Steve Roger is down on his luck-broke college student working for peanuts bartending just to stay alive; no matter what he does, life keeps knocking him down and taking him. One night, a woman (Amelia Brandon) walks into the bar; with milk chocolate...
Life is starting to settle down a bit, so hopefully, fingers crossed I can start putting out chapters regularly again. We'll see; thank you so much for being amazing and so understanding!
I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Happy Reading!
-Sif💋
{This chapter is named after Fleetwood Mac You Make Loving Fun}
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Steve's chest rumbles happily, feeling the pinprick pain on his scalp as Amelia pulls his hair while he's lapping at her swollen clit. His chin is completely soaked with her juices and saliva; he wraps his puffy, darkened lips around her sensitive little numb and sucks.
"Oh fuck, baby boy," Amelia whines, biting her bottom lip.
He looks up, watching her back bow off the bed; he reaches up with one hand, grabbing her breasts, pinching and tweaking the nipple.
"Yes, baby, fuck, yes," she says breathlessly, her legs trembling around his ears. "That's it, sweet boy."
Between his legs, Steve's cock hangs hot and heavy, the fat head flushed a deep painful purplish red, throbbing with the beat of his heart. He reaches between his legs, wrapping a firm hand around his pulsating member, hissing at the touch.
"What do you think you're doing?" Amelia asks.
Steve glances up and sees her propped on her elbows, staring down at him; the look on her face is unimpressed, and fuck, Steve can't help but squirm.
"I was just—
"—Who's cock is that?" she interrupts.
Steve's stomach does a little dance, "Y-yours, ma'am," he replies, licking his lips.
"Mmm, that's right, baby boy," Amelia purrs, cupping his jaw with one hand, her thumb rubbing his bottom lip. "Now that's settled; what were you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Steve lowers his head, "This," he rasps, licking up her wet heat, not breaking eye contact.
"Make me cum, baby," she moans, laying back and giving in to the pleasure.
Before he dives back in, Steve asks, "Can I cum, too?" he looks at her with pleading eyes. "Please?"
"I think about it," Amelia says, chuckling at the whimper she received in reply. "Hush, sweet thing," she coos, running her fingers through his short blonde hair. Steve groaned in frustration, desperately wanting to rut himself against the mattress. "Make it good, baby, and I'll let you cum," she said, pitying the younger man.
Steve dove back in, lapping and sucking; he slid a thick digit in as his tongue flicked over her clit. Her breathy little sounds and moan urged him on; he could feel her pussy start to contract, wanting to watch the moment she fell apart. Steve looked up, sliding another finger into her crooking them up.
