SIN & SEDUCTION

Chapter 6; Spreading My P*ssy For Two (2)

Valerie

For two days, I struggled with my thoughts on forgiving him.

I ignore the calls and leave the texts he keeps sending unread but the first message stays in my head the whole time, the promise of his mouth on me with no mention of sharing, just enough to take the edge off the anger so I can leave clean if I still want to.

I can barely sleep and every time I close my eyes I feel his fingers from the night of his birthday, the way they pushed inside me while we kissed, and the memory makes the decision for me before I fully admit it.

On the second night I am already outside his building when I realize I have walked the whole way without deciding to.

The light is on in his window, I climb the stairs slower than I need to and my knuckles feel unsteady when I finally knock.

Cannon opens the door like he has been standing there the entire time. He does not smile or reach for me.

He simply steps aside so I can walk in and the apartment smells the same as it always does, warm and lived-in, the birthday cake already cleared from the desk.

I move past him into the kitchen because the bedroom still reminds me of our argument.

He follows without a word, the only light comes from the fixture over the stove, burning in yellow flames.

I set my bag on a chair, turning to face him. He is already close enough that I can feel the heat of his body.

He does not ask if I am sure or if I want to talk. His hands settle on my waist and he lifts me onto the counter in one steady motion so the cold surface presses against the backs of my thighs.

I draw a sharp breath, he pushes my knees apart and steps between them the same way he did on the bed two nights ago.

His eyes stay on mine while he reaches under my skirt and hooks his fingers into the sides of my underwear, dragging them down my legs and off completely before letting them drop to the floor.

Both hands slide back under the fabric of the skirt and shove it up around my waist until I am bare from the hips down, legs spread on the edge of his kitchen counter. He looks at me for a long moment, then lowers his head.

The first stroke of his tongue is broad and wet, dragging from my entrance all the way up to my c**t like he is reclaiming something.

I grip the edge of the counter hard enough that my knuckles ache. He does it again, slower, then closes his mouth over the swollen bud and sucks with steady pressure while his tongue works tight circles against me.

One hand spreads my folds open so nothing is hidden from him and the other clamps around my thigh to keep me from closing my legs.

He eats me without hurry or mercy, the wet sounds of his mouth loud in the quiet kitchen, my own slick juice coating his chin and the insides of my thighs.

Every time my hips try to rock against his face he presses me harder against the counter and keeps the same relentless rhythm until my thighs start to tremble.

He feels the change and slides two thick fingers inside me while his tongue stays locked on my c**t, curling them against the spot that makes my breath stutter.

I come with my heels slamming against the cabinet doors and my fingers buried in his hair, pulling hard while the orgasm rolls through me in hard waves.

He does not pull away the second it ends, he keeps licking me through the aftershocks until my legs stop shaking, then stands up.

His mouth is shiny with my juice, he wipes it with the back of his hand but his eyes never leave my face.

I’m still breathing hard when he opens his jeans and frees his c**k, already thick and the head flushed, beading with pre c*m.

He lines himself up and drives into me in one long continuous thrust that stretches me open and fills me completely.

A broken sound leaves my throat, he holds still for a single heartbeat, buried to the hilt, then starts f*****g me hard and deep without being gentle.

His hands lock around my thighs and keep them forced wide so he can watch every inch of himself disappear inside me.

The edge of the counter digs into my ass with every impact. Each thrust lands so deep I feel it in my stomach.

I brace myself on my hands and take everything he gives, the anger still simmering somewhere underneath but drowned by the raw stretch and the way he looks at me while he f***s me hard.

He leans in and kisses me roughly, his tongue pushing into my mouth so I taste myself on him, then pulls back to keep watching my face as he pounds into me.

When I start to slide on the smooth surface he hauls me closer to the edge, changing the angle so he can f**k me even deeper, and the new depth makes my second orgasm build so fast.

I try to stay quiet but a loud moan tears out of me anyway as I clench around him, shaking hard while he keeps the same brutal pace straight through it.

He follows right after, slamming into me and holding there while he empties himself inside me with a low groan against my neck.

For a long moment neither of us moves. I can feel the hot pulse of him still buried deep and the slow trickle of his release starting to leak out around his c**k when he finally pulls free.

My legs stay open. I remain sitting on the counter with my skirt bunched around my waist, body marked and used.

Cannon steps back only far enough to look at me properly. His chest rises and falls hard.

He reaches out and drags his thumb once across my lower lip, slowly. I do not climb down or reach for my underwear.

The anger I feel is gone now, pushed under the throb between my legs and the plain fact that I came back because I love being f****d by him.