Pump Two

by J. Cherry

“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not. Last time you called me a name, you came all over my face.”

I intend to do every filthy, hell-binding act with him. Wherever and whenever.

All he needs to do is whisper everything he wants to do to me in his gravelly voice, and I might just explode on the spot.

I continue with my unconventional method of depriving myself of oxygen for the sake of giving Devon the best head of his life.

“If I cum, it’s going to be inside of you,” he pants, his hands skating up my legs.

“You like the sound of that? You like the thought of someone walking in and seeing us like this? My dirty fucking Violet.”

My back arches as he lifts my head by my hair. His mouth sits against the side of my face, tongue brushing along my cheekbone as he tastes my tears.

“Well, that’s what friends are for, right? One of us spirals about something minor, and the other makes them see sense. Or I could just feed into your delusions.”

“If you really want to see my face, you need to beg for it.”

“Bend over, Violet.”

I want to feel her arousal seeping down my chin in an uncontrollable stream, just like it did when I devoured her on my bike. I know that she’s turned on, but I want proof. Slick, wet proof.

His knife scrapes across his plate and it makes my teeth hurt.

He has small freckles dotted across his nose. Cute.

He bumps helmets with me, as if to substitute an affectionate peck on the cheek.

I love reacting like his words are out of pocket, as if I haven’t been thinking the same thing.

“Don’t think, just do,” he urges.

“Your girl?” “Always have been, Sweetness,”

“Spit,” he murmurs softly.

“I will never get tired of you.”

I observe him curiously when he bends down so his eyes are level with my pussy. “Watching my cum leak out of you is one of the hottest things I’ve ever fucking seen.”