Tall, Tatted and Tempting 10 страница

The line goes dead for a moment, and then my dad picks up. “Emily?” he asks. I can almost hear the beat of his heart through the phone in the stillness.

“Dad,” I say.

“Em,” he says on a long sigh, like he’s deflating. There’s a clank and I imagine him taking his glasses off his nose and laying them on the table. “Where are you?”

“I need some help, Dad,” I say. I lay my forehead against the cool tiles on the wall and try not to cry. I want to cry for all that I’m giving up. I want to cry for all that I’m giving them. But mostly, I want to cry for me.

“Anything, Emily,” he says. His breath catches. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m fine. But I’m coming home.”

“Tell me where you are. I’ll send the jet.” His voice is urgent.

“Dad, first, I need for you to do something for me.” Please, please, please do this for me.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “What do you need, Emily?”

“I need for you to take care of something for me, Dad.” I tell him some of the story. “I need for you to get him in the trial. And I want to take care of his treatment. We’ll use my money, Dad.” I have enough to spare. And then some. A lot more than I need.

He chuckles. “We don’t need to touch your trust fund, Em,” he says. “Why does this young man matter to you?” he asks.

“He just does, Dad.”

I hear his pen click. “What’s his name?”

“Matthew Reed.” My voice clogs in my throat. He’s going to do it. He’s going to do it. I tell him the name of the hospital. “I don’t know more information than that. I don’t even know who his doctor is.”

He chuckles. “I can get the information I need.”

“You’re going to do it, right, Dad?” I ask.

“Emily,” he sighs. “If I do this, you’re coming home.”

My voice is a whisper. “Yes, Dad. I understand.”

“I’m sending the jet for you now.”

“I need a day, Dad. I need for you to handle this now. And I need another day. If you’ll give me that much time, I’ll come home and I’ll do whatever you want.” I’m pleading with him now.

He waits. And I hear his pen click over and over. “Ok,” he breathes. “I’m sending the jet now. It’ll be waiting when you’re ready at the airport.”

“Take care of this for me, Dad.” I roll my forehead back and forth across the tiles. “Please. Promise me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Em,” he reminds me.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” I whisper.

“Two days, Em,” he says. “No longer.” And before the line goes dead, I hear him yelling details to his secretary. I hear Matt’s name. And I hear him tell her to handle it. It’ll get done. I’m sure of it.

I walk back to the waiting room. The doctor is gone and all the boys are standing there with their arms around one another. “What happened?” I ask.

They move away from one another. “They’re moving him to a room. He’s awake. We can go see him in just a minute,” Paul explains.

I drop into a chair. My legs will no longer support me.

A few minutes later, a nurse summons the boys to follow her. Logan takes my hand and tugs me along with them. “I’m not family,” I say.

“Shut up,” he murmurs. He brushes a strand of hair back that’s stuck to my lip.

I let him tow me along.

“You can only stay for a few minutes,” the nurse warns.

The boys are giddy with excitement. She pushes back a curtain and Matt’s there in the bed. There are tubes and wires and he’s hooked up to monitors. “What’s up, guys?” he asks. He winces and adjusts himself in the bed.

“The next time you want to die, don’t do it on Kit’s watch, you sorry fucker,” Logan says out loud. The room goes quiet. A tear rolls down Logan’s cheek and Matt reaches out a hand for him. Logan grabs it, palm to palm, their thumbs wrapped together like men do, and falls into his chest. Sam and Pete put their arms around one another and Paul is just standing there, so I lean into his side. He throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him.

Matt finally lets Logan go and says, “Shit, when did you learn to talk?”

Logan shrugs.

“This girl is teaching him all sorts of new shit,” Paul says, squeezing me tightly.

“What happened?” Logan asks. He’s signing while he talks out loud.

“I had a date to snuggle with your girl on the couch and we were going to watch a movie,” Matt says. “Next thing I know, she has my head in her lap, instead.” He looks over at me, an impish twinkle in his eye. “If you wanted to hold me, Kit, you could have just asked.” He chuckles.

“You remember?” I ask.

He grins this unrepentant grin. “I’ll never, ever forget the day you threw Logan over to hold me in your arms.”

Logan chuckles. Out loud. Everyone looks at him and he shrugs.

“You going to keep talking, bro?” Paul asks cautiously.

Logan shrugs again.

Paul squeezes me.

Suddenly, a team of doctors rushes into the room. “What’s wrong?” Paul barks.

The doctor comes in a moment later. “We’re going to be moving Matt to a different facility,” he explains. “So he can begin that treatment we discussed.”

“What?” Matt’s dumbfounded. As are the rest of them.

The doctor holds up his hands to silence them. “Don’t get too hopeful,” he says. “But now there’s a chance where there wasn’t one before.”

“There’s a chance he might live?” Paul asks.

The doctor smiles and claps Paul on the shoulder. “A small one, yes.”

“How?”

“I’m still working all that out.” The doctor looks at me, but I break eye contact.

The room is barraged with activity, and the nurses get ready to move Matt. “There’s a helicopter waiting,” the nurse explains.

“How?” Paul asks again.

Matt reaches for each of them in turn. He hugs his brothers. Then he hugs me to him last. “Take care of them,” he says. “No matter what.”

I nod. I’m doing that the only way I know how.

My brothers are solemn on the way back home. It’s early afternoon on Saturday, and I look down at my watch. “Shit,” I say.

“What?” Paul asks.

“I have an appointment for a tat this afternoon.” Kit’s walking beside me but she has been lost in her own world since we left the hospital. “I guess I can cancel.”

“Are you too tired to do it?” Paul asks.

Honestly, I’m so full of adrenaline right now I could climb mountains. And pick them up and throw them. I shake my head.

“So, why not do it?” he asks.

“Matt,” I say. Just that one word.

Paul claps me on the shoulder. “They won’t let us see him for forty eight hours, dummy,” he reminds me.

That’s right. They are going to do a bunch of tests and scans and shit and told us that he can’t see anyone until at least Monday. Until he’s settled in. I’m hopeful. I’m so hopeful and I haven’t been hopeful for weeks. I’ve watched Matt decline more and more, and I was at the point where I was coming to terms with it. But hope has bloomed within me. It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all. What if he still doesn’t get better? I have to believe he’ll make it.

“He said he’d call when he gets settled,” Paul reminds me. “Until then, we wait.”

Kit looks up at me, her eyes focusing for the first time since we left the hospital. “I think you should open the shop. Do your tat. You’re going to need the money.” She doesn’t look me in the eye when she says the last part of it. “Can I go, too?” she asks. “I want to watch.”

I wrap my arm around her and she smiles up at me. “You ok?” I ask.

She nods and leans in. I can feel the warm wind of her inhale against my skin. “Stop sniffing me, you little pervita,” I say.

Her eyebrows lift and she repeats the word. “Pervita?” She laughs. I hug her to me, never wanting to let her go. She’s a part of us now. All of us. And she’s mine.

Sam and Pete are walking behind us with their heads pushed together, talking softly. When they do that, there’s usually trouble brewing. “What are you two up to?” Paul barks. Their heads snap apart, and they try not to look guilty. They’re terrible at it, though.

“Nothing,” they say in unison.

Paul narrows his eyes at them. “I don’t believe you.”

They look at him sheepishly.

“I don’t believe you either,” I say.

“I think I liked you better when you didn’t speak,” Pete says. Then he grins.

I flip him the bird and he flies at me, jumping on my back. He bounces up and down, and leans over my shoulder so I can see his lips. “My feet are cold,” he says, batting his golden lashes at me. “You should carry me the rest of the way.”

He’s latched onto me like a koala. And he’s fucking heavy. It’s like carrying a load of bricks. But I hitch him up higher and start walking.

Sam turns his back to Kit and bends down. “You look tired, Kit,” he says. “Want a ride?” He waggles his brows at her. She laughs, and jumps onto his back.

“I’m not sure I got the good end of this deal,” I croak, as we all walk along together.

I can’t help but wish Matt were here. I miss the gentle giant already.

***

I’ve been working on this tat for weeks. It’s a huge bald eagle that goes from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Not to mention that it’s on a really big guy. I drew the outline, and then I started shading it last week. I need to finish it today. It’s a five hundred dollar tat, and we could use the money. Particularly now.

I settle down to work on it, and Kit watches over my shoulder for a few minutes. But then she goes to the front of the store to sit down with Friday and Paul. Paul is updating Friday on Matt’s condition. Friday adores Matt; if there’s one of us she hangs with the most, it’s him. She wipes a tear from her eye.

I can read her lips from there. “What are the odds that he gets accepted in that trial? It’s so strange,” she says. I can’t see what Paul says in response.

Kit ambles up to the front of the store and says something to Paul. He looks shocked for a minute and then he pulls her forearm down to look at it. She’s not hurt, is she? I move to set my gun to the side, but she looks over her shoulder and smiles at me. She’s fine. Paul motions for her to follow him and he takes her behind a curtain. I see his lips when he says, “Keep him out of there,” to Friday. Keep who out of where? Then he pulls a curtain around the two of them to separate them from us and I have to put the gun down. I start in that direction. Friday gets between me and them. “She’s just getting a tat,” she says, turning me around.

“What kind of tat?”

“A tiny little butterfly or something equally as cute. Maybe a Disney princess. She hadn’t decided yet.” She rolls her eyes. Friday has skulls and crossbones, and turtles, and all sorts of weird shit all over her body.

“I want to help her pick something,” I say, trying to push past Friday.

“Stop,” she says. “She wants to surprise you.”

I run a frustrated hand through my hair.

“Tats mean different things to different people,” Friday says. “This means a lot to her and she should be the one to decide what she gets.”

I already know this, but I want to be involved. Damn it.

“You don’t trust Paul to take care of her?” Friday asks, her brows crashing together.

Of course I trust him. “But this is my girl,” I say. I know I sound like a baby. But there it is.

She pats me on the arm. “Suck it up, buttercup,” she says. Then she narrows her eyes at me. “Wait a minute! When did you start talking?”

My face flushes with heat. “Don’t get used to it,” I grumble. “I may never talk to you again.”

“I could only be so lucky,” Friday says, rolling her eyes. But she jumps up onto her tiptoes and hugs me tightly. “I’m so happy for you,” she says.

I can’t figure out what she’s talking about. Kit? Me? Our relationship? My talking? I brush her off when the guy I was working on starts waving his arms from the back of the shop. I have a lot of work to do. So, I had better get busy.

An hour later, Kit comes out from behind the curtain with Paul. She’s smiling, and her forearm is covered with a large bandage. She walks over to me. I finished my tat ten minutes ago and have just been waiting for her. “You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet,” Kit teases.

Paul walks out behind her. He’s smiling, but he won’t meet my eyes.

“What did you put on her?” I ask.

He scowls at me and says, “Shut up.” He points to a sign on the wall that says, “Tattoos are as individual as the people who get them” Then he points to another that says, “One man’s ink is another man’s purpose in life.” Then he points to a third. “We do not tattoo drunk clients.” Then he points to a roll of duct tape below a sign that says, “Keep whining and I’ll use it.”

“You are not amusing,” I say.

Kit falls into my side and wraps her arms around me.

“What did you get?” I ask.

She looks into my eyes. “Something that will keep me from ever forgetting you and what you mean to me.”

“It’s about me?” My heart lurches and my breath catches and I suddenly can’t think.

She smiles and she nods. “It’s about you.”

“Can I see it?” I’m dying here.

She shakes her head. “Not today.”

“When?” Still fucking dying here.

She shrugs and she suddenly looks sad.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, tipping her face up to mine.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She hands it to me. Her face flushes with heat.

“Is this the tattoo?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No.”

I open it slowly.

MY NAME IS EMILY.

My heart is pounding so loudly that I can hear it. Logan opens the piece of paper and he freezes. He looks down at it for a long time, longer than I expected. I try to take it back from him. He jerks it away. Then he takes my hand and pulls me from the shop. I don’t get a chance to say goodbye to Paul or Friday. I don’t even get my feet under me before he’s tugging me down the street.

“Wait,” I call. But he can’t hear me. His gaze is fixed on his route to wherever he’s taking me. I tap his shoulder. He doesn’t stop. He just pulls me through the crowd. I dig my heels in and stop. He turns to me and reaches for my hand again. I’m afraid he’s going to toss me over his shoulder one last time. But I want this to be my choice. I want this to be our choice, together. “Wait,” I say, framing his face with my hands. He looks down at me. “Why the rush?”

“Because I want you so fucking bad that I hurt, you silly woman.” He makes me smile. He’ll probably never call me a dummy again, but I do realize that it’s a term of endearment with him, and not a set-down.

“I want you too,” I admit.

He looks down at the piece of paper that’s in his hand. “You trust me,” he says.

I nod.

“Can we go to the apartment and talk?” he asks. “I promise not to molest you the minute we walk in the door. We have some things that need to be said.”

Yes, we do. I nod.

He takes my hand in his and raises it to his lips to kiss my knuckles. He walks a little slower this time. He points to my arm. “What did you get?”

I smile. I’m not telling him. It’s for me. It’s for me to take with me when I go. It’s a piece of him. Of all of them really. It’s mine. And I’m not sharing it. Not right now.

“Come on,” he cajoles.

I shake my head. “Not happening.”

He looks crestfallen for a moment. But then we reach his apartment complex and we run up the stairs side by side. He’s barely winded.

We step into the empty apartment. No one is there.

“Can you believe that they admitted Matt into the trial program?” he asks as he walks toward the bedroom.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“So fucking amazing,” he says. He’s giddy about it and I love the way he wears his heart on his sleeve.

I don’t want to talk about Matt because I’m afraid I’ll break down crying and tell him what I did. Tell him what I committed to in order to give Matt a chance, in order to be sure Logan’s world stays complete and full with all his brothers. “I’m so glad he’s going to get a chance,” I say. My voice clogs in my throat and I’m glad Logan can’t hear it.

He picks up on my feelings, though, because he walks across the room and brackets my face with his fingers. “I’m sorry you were the one here when he got sick.”

I’m not. Not at all. I’m so glad I was here. I’m glad I could help. In more ways than one. “I am glad I was here. Wouldn’t trade the time I spent with his head on my lap for anything.” I can’t bite back my grin.

“I love you so fucking much,” he says. Then he bends his head and kisses me. His lips are soft, but urgent.

Tears well in my eyes, because I know this is our last day together. “I need to take a shower,” I say, stalling. I need a moment to compose myself. Not to mention that we spent the night at the hospital. I need to get cleaned up.

He nods and points at my arm. Shoot. I have a new tattoo and a bandage. “You can get it wet if you take the bandage off,” he says.

I don’t want to take the bandage off. “Can we just wrap it up?”

“Why don’t you want me to see it?” He’s looking deep into my eyes. I can’t explain it to him.

He heaves a sigh and comes back with some plastic wrap and some waterproof tape. He wraps my arm and says, “There. That’ll keep it completely dry.”

I’m not worried about getting it wet. I’m worried about the bandage falling off. “Thank you,” I say. I kiss him quickly. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

I take off my clothes and step into the shower. Warm water sluices over me and I realize that the fear in my heart has been replaced by longing. I was afraid to love Logan. Now I long to love Logan. And I do. And always will. But I have to give him up to protect something precious to him. I know that. I don’t have a choice. The warm water steams over my back, and I lean both forearms against the wall, trying to compose myself. Tears track down my face, melding with the water. There’s a draft and I feel the curtain move behind me.

I jump when Logan steps into the bath with me. His body envelopes mine, completely naked. “Logan!” I screech.

A warm chuckle makes his chest move against my back. “I don’t want to be away from you,” he says, pushing my wet hair to the side so he can press his lips to my naked shoulder.

He’s hard against my bottom, the rigid length of him teasing me. He takes my washcloth from my hands and gets it soapy. Then he drags it down my spine, slowly, ever so slowly. My breath catches in my throat when he abandons the washcloth and runs his soapy hands over my bottom, squeezing my butt cheeks in his gentle grip. He doesn’t leave a spot unwashed, his hands finding every crevice and dip, all the way down the backs of my legs, across the backs of my knees, which I had no idea were so ticklish, and over the heels of my feet. I stand there with my eyes closed, unable to look at him. He stands back up and lathers the soap in his palms again. This time, he doesn’t take the washcloth at all. He uses his fingers to skim my body. His fingers tickle all the way down my left arm, all the way to my fingertips. Strong fingers lace with mine and he gives me a squeeze before he turns me to face him.

I keep my eyes closed. I am overwhelmed by what he’s doing to me. If I look into his eyes, I don’t know what will happen right now. I might combust. I might shatter. I might break. I might just come from the sheer pleasure of his touch. I can feel his smile against my shoulder as he presses his lips there. His hands circle my breasts, and gentle thumbs stroke across my nipples, which are straining for his touch. I arch my back, pressing my breasts into his hands and I hear him chuckle. My eyes fly open.

His hair is wet and he’s dripping with water. I lean forward and lick his chest. He groans, freezing. His fingers pluck at my nipples, elongating them with his gentle tugs. “Logan,” I cry. He looks up at me and stills.

“Did you say something?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. Laughter breaks from my throat. “I can’t even think. You want me to repeat myself?”

“I felt you say something,” he says. He grins. “I just wanted to be sure you’re all right.”

I lay my head back against the wall. I’ll never be all right again. He rubs his soapy hands over my belly, and then his fingers dip into the cleft between my legs. I reach for his shoulders.

He picks up the wash cloth again, and gets it sudsy. “Open your legs for me,” he orders, tapping my inner thigh.

This is more intimate than anything I ever dared dream of. He uses the wash cloth to gently clean between my legs. He spreads me open with his fingertips, growls low in his throat, and washes me clean. The cloth drags across my clit, and my knees almost buckle. He throws the cloth to the side and uses his soapy hands to slide across my folds, front and back, front and back, front and back. “Logan!” I cry. This time, I tap on his shoulder. He looks up and grins. “Something wrong?” he asks. He strokes across my clit again, and then opens me to the spray of the shower. His fingers rub back and forth until I’m no longer slippery. Or at least not slippery from the soap.

“I think I’m clean,” I say. I can’t take much more.

Logan stands up and kisses me. “I want to be inside you so bad,” he says. He pushes me under the spray to get my hair wet, and then washes my hair, rinsing it gently. “Your hair is growing out,” he says. “Is it blond?”

I nod. “Not platinum. But a dark blond color.”

“I’d like to see you like that,” he says. “Maybe someday.” He smiles and kisses me. He moves me to the side and starts to wash his own body, his movements quick and efficient.

“Let me help you,” I say, reaching to take the soap from him.

“If you touch me right now, I’ll come,” he warns. “And I really want to do that while I’m inside you.”

My belly flips. “Oh.”

He chuckles. “Just stand there and watch,” he says.

He washes and rinses his hair, and I let my gaze drag down his body. He told me he had a piercing down there. But he didn’t tell me he had a bar through the skin at the base of his penis. “That’s the piercing you were telling me about?” I ask.

He nods, blowing water from his lips. He’s hard. So hard. And long. And thick. And I have no idea how he’s going to get that inside me. But one thing is certain. He’s going to be inside me tonight. I opened that door when I told him my name.

“Emily Madison,” I say. “My name. It’s Emily Madison.”

He stills. “Where are you from?” he asks. He turns the water off, but never looks away from me.

“California.”

“The opposite coast,” he breathes. He takes my face in his hands. “Emily,” he says again. “It suits you.”

I grin. “I’m glad.”

Logan steps out of the tub, and comes back with two towels. He dries me off and wraps me in one towel. The other he uses on himself, and then wraps it around his hips.

“Do you want to go to bed?” he asks. He fakes a yawn. “I’m really tired.”

I laugh. God, this man makes me laugh. “If you think you’re getting any sleep tonight, you are sadly mistaken.” I shake my finger at him.

“Promises, promises,” he growls as he lifts me from the tub with strong hands around my waist.

She’s so fucking beautiful that I can barely breathe. “Emily,” I say. I want to say it over and over and over. She told me her last name, too, but for the life of me all I can remember is what was written on the piece of paper.

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” she teases.

I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. My dick reaches for her, and I slide against her heat. But I’m not ready yet. I want to savor every second. I carry her into the bedroom. She kisses me as I walk, and I can barely take a step, I’m so wrapped up in her.

“Is anyone here?” She sits back from me long enough to ask.

God, I hope not. “Don’t think so,” I say.

“What if they are?” she asks.

“Then you’re going to have to be quiet.” I laugh. Because the odds of her being quiet during all the things I plan to do to her is ludicrous.

She buries her head into my shoulder and I can feel her breath against my neck. She kisses me softly, suckling my skin. “Give me a hicky,” I urge. I’m kidding, but then I feel the scrape of her teeth against the tender skin and I really, really want her to keep doing what she’s doing. She bites down gently, and then sucks the pain away. “Jesus,” I moan. My dick pulses and I bite back a groan. I slam the bedroom door behind us and fall onto the bed with her, holding myself above her. My fucking arms are shaking and for the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do next.

So I can collect myself, I take a moment to stop and I unwrap the plastic and tape from her arm. I start to peel the bandage back, but she catches me and slaps my hands away. I freeze, burying my face in her neck. I can barely breathe.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, taking my face in her hands.

“I feel like a fourteen year old fumbling with his first girl,” I admit. “I don’t know what to do next.”

I lift up and open her towel, and unhook mine, shoving it from between us. “You’ve done this so many times,” she reminds me, rolling her eyes.

I still. “I have never done this before.”

Her eyes narrow.

“I’ve never done this with someone who matters. With someone I’m in love with. Jesus, girl, you make me crazy.”

“Can we turn the light off?” she asks. Then it dawns on her that I can’t see her lips if we don’t keep the light on. “Never mind,” she says.

“Will the light bother you?” I ask. I kiss her, cupping her breast in my palm. I gently heft the weight of it, and watch her face as I plump it and bring her nipple to my lips. I tongue it quickly, rasping her tender flesh with care, but force. She arches her back, her eyes closing as she moves to get closer to me.

Her naked thighs wrap around my hips, and I feel the slickness of her against my dick. “Shit,” I say.

“What?” She freezes.

“I forgot to get a condom.”

She counts on her fingers and shakes her head. “It’s all right. We don’t need one.” She stops and bites her lip. “Unless, um, you need one.”

I got tested just a few weeks ago when we all had bone marrow testing for Matt. I’m clean. “I’ve never done this without one.” I’m afraid. More afraid than I’ve ever been.

I press into her cleft, sliding back and forth through her wetness, but not slipping inside. I notch my dick against the top of her cleft, and press gently, rocking against her clit. She’s so wet she’s slippery and so, so sweet.

I don’t know what to do next, I want her so bad. My breath falters, and my arms quiver under my weight.

“Emily, can you take me inside?” I ask. I can do this with finesse later. We have a lifetime to perfect this.

She reaches between us and takes my dick in her hand. She shuttles her hand up and down the slippery length of me, and then points me toward her heat. She raises her hips so I slip inside.

I take it slow. I want to remember this moment forever and ever. I can’t hold in a groan as I bury my face in her neck. “Fuck, Emily. You’re so fucking tight. I don’t think I can stand it.”

She rocks her hips, and takes more of me. I’m buried to the hilt inside the woman I love. I look up at her face and there are tears in her eyes. “Have I hurt you?” I ask. I bracket her face with my hands and swipe her tears away with the pads of my thumbs.

She shakes her head and pulls me into her with her feet on my ass. I start to move.

Emily kisses me, her tongue sliding into my mouth as I slip in and out of her heat. I can feel the little stutters of her breath as I push forward and retreat. She rocks to meet my movements. “Emily, Emily, Emily,” I chant.

I’m closer to coming than she is, but not by much. I reach between our bodies and stroke across her clit. She lifts for me, her hips pushing her harder against me. She cries out. I can feel the vibration in her chest. I look into her face. She’s saying my name over and over and over.

Her feet lock around me as she tightens on my dick. “Em,” I rasp. My voice hurts from overuse. “I need you to come, Emily,” I say quietly. “Come on my dick. Please, Em.” I’m not above pleading with her. I’m finally inside the woman I love, but I can’t hold out forever. She feels too fucking good.

She throws her head back when she comes, and her pussy pulls at my dick. I shove myself inside her pushing in as far as I can go. She sucks at me from the inside, pulling me into her with the quivers of her channel as it closes tightly, so tightly, around me. She falls apart in my arms and I covet every clench. I look into her face, because I can’t hear her cries. I can feel her, though, as she milks me, coming harder than I ever imagined. But then again, so do I. I feel like my balls are being pulled out through my throat. It’s almost painful how she takes all of me. I pump slowly in and out of her, not wanting to stop, but my dick is so sensitive that I have to stop moving.

Дата добавления: 2014-12-24