The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(115)
Her eyes widened, her body melted into his, but her mouth said, “So annoying.”
“We could spend the day at the pool,” he suggested.
“Annoying.”
He grinned. “You want me to f**k you.”
She glared and snapped, “Annoying!”
His hand tightened on the back of her neck and he dipped his face close to hers. “You want it.”
“Benny, you’re making it impossible to eat my donut,” she shared.
He put his mouth to hers and whispered, “Finish it quick, baby. I want you to drop right here and take my c**k in your mouth.”
Again, her eyes got wide right before her lids went hooded.
Since he talked her through it, there was nothing in bed that fazed his Frankie. She was up for anything with no hang-ups.
Now, all attitude gone, sweet wonder was in its place when she asked, “Are you hard?”
“Oh yeah.”
She slid a hand over his hip and he touched his tongue to her lower lip when she felt for herself.
“I can eat my donut later,” she stated and proved this true, putting it on the counter.
Ben could eat his later too and knew he’d be doing that when Frankie dropped right down to her knees in front of him, opened his fly, pulled him free, didn’t hesitate a second, and took him deep.
Ben’s head fell back at the brilliant feel of the sweet pull when she slid him out and the sweeter glide when she took him back in.
He looked down and watched her work and that didn’t last very long before he slid his fingers into either side of her hair, pulling it back, and then taking over.
She held on to his h*ps as he watched and f**ked her face. He did it slow at first, but after he got her first moan vibrating against his cock, he went faster. Finally, he watched her body start moving with his rhythm, coming up and down on her knees like she was riding him with her pu**y with each stroke, and he knew she was liking this near as much as he was when he saw her hand move toward her panties.
That was when he pulled out, reached down, yanked her up, and pushed her against the kitchen counter, facing it.
“Baby,” she breathed.
He yanked up the skirt of her dress and tore her panties down to her thighs. She spread her legs and tipped her ass.
Fuck, Frankie. Ready. Wanting it. Probably so wet she was drenched.
He drove in.
Totally soaked.
Fuck.
Frankie.
He kept thrusting into her wet, tight pu**y, bending over her to put a hand on the counter and press his chest into her back, face in her neck, smelling and feeling her hair, f**king her cunt, hearing her gasp and whimper, everything that was his world centered on his woman.
She tipped high and pressed up into his chest, her h*ps into his, moaning, “Benny.”
He slid a hand over her belly, down, and found her clit.
“Benny,” she gasped, her body jerking, one hand moving to cover his on the counter and curl over the top of it.
He bent his knees and powered deep.
Her neck twisted and her back arched as her cunt tightened around his c**k and she cried out when she came.
He took his finger from her clit, wrapped his arm around her belly, held her steady, and drove in deeper.
She whimpered through it, clutching him tight with her pu**y until she took him there. He shoved his face deeper into her neck and exploded on a grunt against her skin.
He kept taking her, gliding his hand back down her belly and in, cupping her, feeling his c**k slide in and out slowly, how wet she was, how deep she was breathing. Fuck, he couldn’t even see her face and everything he had from her was crazy-beautiful.
She slid a hand down his forearm, his wrist, then covered his hand between her legs, holding there lightly but shifting her index finger so she could run it along his c**k as he pulled it out and glided it back in.
He buried his face deeper into her neck.
Finally, he twisted his hand, taking hers from between her legs, and slid out. He straightened, put his hands to her hips, and turned her to face him. He pulled up her panties and pulled down the stretchy skirt to her sexy-as-f*ck, threw-it-on-like-it-was-nothing, straight-from-the-pages-of-a-magazine tight black dress.
He righted himself while brushing his lips against hers, her hands curling into the waistband of his jeans as he did.
Finally, he lifted his head and said, “You can finish your donut now.”
Her eyes were still hooded and sated from her cl**ax.
But still, pure Frankie, she whispered, “Annoying.”
* * * * *
“Don’t court that either, Frankie.”
Lying on top of him on her couch, she lifted her head from his chest and looked down at him.
They had been winding down after dinner, about to watch a movie, discussing which one to watch as Benny shuffled through Netflix, and somehow they got to the fact that Frankie had not heard from Cat since before the shooting.
“Ben, she can disappear, but she’s never disappeared. I’m worried.”
“Francesca, the last time I saw Cat and Art was at Vinnie’s wake. Before that, every time I saw them, they were half a step away from bein’ functional alcoholics. They were hammered at Vinnie’s wake, and watchin’ them, I figured they took that half a step but took out the functional part. They tried to leave with Art havin’ the keys to the car. Pop intervened. Art lost his mind and Manny and I had to step in, get ’em into a taxi.”