Page 94 of Dock

Warmly.

Tightly.

Groaning can’t be stopped and neither can cupping her face with both hands, leaving the flowers no choice but to plummet to the ground.

I wish my mouth could gently part hers.

I wish my tongue would softly stroke.

At least once.

Twice might be nice.

But it doesn’t.

It can’t.

I. Can’t.

Poorly controlled lashes begin pinning hers in place, demanding it submit.

Surrender.

Accept my apology.

Feel my proclamation.

My promises.

Harder rolls slowly transpose into more thoughtful and more tender thrashes, determined to prove there’s more than just the rough side of me.

There’s the side that only she brings out.

That only she sees.

That only she has the privilege to experience.

Soft moaning barely precedes Emmerz needily pawing at my chest right underneath my cut, an action that convinces me to clumsily pull back.

Lower my grip to her hips.

Yank her fuzzy bottoms and panties down past her ankles.

Emmerz gasp at seeing them thrown inside and being so openly exposed is cut short courtesy of me effortlessly lifting her up.

Pinning her to the doorframe.

“Wh…” can’t finish being formed because of the frenzied way I’m positioning her dangling legs over my shoulder so that I can press my anxious tongue against her soaking wet clit. “Ohmyg-” A single spank of correction is given to the curve of her perfect ass. “H!”

See.

Always a faster learner.

While one whirl, one taste, one desperate display to let her know I’m just as eager to have her as she is me, is all I originally planned, the familiar, intoxicating flavors that flow across my tongue easily rewrite my intention.

Lead me to greedily licking.

And lapping.