Kim Is A Squirter

EROTICA EXCERPT

Kim has her shirt up and over her head before I get the chance to unbutton it slowly, which is great. I’m not sure I have the dexterity for it.

She kisses me while she unbuttons my shirt. Her lips are bitter and a little salty — whiskey and sweat — and that is absolutely fine with me. Her tongue licks across mine, tangling around it until I give it a nip that shoots a quiver through her body.

Her chest presses against mine as I sit up, and her skin is warm and soft over lean muscles and a slight frame. I’m used to more rounded women — I’ve never been picky and statistically speaking, most women are larger — so there’s that irrational fear of harming Kim. Like she’s so fragile she’ll break in my hands.

But the human body is incredibly resilient.

I won’t test that, not yet. I run my hand up her spine, and her head drops back. She arches, thrusting her chest upward, and I dip down and lick the swell of her breast rising out of her bra cup. A line of nibbles down the seam, and the beautiful thing about bras that fasten with those little plastic doodads in the front is how easy they are to pop off.

Her breasts are no more than a handful, but her nipples are dark, long, and dainty, begging to be sucked on. I pull one into my mouth while I knead the other one, and she digs her fingers into my hair and her groin into my thighs.

“Fuck me, Flynn!” she gasps. “Fuck, why are my pants still on?”

“Here, let me fix that.” I flip her, and she squeals out a loud, high pitched laugh. I can’t resist chomping down on her shoulder to get a much louder shriek out of her, and it revs me up. This is it. It’s stupid the rut I’ve been in. I can have fun tonight, do a bunch of weird shit and have some laughs and feel really good for a minute or two.

I nip my way down between her breasts, past her sternum, down her flat, flawless stomach, and then I grab her pants and tug them down with her panties in one move. I run more kisses down her leg until the pants get caught up on her stilettos. I mutter, “Oops.”

She hoists herself up on her elbows to watch me deal with the tangled mess. “Seriously, boy, they’re shoes.”

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