Tara Strong Hot Novels & Stories

her. I position myself so the tip of my cock is at the heat of her pussy, and I take her breasts again so I have leverage as I glide home. Her skin might be cool, but her fucking pussy is the hottest thing to ever slide over my cock. Her nipples are little pebbles that grow tighter the more I play with them. These are the things I don't do with a professional. I let them get themselves off. It's pure selfishness on my part because I love to watch a woman please herself.

Dax The kickass look in her eyes makes my dick hard. The burn of desire is gone and now she burns with hatred. And all that hatred centers on me. I know exactly where she gets her temper. Fox was like that too. Hot and cold. Warm never worked into the equation for him. I guess I’m convinced she’s who she says she is. Why the hell would a Hispanic woman show up at this club? There’s not exactly a welcome mat out front for anyone with dark skin. Claiming to be his daughter is too crazy not to be true.

Stronger than your hate. I want to say no. I want to deny it. But my treacherous body has begun to tremble, not from fear, but from unbearable tension. The warmth of his hands through the fabric, the scent of him, clean and masculine, mixed with the perfume of the flowers, the overwhelming proximity of his powerful body... it's an assault. And my body capitulates, cell by cell. — Kassian... His name escapes me, a plea I didn't intend. He growls, a sound of pure, savage satisfaction.

She turned to her friends. "Girl, you look dope!" It was Tara John. Short for Omotara John. The sexiest super bikini model and actress in the city. Tara was twenty two years old. More like the youngest among her group of friends but the one with the smartest tongue and biggest gut. Tara was fearless and the kind of model who loves to live her life as she deems fit without looking at snide comments from haters.

Part 4 Kendra slowly approached the counter, eyes roaming over Tara's oiled body. "Fuck, look at you," Kendra breathed, reaching out to stroke Tara's breast. "Damon, you've really worked her over good." Damon grinned, moving aside to let Kendra have a better view. Tara trembled as Kendra's fingers traced over her body, teasing her sensitive nipples and tracing the curves of her hips. "God, I never realized how hot you are," Kendra purred, pinching Tara's nipple hard. "I always knew there was something special about you, but I never thought we'd end up here."

Tara pushed her hips back against him, feeling the hard ridge of his erection through his jeans. “You’re all talk,” she teased, “Show me what else you got. I need that cock of yours fucking my pussy.” Greg watched as her butt moved against his erection, making him groan low in his throat. “You really want us to get right into it, don't you?” She nodded eagerly. “Yes. Fuck me so rough, Landlord.”

Is Tara going to believe it? ***************

she moaned, pushing back against him despite the guilt burning in her chest. Thirty minutes earlier, Tara had walked through the front door after months away, her body still buzzing from the long drive. She found Zane mid-workout, shirtless and glistening with sweat, his muscular chest and abs flexing as he lifted weights. At twenty-six, the ex-military personal trainer looked even more commanding than she remembered. Their eyes locked and the air instantly thickened with unspoken hunger.

This was just for us. Or at least… that’s what I thought. Zara Lennox, 26, one of the biggest lifestyle influencers in Los Angeles, was getting absolutely destroyed in her own living room at 2:17 AM, moaning like a pornstar while her boyfriend’s thick cock stretched her dripping pussy. “Goddamn, Zara,” Felix groaned, gripping my hips tighter, his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust. “You’re so fucking wet tonight. Been thinking about this all day while you were filming that ‘morning routine’ bullshit?”

"Just... the chair is a bit uncomfortable." Mateo’s hand didn't move. It stayed there, large and hot, his fingers beginning a slow, agonizing crawl up her inner thigh. Ariana’s breath caught in her throat. She tried to shift away, but the booth was narrow, and Mateo’s grip was absolute. He didn't just touch her; he claimed her, his hand moving higher, his thumb tracing the seam of her silk shorts under her skirt. "You should try the tartare, Ariana," Mateo said, his voice smooth and professional, even as his fingers reached the sensitive, damp heat between her legs. "It’s a specialty of the house. Very raw. Very primal."