Chapter 9
KINGSTON “FROST”
We’re in another stare down, but she won’t win.
I’m determined to strip her of her jeans, and bury my face in her pussy.
Who fucking cares about the hair and blood?
Rubbing my face in her pubic hair will be pure essence, and inhaling her natural scent—pussy sweat and lubrication will make me punch-fucking-drunk.
Without breaking eye contact, I sit back on my heels, grab the sides of her jeans, and yank them down.
Stevie is fighting me by opening her legs to stop the jeans from riding lower while holding onto the top of them.
My cock throbs just watching her battle me.
I palm my erection through my jumpsuit, and her eyes follow my movement, widening as my dick twitches.
She swallows, shakes her head, clutching her jeans.
“It’s either my face or dick in your pussy. If you continue fighting me, I’ll be thrusting into you so hard, you’ll be deep throating me at the same time.”
I drop fast, catching myself on my hands, and capture her mouth.
I’m not gentle. It’s a bruising distraction.
My tongue dives into her mouth as I yank on her jeans until they’re past her ass, sucking her bottom lip between mine and biting it.
Her lip swells, so I kiss her and sit back to finish removing her jeans.
Stevie’s hands splay open over her underwear.
I howl when I see the thick baggy underwear.
They’re big enough for her to pull up and tuck her breasts inside.
I seize the sides of her underwear and rip them down the middle.
Stevie smacks my arms. “What the fuck?” She wiggles and kicks to free herself, and it makes me laugh. “I have to wear those.”
“No one has to wear those.”
She purses her lips to prevent herself from laughing. “It’s not funny.”
Her hands cup her pussy. I hold the torn underwear up, and there are no stains of any kind. Rebel is a little liar.
“I’ll have Stevens burn them.”
She shoots up onto her knees, snatching them out of my hand, giving me the opportunity to wrap my arms around her.
Our fronts are flushed, my hands slapping onto her ass cheeks and squeezing them.
Her small, round, heart-shaped ass is cushy and fits in my hands perfectly.
Stevie’s head comes up to my collarbone, so her head is thrown back to look at me.
“Nice ass, Rebel.”
“Why do you keep calling me Rebel?”
“Because you haven’t done anything I told you to do without a fight.”
My hands massage her ass cheeks while my hard cock pokes into her stomach.
Her green eyes are probably the downfall of many men.
Her arms squeeze between us, clasping the underwear, silently waiting for what’s next.
I shift my hands to the back of her thighs, lift both of them, causing her to fall onto her back.
Her knees are bent, thighs held open by my shoulders, and my eyes scan her bushy snatch.
She ain’t kidding about hairy. It’s like an invasion of tumbleweeds.
I reach forward, running my fingers through it, not expecting it to feel so.
..fluffy. My own furry kitten. Stevie hasn’t stopped staring at me while her hands attempt to cover her pussy.
I wrench her wrists over her head, and kiss down her body to her fuzzy snatch.
Her legs tremble, and I glance up to find her squeezing her eyes shut.
My teeth clamp down on her inner thigh, and I bite hard enough for her eyes to open. “You’re going to fucking watch me munch on your pussy. If those eyes close, I’ll bite other areas.”
Stevie has a sheen of sweat on her face, and she’s focused on me.
My eyes remain on hers as I drag my tongue from her asshole to her clit.
I groan through the movement, and her breath hitches.
Fuck the idea it’s against her consent. I can smell her arousal.
Pressing my face between her swollen lips, eyes on her, I inhale deeply.
Fuck me!
Tumbleweeds or not, she has a tangy smell like the sour IPAs I drink.
Intoxicating. I suck on one of her pussy lips, switch to the other, and then her clit.
Tears run down her cheeks while she releases soft murmurs and moans.
Rebel is torn between hate and lust. Looks like lust is winning. I smile against her pussy.
My tongue continues to drag from bottom to top, causing Stevie to squirm, because I’m too slow.
She needs friction. She needs to come. Too bad, Rebel, because torture is my gift.
Whether I’m torturing someone for information, or some bitch for pleasure, I love to relish in their discomfort and pain.
Her eyes beg me for a release while her face is a wet, blotchy mess.
Instead of complying, I switch to gripping her clit between my teeth and lightly stroke her ass crack.
Stevie’s body trembles from the internal buzzing of the mass of nerves in her ass.
She begins to close her eyes. I clamp down on her clit enough to awaken her. My finger slides inside, twirling in sync with my tongue around her tight bud. Stevie jams her fist into her mouth, pelvis rising as she comes. My elbows press down on her thighs, and I continue.
“Stop! Please, King.”
Fuck that!
I slurp up her juices, gliding my tongue up and down her slit, circling her clit, and fingering her. I’m lost in her pussy. It’s addicting, and I have no plans on stopping any time soon. She’ll leave here raw and chapped, with the memory of what I can do to her body.
Four orgasms later, I pause to celebrate her twitching limbs and whimpers.
I’ve drenched her pussy in saliva and cum, and she’s still prime.
Of course, she needs my cock to satiate her, but not yet.
It takes all my will not to fuck her. Out of all the pussy I’ve had, none has ever been better.
She’s the ultimate smokeshow. A dime! My Rebel will remember this moment and beg me to fuck her next time.
I kneel on the bed, grab hold of her thighs, lifting until she’s upside down in a handstand. She holds herself up by pressing her hands and the top of her head into the mattress.
Stevie squeaks out, “What are you doing?”
Always with the questions, because I’m surprising her at every turn.
I dip my head down and feast on her pussy again.
This position will make her lightheaded, and hopefully, add to her orgasm.
Her heels dig into my shoulder blades while she balances on the bed.
I’m fucking going to town on her pussy. In a low moan, Stevie begs me to stop as the sound of her juices echoes in the room.
She jabs her heels harder into me, locks up, and groans out her release.
It’s the fucking best musical beat. I drop her thighs, lift and scoot her upwards, placing her head on the pillow and settling between her legs. Her soaked hair sticks to her wet face and her eyes drift closed. I watch Rebel’s breathing return to normal.
Before she’s about to fall asleep, I jump off the bed, pull her up by the arms, dragging her to the chair.
Once seated, I scoot mine closer, like always, tap her face to get her attention, and slip my finger inside her mouth.
Her eyes widen as my finger slides over her teeth and tongue. I want her comfortable.
“Love your pussy, Rebel. Now chill.” This makes her tense again. “I fucking said chill. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Unfortunately, she doesn’t, so I go ahead with it anyways. My finger inches toward the back of her throat, and she grabs my hand to stop it. Poor Rebel hasn’t figured out she’s no match for me.
I push it further and say, “Relax your throat.”
This has her doing the opposite, which pisses me off.
Tears sprout and she starts to gag. I shove my hand inside her mouth until her teeth are biting into my knuckles.
She’s gagging, scratching at my hand, kicking out her legs, but I continue.
Out of nowhere, she smacks me in the face, and my hand slips out enough for her to push away from me and run into the washroom where she vomits.
Fuck! Deep throat ain’t her talent.
The door opens and Stevens comes into the room. “Two hours is over with.”
He sees Stevie hunched over the toilet, naked from the waist down, and for some reason, him seeing her naked bothers me, so I step in front of him.
Don’t know why. A bitch ain’t any different from another.
I give a chin nod toward the door, and he turns for it.
Looking over my shoulder, I see her teary eyes blink up at me as she swipes at her mouth, and I wink and smile.
With my hand on the door handle, I say to her, “Next time, you’ll get used to having a dick in your mouth.”