Page 11 of Mr. McBeefcake

chapter

six

Donovan

She chuckles and shakes her head.

“I’m serious. I want to know. Because right now it’s sounding a lot like we both were crushing on each other, and we let other people and imagined conflicts stand in our way.”

That fucking pisses me off. To know that I could have had my KitKat for the last twelve years or more and instead she’s been absent. This gaping hole I could never fill, no matter how hard I trained or how many hours of taped play I watched, didn’t have to be there.

“It was just a crush,” she finally says. “A silly teenage crush.”

I grip her hips and pull her further to the edge of the countertop so I can better wedge my body between her thick thighs. Thighs I want to spend a whole day between, licking and sucking and discovering all the ways to make her moan and scream.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice sounding a little breathless.

“Testing a theory,” I tell her.

Her pupils widen, the black nearly swallowing up the pretty green of her irises. There’s one confirmation for my theory. Now for the next.

I lean closer to her, almost hugging her to my chest. But I press my face against that sweet spot between her collarbone and her neck. I inhale deeply, and fuck me, she smells amazing. My mouth waters and my already hardening dick thickens a bit more. I run my nose up the side of her throat, feeling the beat of her pulse increase as I go.

She wants me.

“Tell me something, KitKat.”

“Hmm?” she asks, leaning into my touch.

“Do you have a boyfriend or anything like that?”

“No.”

I lean back to look into her face. “Excellent.”

She licks her lips. “Why is that excellent?”

“Because now I can do this.” I cup her face, then lower my lips to hers. The first brush is gentle, testing.

But then her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers threading into my hair. I growl and press my tongue against the seam of her mouth, demanding entrance. She complies.

Our kiss becomes desperate. All lips and tongues and teeth. We are ravenous for each other. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling my body closer to hers.

I want to tear all of her clothes off and lick every pale, creamy swath of her skin.

I lift her off the counter and she wraps herself around my body. In this position, I can feel the heat of her core through my athletic shorts. I back her against the refrigerator, giving myself more leverage to simultaneously kiss her and rock my dick across the hidden seam of her pussy.

Her head tilts back against the fridge and I use the opportunity to explore the exposed skin of her neck. I lick and bite, nibbling my way across the sensitive skin. All the while I dry hump her.

The number of times I wanted to do this to her when we were teenagers is limitless. Already she feels damn perfect in my arms. Her plump ass fits perfectly in the palms of my hands.

“Can you feel how badly I want you?” I ask, pressing my hardness to her softness.

“Yes.”

“Tell me you want me too. Tell me I can have you.” I kiss her again trying to tell her with my actions what I can’t say yet with my words.

But then she breaks. She cries out and her body gently quakes its release against me.