Kiss It Better
“Prick.”
“Cocktease.”
“Neanderthal.”
We trade insults as I thrust, our hips slamming together in the quiet office, and to anyone else’s ears, it might sound like we hate each other. But people who hate each other don’t cling on for dear life, like parting would be physically painful. Real enemies don’t sigh into each other’s mouths, and nip at each other’s throats, and swap whispered declarations of love between insults.
“Mine,” I pant, grinding my hips in slow circles. Jasmine’s getting closer now, her channel fluttering around my cock, and I snake a hand between us to rub at her clit and get her there.
Bab Populer