The Black Room: Door Two by Jasinda Wilder & Jade London

Author:Jasinda Wilder & Jade London [Wilder, Jasinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-11-15T23:00:00+00:00

*

I feel him somewhere behind us, near the foot of the bed, and I’m vaguely aware of a rustling of clothes. I can hear him breathing. But, for now, he is a silent presence.

She’s on her back, heels digging into her ass cheeks, head on the pillow, hair a scarlet halo on the white fabric. She has big breasts, not as big as mine, but large all the same. Firm. Real. High and tight. Her taut pink nipples are centered on small, dark areolae. Gravity has allowed each breast to fall to the side ever so slightly. Pale, pale skin, milk white and flawless, long limbs. Those fingers, delicate, small, are roaming her body, skating up her thighs, palms lifting and releasing her tits. Spine arching. Eyes wide, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted, tongue running over her upper lip, then her lower lip, tasting the corner of her mouth

She’s staring at me and then glancing behind me, over in his direction.

I crawl on my hands and knees toward her, a little more nervous now that we’re in the bedroom. I was lost to the heat of the moment, there in the foyer. But now I’m a little less sure of myself.

She lifts her hips, and my eyes are drawn to her slit.

Plump, pink labia, the tip of a prominent clit peeking out. Tight. Wet. God, so wet.

Something inside me shifts. Deepens. Sharpens.

My nerves fade away.

I crawl across the mattress toward her, and she reaches for me. She slips all of her fingers into my hair, tenderly, gently, affectionately, as if she knows me, likes me, as if we’ve done this before a thousand times, as if this isn’t new and alien. She’s slow and careful and insistent as she guides me between her thighs, guides my face to her core. She pushes my damp hair away from my face and smooths it over my shoulders and down my back, and then she cups the back of my head with both hands and brings me to her.

I begin slowly, tentatively with a questing lick with my tongue, up the outside of her pussy and along the seam of her tight lips. She gasps, a soft sound. And then I lick again, and again, still tasting the outside, exploring the length of her slit with the flat of my tongue, and now, licking from bottom to top, I stiffen my tongue and slide it against her clit, which is hard and begging for me. As I circle my tongue around it, she moans, grinds her hips against my face, and I hear a male grunt behind me. I feel the bed dip.

He’s directly behind me—I feel his heat, his hard body.

I’m on my knees, my chest against the mattress, and my ass in the air. He takes full advantage of my position, smoothing big rough hands over my buttocks, caressing the globes softly, reverently, then strokes down my thighs and back up, cupping my hips. Down again, and now his hand slips between my thighs and nudges them apart.

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