Free Blast From The Past 2 by Faith Winslow Page B

something inside me.
    “Wait,” I said, rushing toward him. “You’re right. I wasn’t with my cousin the other night. I was out with a man. But, I assure you, nothing happened—and nothing happened when I saw him again last night.”
    “God, Trish!” J.R. said, running his hands through his hair. “Why in the hell are you telling me this? I already told you I was jealous.”
    “But you don’t have to be,” I said, reaching my hand out and running it along his arm. “Like I said, nothing happened… It couldn’t—because I couldn’t get you off of my mind.”
    “Really?” J.R. asked, his tone softening a little.
    “Really,” I replied, bringing my body closer to his.
    J.R. looked at me for a long, hard moment, and then he reached his hand behind my neck and pulled my face toward his. Our lips met, and it felt like magic. I knew that there was no way I was going to call this man the wrong name.
    As if it were something that had been waiting, waiting, waiting to happen, our bodies came together, then moved back together, in concert. We were lustfully stumbling back to the couch where we’d just ben sitting, with J.R.’s swollen manhood posed like a compass-head pointing us in the right direction.
    The next thing I knew, J.R. was on the couch again, and I was on top of him, straddling him and pressing my body against his. His hands were up underneath my nighty, and his thumbs were teasingly brushing against my nipples.
    “You look damn good in this thing,” he said, eyeing my bargain outlet nightgown. “Now take it off.”
    Without hesitation, I did as instructed and slid my nightie off over my head. Before I even had it off completely, I felt J.R.’s soft, warm mouth sucking on one of my nipples. It made my body throb and caused me to press even harder up against him, rubbing my mound against his.
    Still working my nipple in his mouth, J.R. wrapped his hands around my back and let them find their way to my ass. He held onto it tightly and squeezed me closer to him, groaning as he rocked my body against his.
    “I have to have you,” he said between groans. “Right now.”
    “Then take me,” I said, though it probably sounded like begging.
    A second later, J.R.’s hands were running over my body again, and they rested on the waistband of my thong panties.
    “I hope these weren’t expensive,” he said grabbing hold of my panties. Then, in one swift movement, he ripped them and tore them straight down the middle, exposing my wet, ready pussy.
    I gasped at his move and nearly exploded from it. “Doesn’t matter if they were expensive,” I said, breathing my words into his mouth. “They’re toast now… But, that’s okay, you can just buy me a new pair.”
    “And I’ll rip those off of you, too,” J.R. said, running his finger along my female folds from behind. He dipped a finger inside of me, and, again, I felt like I could have exploded.
    “Fuck, your pussy feels good,” J.R. said, still playing with me. “I’ve thought about it for six or seven years, but those memories are nothing like the real thing.”
    As J.R. continued to work his fingers in and out of me, I started writhing against him. It was clear that I was about to cum, and I was enjoying every moment of it. But, before I could reach my climax, J.R. suddenly pulled his fingers out of me and brought his hands around to his own waist. He furiously undid his belt, button, and zipper, and swiftly pulled his cock out.
    All it took was a few more movements after that. J.R. pulled his pants down, just a little, and guided me on top of him. His hands were firm and held me tightly, and he placed me in just the right position. In a blissful moment, his cock slid effortlessly inside me, and the feeling of it made us both moan in ecstasy.
    I placed my hands on J.R.’s shoulders and straightened my back as he pumped up and down beneath me. I rocked back and forth against him and did those Kegel exercises I was so fond of—and, within