I licked her juicy pussy and traveled up her body with my tongue tasting every inch of her. I loved her taste. Making my way to her lips, I gently bit them, and then kissed her tenderly. My cock was throbbing so hard, and I really wanted to be inside of her, but I tried to take it slow.
Plunging my tongue into her mouth, I began to work each of her breasts with my hands. I kneaded them, and then pinched her nipples between my fingers. We were both breathing really hard, and she kept sighing with satisfaction. No doubt, I was bringing her pure fucking bliss.
Swirling my tongue around in her mouth, I positioned myself at her entrance and then slowly sank inside her until I was balls deep. I sat there for a minute letting her adjust to me. “You okay?”
“Never felt better, don’t stop.” She began rocking her hips into mine and I started to move with her. We were making love at a delicious pace.
Not being able to hold back any longer, I increased my pace and started hammering into her. I felt her start to squeeze my cock, and I could feel myself ready to explode. “Come with me.”
And those words, we were both sent over the edge. We both spiraled into oblivion calling out one another’s names.
“Damien, that was amazing,” she said between pants.
“It was fucking phenomenal.”
That night, we didn’t get much shuteye. We made sweet love to one another until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer.
And I knew down to my bones that I had to put a ring on my girl sooner than later.
A week later
Damien
“Hey, Damien, there’s someone out front to see you,” Ginger the receptionist said.
“Ginger, can’t you tell I’m in the middle of a tat? They’ll have to wait until I’m done. You know I hate interruptions when I’m working on a tat.” I could hear the clip in my tone, but I couldn’t help it I was so focused and I didn’t want to stop. Damn interruptions. I resumed working on the large tribal art design that spread across my client's shoulder and back. I hated interruptions.
“Damien, I don’t think you want to make them wait.” Ginger knew the drill. When I was working with a client, there were no interruptions. This must be pretty important.
“Fuck, man, I’m sorry. I got to go check this shit out. I’ll be right back.” I set down my machine and took off my gloves.
“No problem. Take your time,” said my client. I’m sure he wanted a break. I’d been working on his piece for the last two hours and his skin had to be tender.
I walked out to the reception area and Ginger pointed to a woman who was there with a baby in a baby carrier. What the fuck did she want with me? She looked vaguely familiar. “Hi, what can I do for you?”
The baby started to cry, and the woman picked it up. “You don’t remember me?”
“I’m sorry, but I have no clue who you are. And I’m in the middle of a piece with a client, so you need to make it quick. ” She peered up at me from where she was sitting and her eyes narrowed.
“We had one night together around ten months ago. I can’t believe you don’t remember. It was hot.”
“Sorry, you are?” I need to get this shit over with and get to the fucking point.
She looked offended. “I’m Becca and this is your little boy, Mason.”
Did she just say my little boy? What the fuck was this chick talking about? I don’t even remember being with her, but if I were honest, I didn’t recognize half the chicks I’d fucked. I looked over my shoulder and Ginger seemed to be intently listening. I needed to take this shit to my office. “How about we go to my office where we can talk privately?”
“Sure, that would be perfect.” She gathered up the baby she said was mine and followed me back to my office.
We got into my office and I closed the door behind her. “So let’s get this straight. You’re saying that kid is mine?”
I looked down at him he looked nothing like me. He did have my hair color but so did his mom. So that really didn’t say much. Any person in my boots would freak the hell out, but I wasn’t the least bit frazzled. I knew I always gloved my shit before I engaged in any type of sexual act. There was always a chance that some of my sperm could have slipped out of the condom, but hell, I don’t think that was possible. I mean, condoms were ninety-nine percent effective. I’ve read the box. So the odds were in my favor here.
“Yes, I’m quite certain he’s yours.”
“Well, I always wrap my shit up, so I’m certain he isn’t mine.” I’ve never had a condom break, and there hasn’t been a time I went without other than with Sydney.