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Mr. Sugar: A disturbing psychological thriller with a twist of dark romance

Page 45

by L. D. Fox


  He immediately shoved that glistening dick inside me. Grabbed both my hips and yanked me closer.

  Deeper. Harder.

  Filling me, tearing me open.

  I cried out, grabbing his shoulders, using them as leverage to lift my hips into his thrusts.

  Even deeper. How? It wasn’t possible.

  I was building to a monumental climax. I shuddered, my mouth a static ‘o’ that would barely have accommodated his girth.

  Kendra had recovered — she bent down over my stomach and flicked the tip of her tongue over my clit.

  “Oh fuck,” I yelled. “Fuck yes. Harder. Oh my God.”

  Thor, encouraged by my enthusiastic outburst, slammed into me with renewed vigor. His fingers dug into either side of my sex, dragging me open, perhaps trying to find more space to shove his dick into.

  There wasn’t any. He was slamming right against my fucking cervix.

  Again and again. Each thrust skidded me back over the rumbling, vibrating dryer but I would simply drag myself back, arching my back so my clit stood proud for Kendra to suckle.

  His fingers delved down, the tip of his index finger dipping less than a millimeter into my oh-so-tight backdoor.

  “Fuck!” came another demonic wail from my lips.

  He grabbed me, kissed me. Silenced me. I moaned and screamed into his mouth. It was too much. I was breaking apart. Kendra’s mouth swallowed me whole — so soft and hot — a scorching vacuum that threatened to pull my clit off.

  Thor’s cock impaled me again and again, but I could feel him quivering and pulsing, knew he was inches away from cumming.

  I tried to cry out again, but Thor’s lips muted me.

  Kendra pulled away from me. “Come on, Tessa. He’s fucking you so hard. Why aren’t you cumming?”

  I moaned, quivered. Bucked my hips up. Grabbed her hair and shoved her mouth over my clit again.

  Thor rammed into me, held steady, filling me entirely. Kendra’s tongue flicked up against my exposed clit.

  I exploded, tearing my mouth away so that I could scream.

  “Thor! Fuck!” My hips went wild, bucking like a horse on amphetamines. I groaned, climaxing while Kendra’s teeth grazed my clit and Thor’s dick was still buried balls-deep into my quivering sex. I barely felt him spurting hot jets of liquid into me.

  Warmth enveloped me, my skin tightening until I couldn’t breathe.

  And then that sweet, gorgeous release.

  Waves of ecstasy rolled over me, spreading from my sex to my whole body. Stroking me. Easing me back from the brink of death-by-pleasure.

  Thor squeezed my breasts, bringing a last shudder from me. He quivered inside me, drawing out his cock a bare inch before shoving it back. He growled deep in his throat, his face contorted in agony, in pleasure. Kendra had drawn back, watching the spectacle of this muscled god pouring himself into me as he shuddered, trembled, stilled.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, running my hands down my face.

  Kendra took an unsteady step back, wobbling as she grabbed hold of the dryer.

  “You can say that again,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

  Thor shoved into me a last time, making me whimper, and then drew out. He held his cock at its base, studying it as it quivered and bounced in his hand. Then he slapped my clit with it, splashing me with creamy cum and making me whimper again.

  I drew back in case he had more shenanigans in store for me. I was done — utterly, thoroughly done. Exhausted. Satisfied into early next Wednesday.

  “So…” Kendra murmured breathlessly. She ran the tips of her fingers down Thor’s chest. “You like America?”

  Thor finally drew his eyes away from his cock and bent to retrieve his underwear. He gave us both a lazy scoundrel of a grin and a single-shoulder shrug. Dragging on his briefs, he studied us both in detail for a few seconds, lingering on my gaping sex, Kendra’s pendulous breasts.

  He walked around the dryers and glanced into the washing machine. Kendra and I exchanged a confused, weary smile, turning back to him as he faced us. He put his hands on the dryer behind me, his sultry smile intensifying.

  “I’m from Brooklyn,” he said, not a trace of an accent remaining. “So… you gals come here often?”

  * * *

 

 

 


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