knees.
“Give me your hand, Conrad,” she demanded, spreading her legs.
“Why?”
“You’re not naïve,” she told him, encouraging him to touch her thighs.
Like an obedient submissive, he reached for her. She clasped her hand around his wrist, drawing his fingers toward her while shifting her weight and hiking up her dark, pleated skirt. When he cupped her pussy, her heat literally burned the palm of his hand. The only plausible solution he could think of was to soothe her, cool the fire only he had the ability to contain.
Her hair swirled around her shoulders when she leaned her head back. “There,” she said softly, grinding against his palm. “Finger me slow, Conrad.”
Conrad stared at the lovely beauty. He was aroused by the way she responded to his effort and just as turned on by her gorgeous features. A short crop top eased its way around her perky breasts in a way to highlight the fullness the short shirt did little to conceal.
Her knees fell apart. She braced herself with her limbs on either side of her hips, rising and falling with his manual stimulation, moaning and groaning, practically grunting when she rose and fell in tempo.
“Eat me,” she directed.
And like it was a necessity, possibly even a house rule, his lips claimed her pussy, and he dined on the most delicious womanly wine he’d ever had in his lifetime, sucking her intimate lips until he imagined he tasted Kim—not Kimberly’s—blood. Oh, God, he thought, he could become dangerously addicted to them.
Backing away from her, he was somewhat surprised when a palm landed flat against his head only to guide him between Kimberly’s legs once more. But the shock wasn’t in how Kim directed him, but rather in what he insinuated he planned on doing from behind.
* * * *
Kim encouraged Conrad to stand and then took his own sweet time working his worn jeans over his hips and legs. He kicked his feet apart when the denim fell to his ankles, and the sound of Kim’s zipper falling filled the room like a scratching echo, alerting all participants to the obvious. Kim had every intention of fucking Conrad.
Kimberly held fast to the back of Conrad’s neck. “We’re only doing what you’ve already imagined.”
She was right. He didn’t know why he had the sudden fear washing over him, but even with his angst, he couldn’t help but recognize another fact. Being with Kim and Kimberly felt right. They filled a void in his life, and he had a feeling it went way beyond sexual.
Conrad’s bottom clenched like his body was preparing for resistance. Kimberly’s fresh scent filled his senses, and he was driven to take her, dying to dive in between her legs and plunge toward his release. Instead, he ate, licking at her pussy lips, sipping at her juices, and devouring the taste of her as she rode his tongue, clasping her hand tighter and tighter around his nape.
Conrad lost himself in her arousal. Cupping her behind, he feasted on her spicy flavor, embedding his tongue as high as he could manage, staking his claim while impaling her with more force than he realized he possessed. She cried out his name and he savored the way she called to him, became lost in her words, her sound, and her fiery touch.
When her body closed around his tongue, pulsing against the meaty flesh, he flinched. At the same time, his own body was intimately speared, and he began moaning against Kimberly’s cunt, nuzzling her bare mound as Kim filled his ass with his size.
“Conrad, please!” Kimberly whimpered, sitting in a jack-knifed position and squeezing his shoulder.
Kim smacked his ass and drove inside him, forcing his head lower. Conrad wasn’t just lost in the acts of pleasure, he became pleasure. Tongue-fucking Kimberly while Kim screwed him, Conrad became a believer.
He was a mated vampire lover. There wasn’t a thing he could do about that, except enjoy and accept his good fortune.
Chapter Seven
Conrad worked the farm most of the day and wondered
Learning to Kill: Stories