of his dick saluted the top of her uterus.
Blessed flexibility allowed her teeth to mark her pleasure into his shoulder. An animalistic groan ripped from his otherwise civilized throat sending a rush down her spine and moistening her cunt.
She was a waterfall for him. He buried his face in her neck and growled in her ear. This side of him was the reason she didn't wear panties, it would have ruined the expensive pieces of lace she liked to indulge in.
The way he looked at her when she tended her grandmother's garden should have been illegal. The way he handled her body was the eighth deadliest sin. His hands gripped her hips as he surged into her like a madman. Like her body contained his only reserves of oxygen. He cursed low under his breath and his lips found the soft skin of her neck when her body greedily clamped down on his cock.
Even as he invaded her body, she seeped into his very being. Dex considered himself a very disciplined man, but she was an addiction he knew he couldn't shake. She got to him in ways no one else could. She was honeyed whiskey on his tongue and he always ached for a taste. This wasn't supposed to happen again, much less the first time.
She disrupted the routine of life. His frequent erections, triggered just by the thought of her, usurped every bit of control that he spent all of his adult life cultivating. She was like the waves on a beach during a storm, beating away at the very core of him until he was consumed by lasting impressions of her.
He was Dr. Dex Traft, university anthropology professor on the verge of tenure—darling of the department. He kept to himself, when he wasn't with his family. He'd even moved into this seemingly sleepy suburb to get away from the bustle of the city and focus on his next publication. This was his cousin's fault.
Dex now spent his nights, when he wasn't balls deep in her weeping cunt, with his cock in one hand thinking about the next time her nails would grip his ass cheeks while he fed her his throbbing dick.
His cousin, Avery, hired her to repaint his study. When he came home she was lost in her own world while Sara Vaughan's sultry voice filtered through the surround sound. Dex was only supposed to rush in and grab the papers he left behind and take them back to his office on the university campus. He needed to be there during his office hours, this close to midterms. But his oxfords remained rooted to the floor of his study as his eyes zeroed in on the sway of her hips in the short, tight overalls that clung to her shapely bottom. Her hair, a confusing dark mass of tiny locs and soft ringlets of curls was pulled into a dark ponytail. Greedy eyes tracked the flesh colored vine tattoo that wrapped around her thigh. His tongue trailed his suddenly dry lips.
His cock swelled painfully in his slacks, reminding him that it had been months since he'd gotten laid. The paint splattered crop top rose dangerously high, giving him a brief glimpse of the black lacy bra underneath. What looked like tiny sporadic flecks of gold stars dotted her smooth brown skin. His palms itched with the need to trace them.
Dex had seen her several times before, in indecently short shorts tending to her grandmother's front garden, across the street. He'd secretly watched her a few times, from his study when she would stop her gardening to jump rope with the young girls next door. She was just as loud and as boisterous as the middle-schoolers.
He wanted to ignore her, but the way her ass shook in the shorts held him captivated. He dismissed her (or tried to) until that distracting ass was swaying in his study. Her honey colored eyes held his. She'd caught him staring.
A smirk traveled across supple, soft lips. She winked at him and went back to her brush strokes around the crown molding. She knew... and from the dimple in her right cheek and the extra sway in her hips, she liked it.
So, when he dropped the papers on his desk and approached her ladder, it only took him slightly by surprise that she'd dropped her brush on to the tarp covered floor, and leapt into his arms. Toned brown thighs wrapped around his waist. He staggered back against his desk, squeezing her ass in his hands.
It was late afternoon, but the semi-sheer top layers of the study curtains were drawn. No one would see them, unless they were looking for a show. She had no regard for her paint stained clothing ruining his cashmere sweater and designer slacks. Dex stopped caring when she ground down against his erection.
Lust and instinct intertwined and flooded his system. His wire framed glasses went flying as her tongue invaded his mouth. It was his first taste of the honey whiskey on her breath and he wanted nothing more than to just devour her. One of her hands was already under his shirt, raking her nails over his abs while her other hand fumbled with the drawer on his desk. She was a genius at multitasking, he deduced. Never breaking the rhythm of grinding her covered core into his erection, she kissed the hell out of him and fished out the condoms that Avery left in his drawer as a gag gift.
That was how it started with them. That is what kick started his addiction to her body. It was only after they'd spent the afternoon, riding each other into oblivion, did she introduce herself as Tennessee Hallings.
Four months later, she was here in his bed after she'd confessed to her shitty day over a shared bottle of honey Jack. She clenched around him again, bringing his mind back to the present. He slowed his rhythm and rolled his hips into hers, riding out her third orgasm before giving into his own. Tremors raced up his spine as he spilled into the condom.
Tennesse smiled contentedly as he withdrew from her and left to dispose of the full condom. He always knew how to give her what she needed, even when she knew she shouldn't take it. She lay sprawled naked across his bed, arms and legs akimbo. Their mingled scents were in the air and it ruined her post-coital high to dwell on how comforting that was to her. A sudden frown pulled down the corner of her kiss swollen lips.
Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't register the bed dipping under Dex's weight or him slipping between her thighs until he sucked her swollen clit between his lips and grazed the over-sensitized bundle of nerves with his teeth. Her hips immediately jacked off the bed and ground into his face. Her eyes rolled into her brain, and her fingers gripped the sweaty strands of his dark hair. His tongue dipped into her as sharp pleasure arced through her, sending her tail spinning into another unexpected orgasm. His chuckled cut through erotic fog in her brain.
"That's the only face you better have, when you are in my bed." She didn't have time to respond when his tongue delved back into her dripping body.