“Prove it, vixen.” Brock threw his head back and rested his neck on the headrest.
Trixie cupped his balls. She dropped her mouth over his hard length, sucking as she took him to her throat and tightened her puckered lips around his size.
Her wicked fingers traced the veins in his sac, mashing against them with deliberate pressure. The pleasure-pain shot through his shaft and he lifted his hips, launching a rhythmic beat.
Trixie spread his thighs and gripped them with those damning claws. Her nails raked across his flesh. She suckled the end of his cock and took her time torturing him, making him want, making him need.
“Suck, vixen,” he growled, throwing the weight of his dick forward.
He wanted to come. He needed to find his release. But there she was, rising and falling over him with a speed as slow as a gentle wake rolling toward shore.
“Fuck me with those pretty lips, sugar.”
“Will you reward me?” she asked, sliding her tongue forward and back.
“Damn straight,” he grated out, gripping the handlebar above his head.
Her eyelashes fluttered. She lowered her chin and took him to her throat, letting him tap her tonsils as he worked after his release.
“There you go,” he rasped. His words were clipped as he struggled to hang on for another second, just one…more…moment.
Trixie pressed her thumb to the base of his shaft. Her cheeks swelled with his size.
“Ah God!” he screamed.
He pumped his hips faster and faster. He used the balls of his feet and threw his weight forward, forcing his cock down her throat.
“You’re gonna get it now, baby.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, vibrating against his shaft.
His balls burned. His cock lengthened. His crest tapped against the roof of her mouth. “Fuck!”
She gripped his dick with a tight suction and he jerked violently against her. His release poured into her mouth as she swallowed rapidly, her body writhing against the seat as she worked out her own sexual frustration while delivering him over the edge of satisfaction.
“Ah, baby, you’re so good to me,” he crooned, patting her ass.
Dragging a tube from the pocket door, he doused his fingers in lube and parted her globes, enjoying the way her mouth stayed on his cock, working him back into an easy erection soon after his release. Stuffing his fingers between her cheeks, he probed her sensitive entrance.
“Brock,” she whispered, nuzzling him.
“Relax, precious,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I’m about to give you one hell of a surprise.”
Chapter Forty-Five
The tubular vibrations were driving her mad. Her nipples throbbed from the overactive sensations zipping through her breasts. She could’ve come with very little inspiration, but then Brock thrust his fingers inside her ass and it was all over in a matter of seconds.
She writhed under him, twisting and turning as her orgasm shook through her. Brock rubbed the texture of her channel with the pads of his fingers as she ground against the leather seat, needing more, wanting a truer fulfillment.
“Brock, please!” she cried out as three firm digits speared her rectum, puncturing her tighter entrance with giving fingers but not quite removing that slow burn, that insatiable urge clenching her pussy.
“I need more,” she begged, her head resting on his thigh. “More, Sir. Give me just a little bit more.”
“Quit whining, Trix,” Rory said, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s unattractive.”
She pushed her body upward and stuck her head over the front seat. “You just sit up there and be quiet.”
Rory nodded at Brock, and Brock raised his arm high, giving her a firm smack on the ass. “Respect, Trixie. You always show us respect.”
“It’s earned, Sir,” she told him. “And with that spicy male taste of yours still tingling against my tongue, I can only think of one way for you to earn it right now.”
He spanked her again. This time, several slaps were delivered in repetition. She jerked against him, savoring each smack, wishing for one more but longing for something else far more fulfilling.
“Fuck me, Sir. Please don’t make me wait.”
Brock’s fingers swept across her belly. His caresses were soft but aggressive as his hand slid up and down, from one side to the other.
Without warning, he unhooked the first clamp and she moaned as a shard of pleasure-pain whipped around her tight nipple. A second later, she braced for the removal of the other clamp, fully expecting the rubbing and pampering from Brock’s attentive hand but only minimally disappointed when he didn’t deliver.
His erection grew against her neck and she teased him by rubbing the underside of her chin against the crest. Fluttering her eyelashes, she said, “I need to practice my Kegels. All pregnant women need to practice them, you know.”