Page 101 of Stroked Hard
Time for Melony to learn a little something about myself: I love to dance . . .
Chapter Twenty-Two
MELONY
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
That’s all I can think as my bare ass presses against the cool wood of my desk chair and Hollis Knightly starts pulling some kind of sexy-as-hell Magic Mike dancing.
It starts with his feet floating on the floor in all types of moonwalking ways, his hands gripping on his head, his back muscles flexing with every erotic move he makes with his body.
The beat of the song rings through the room, his motions pop-locking with each beat, his hips undulating with every pause, hitting the mark of the song.
I’m wet . . . immediately.
His feet turn together like a pretzel, only for him to twist out of it and face me. One hand is playing in his longer locks on the top of his head, his other hand lazily swaggering with his body as he works his way closer, his gaze penetrating me from under his lashes.
Just as the beat drops, he hops in front of me, legs spread, straddling my chair. His heavenly cologne assaults me, sending my head into a tailspin of lust while his shorts ride so fucking low on his hips that I’m acutely aware of the bulge starting to penetrate the fabric.
Gripping the back of my chair with one hand, he leans slightly back so I have a great view of his chest and stomach rolling right in front of me. What I wouldn’t give to lean over and press my tongue up the entire length of his torso.
I’ve never been so easily or completely turned on in my entire life. My clit is throbbing with each thrust of his, with every pass of his hand over his chest, and every glance he takes my way.
I watch in fascination as his hips start to lower to mine, moving back and forth, his cock starting to grow with each thrust. When he lands on my lap, he starts to roll his hips on top of mine, dipping his cock into my core only to roll it up with his hips. The sensation of feeling his hardened cock graze me is so intimate, sensual that I try to spread my legs to feel his tip against my heated core but he keeps my legs clamped together with his.
Leaning forward, his hips still working me, he gingerly wraps one arm around my neck, his fingers playing with my hair as he whispers in my ear. His rough, yet velvety voice sucking me in. “What did I tell you about that pussy? Keep your legs closed until I tell you otherwise.”
I groan from his demand. Doesn’t he realize how badly I need to spread them? Doesn’t he know how much I’m throbbing for a light graze? The buildup of my arousal has hit a limit and right about now, any sort of rub against my slit would be appreciated.
“Please, Hollis.” I try to press my legs against his to indicate what I want, but he doesn’t give in.
Continuing to undulate his hips, he runs his lips along my neck, sending tingling needle-like pricks up and down my spine. He’s hitting every single sense of mine, making me melt right into the chair. His spare hand grips my hip, his thumb rubbing my skin in tandem with his thrusts, slowly working their way up to my breast where he looks at the connection and in rhythm with the song, pinches the hardened nub. I cry out from the pleasure shooting to my clit.Oh my fucking God, I’m coming.
I’m pounding inside waves of pleasure rocketing straight form my core, making every limb on my body numb. I squirm beneath him but he doesn’t let up, he continues to assault my nipple, plucking it with such force that I think I might come once again just from his touch.
“Oh God.” My head falls back and my hips try to move against him but he’s much bigger than me, making it impossible.
When I think I’m about to explode from his deft fingers, he pulls away, and flips his body so now his back is to my chest. He rocks his ass into my lap, his hands on my knees now, keeping them closed. His legs are spread and with every roll of his hips, I feel his cock on my legs, heavy and ready.
Why is it such a turn-on to feel him turned on as well?
His hands move my knees, swiveling them together so my pussy rocks against the wood of the chair with each shift. I easily slide along the chair, my arousal making it easy. When I feel like I will have no relief, he spreads my legs, letting the cool air hit me, the ceiling fan above us whipping the air in the room.
You always hear that term about people getting off from a light breeze. Fuck me, I think it’s about to happen.
I try to press my hips forward, searching for any kind of friction, when Hollis closes my knees shut before I can seek any sort of relief. A tortured cry comes out of me. Hollis doesn’t care. Instead, he continues to roll his hips while slowly opening and closing my knees in time with the music. The move is just enough to make me think I might find some sort of release but it never puts me over the edge, instead it’s one fucked-up way to edge me out.
“Hollis,” I practically yell.
Turning again, he has his hands on my shoulders, his hips never relenting. “Have something to say, baby?”
“You’re torturing me.”
He smiles down at me, his scruff making him look sinister. “Good.”
Lifting up, he moves his legs in and out, thrusting his erection in my direction, the thin fabric of his shorts hiding absolutely nothing. There is a light dot of pre-cum soaking through, which makes my clit throb harder.
Muscles flex in front of me as he lowers his body down to the ground, only to hold himself up in a bridge position with one hand, the other hand in his hair as he thrusts into the air. Waves of abs contract below me. And his erection . . .Oh God.
