Dreams of 18(82)

This one’s short though.

He ends it quickly, like he’s got other plans for me, and moves away.

I sit there, half-slumped and completely aroused and panting. Like last night, he goes for his shirt in an impatient way. He undoes a few buttons and reaches back to snag it off his body in one go, baring his brawny chest and rumpling up his gorgeous hair.

Gosh, he needs a haircut, my Strawberry Man. But I’m not going to tell him that. Because he looks sexy as fuck.

He leaves his jeans on when he gets on the bed and I have to say I’m a little disappointed. But he makes up for it by showing off his huge hard-on inside his pants.

It’s tenting his jeans, actually, pressing against the zipper. I can even imagine it – the angry, glorious crown of it, pushing against the confines of his pants, maybe leaking pre-cum. Leaking it so much that he’ll get a wet, dark spot there.

Oh God, I so want that.

I want that wet spot on his jeans. I want that as much as I want him to take it out, his big, bad cock, and fuck me with it.

My man has the same thought, I think. Because all the while I was staring at his cock, he’s been staring at my panty-covered pussy, his face all tight and clenched up. Even though I’m covered like him, I bet he can see the same thing as me.

He can see how swollen my pussy is and how my lips press against the fabric. How he can make out my seam and how there’s a giant wet spot there.

With his chin still dipped, he lifts his eyes up to me. He puts a finger on my right knee, moving it in circles, making my skin break out in goosebumps.

“Does it hurt?” he rasps, and I know he’s asking about my pussy.

I flex my inner muscles and shake my head. “No.”

“No?”

He goes on and on with his light circles and I wiggle my hips. “No. You took care of it last night, anyway.”

He hums, like he’s thinking about it right now, picturing caring for her, my pussy.

Before going to sleep last night and before he got up to work on the roses, he cared for me. He brought in a hot, wet towel and pressed it against my core, taking away all the soreness. Turns out I did bleed, but only a little. There was a smudge of it on my thighs and at the base of his cock and he cleaned that spot up too.

He looked a little horrified at that but I distracted him by kissing all over his beard and his chest.

I notice the moment he gets back to the present and out of last night’s memory. His finger stops making circles and instead moves up my thigh. It moves and slides up and up until his hand is a band around my upper thigh.

His thumb is so long and big that it grazes the edge of my panties, the curved edge of my pussy, making me jerk.

“Is she hungry?” he asks, making circles with his thumb there now, touching me over the sticky fabric.

“Uh-huh.”

“She wants something?”

I nod enthusiastically, spreading my legs like a whore and inching close to him. Inching toward his cock.

A slow lopsided smile spreads through his lips and he comes down to kiss me. A soft, soft, feathery kiss made a little sting-y when he rubs his beard on my cheek.

It makes me moan, his affectionate, erotic gesture, and I reach up to play with his beard, my favorite thing in the whole world.

“I’ll feed her, then. I’ll take care of her like I did last night.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

Moving away, he takes my panties off. They get stuck in my sneakers that I’m still wearing but he maneuvers them and takes them off easily. He doesn’t let me take off my sneakers though.

He tells me to keep them on with a shake of his head and this shiny glint in his eyes that pulses through my bared core.

Now, he can see it all.

His eyes drop to my core and he takes me in. He takes in my puffy pussy. I take her in too. She’s all colored with arousal, deep pink, almost red, and I get so horny from that, so fucking horny and slutty that I reach down and rub my folds.

I’m sprawled on the bed, still wearing his shirt and sneakers, my knees folded up now, and I’m rubbing my sloppy cunt in front of him, waiting and dying and writhing in lust.

“Feed her, Mr. Edwards,” I whisper, peeking at him through my eyelashes.

His features are dark and harsh with arousal but even so, he shakes his head at me. He chuckles out a rusty bark of a laugh before knocking the breath out of me by his next words.

“So you like lollipops, huh,” he rumbles, producing the one I was sucking on.

I don’t even know when he got it and where he even had it up until now, but I really don’t care.

I can’t care.

Because as soon as he said it and made me almost mindless, he popped it in his mouth.

Oh God, he has my lollipop in his mouth, that magenta-colored candy that he closes his lips around and takes a long, slow suck of, his cheeks hollowing out.

I have to open my mouth to drag in a breath because holy shit, he looks so sexy doing that. He looks so sexy and masculine while sucking on my candy and I can’t even think coherently.

Then he pops it out, his eyes dark with desire and something else, something delicious and dangerous and I have to ask, “W-what are you going to do?”

“Give her a treat,” he says in a low-pitched voice.

So low-pitched that I go boneless. More boneless and crazy than before.

“Treat?”