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“You’re doing so good, Freckles,” I say, kissing below her ear as I thrust harder. My voice is shaky, but I keep praising her. “Taking it so fucking well.”
We were in Edinburgh and a guy opened the door for her while I was at the ATM, and I imagined his body in a morgue and me behind bars.
It’s like a mixture of love and not being able to breathe unless she’s around – thoughts that run wild wondering what she’s doing, where she is, if she’s thinking of me. It’s the butterflies that flutter like maniacs when I know I’m going to see her soon. The Stacey Rhodes Effect.
“Your cum is leaking out of me,” she randomly tells me as she takes a picture of our boarding passes. The group of grannies nearby give us a horrifying look. “No, I’m serious. When I sneezed? Boom.”
“Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you for ages – it’s been all I’ve thought about. And I keep falling more in love with you every single fucking day.”
“Make them go away, Freckles.” “Make what go away?” I manage to ask. “The voices.”
Kade: Run and hide. Unless you want everyone to witness me fucking you? Having an audience won’t stop me – I’ll take you in front of the entire party.
A man of few words, yet they’re enough to make my pussy throb.
