Free Pearl on Cherry by Chanse Lowell Page B

beneath her.
    “Cherry girl, you wreck me with such words. They speak to me in a way that softens my very bones, melts my core. Do you have to make me want you more?” he growled, then released her hands.
    They fell like a pile of rags at her side, and then he had her hands pinned behind her as his mouth enveloped hers.
    She was backed up to the dressing room counter, and items spilled off the sides as he maneuvered her bottom up onto it.
    “Please, I won’t hurt you the way you think.” His fingers delved under her skirt, and she gasped, but did not tell him to stop. “I am mad for you. I have never been this way for any woman.”
    “I have no . . . I cannot pleeease you. I do not know how,” she said.
    “Sing again. Sing it for me. Make me believe those words are about us,” he pleaded, his voice high pitched and desperate.
    He stroked across her sopping knickers.
    “Sir, but I . . .”
    “Once more. Then I vow to release you.”
    He dropped to his knees, and he ripped at the fabric.
    She sucked in a tight gust of air, screwed her eyes closed and she sang with warbling breaths.
    Fabric tore, and something wet and hot was on her most private folds.
    She gripped his hair and cried out.
    “Sing,” he demanded, then dropped his tongue back on her.
    She tried to, but all that came out was, “Oh Lord, oh God . . . William, I . . . Oh my God, yes, I am . . . I cannot sing!”
    He pulled his mouth off with a wet, sloshing sound, his fingers stroking her puss and making her womb convulse for a second.
    “I must see you fall apart. I must have this. Just this. Give me this moment. To taste you has ruined me. You need to gush on some part of me.” He panted and licked his lips, his eyes devouring her like a thirsting, unstoppable beast.
    She nodded, and a slow whisper of a song drifted out of her.
    This was something that came to her in the moment.
    “Oh sweetheart, divine is a word like a color. It is red, it is inflamed, and all of it was mine. It is on your mouth, on your tongue and your words. You breathe and it is mine. You seek and you shall find. I give you what I am, because I can do no less. So, take my love, my release and with it my chest. For it is ripe and dripping, red and inflamed. As my flesh on your tongue this very day.”
    “Uuuuugggggaaaaaahhhhd,” he moaned and then his fingers found a way inside her tiny, secret hole that was hidden away.
    She had not even touched it before, but he found it and she was jutting her hips up, bracing herself with her hands behind her.
    “Look at me. Eyes on me—I have to see what this does to you. What I do to you with my fingers in your tight, lush cunt. Do I give it all to you now? What do you want?”
    Her eyes focused on his—a darker green in this moment. “I want to be you, Ferrismore, so I know what to do,” she whispered.
    “Then playact with me like you did when you sucked on my cock. You said after you were in the dark and unaware of what to do, but you did it, and I was so amorous for you, as soon as you left I climaxed. I have not released since, so I die for this. Play with me. Be my playmate.”
    Her breath hitched. “How? What do I do?”
    “You pretend you are wild for me, and you fall apart at my touch. Please ”—his lips twitched—“give me this.”
    She was about to say that was entirely the case—that she was indeed wild for him and playacting would not be required, but then he sucked at her clitoris, his fingers went deeper and curled up, brushing against her sensitive interior puss wall and her groin clamped down, sucking all feeling from her body and placing it all right there—at his fingertips and mouth.
    She made a shrill cry of unending pleasure as her body writhed and crumpled, her mind exploding with euphoria. This was what it meant to succumb to a lover and climax? It was more perfect than she ever could have surmised.
    There was this dark moment tears leaked out from the utter expense of all she was, but when her