Brooklyn And Dwight
- LECTURAS 189
- Votos 10
- Partes 4
Continúa11m
Última publicación dom, mar 25, 2018
" Does this look like a little girl body to you?" she asked taking a long puff of the blunt.
Dwight licked his lips and looked her up and down with raised eyebrows.
She blew the smoke in his face and sat on his lap. She rubbed the little wound on the side of his face. Dwight remained with a straight face, keeping his body relaxed and hands to himself.
"Dwight you never think about us or what we could be...what we could do for each other." she parted her lips and let then graze against his closed ones.
The softness of her lips tempting him to taste, soon he opened his mouth along with her and they kissed, his tongue overpowering hers.
After awhile she reached down to touch below his belt, but before she could grab anything, her stopped her and pushed her away.
" wassup with you?" she said confused and feeling embarrassed for being rejected.
" Aye, chill out with all that Brooklyn," he said angrily. " I'm a grown ass man and I don't play games with little girls. In my eyes you will always be like my Lil sister." He laughed, awkwardly.
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#204
urbanromance
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He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.
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