Page 24 of Tap Left
Fuck. Yes.
There is no recovery time for her to come down from her high. I need to bury my cock so deep inside of her she won’t be able to walk for a week.
"Take off your bra," I order.
She does, but then she covers her tits with her hands until I remove them. I always wondered what they would look like. They are full but pert. They are a work of art, just like Ryan said.
"Fuck." I scrape a hand through my hair and try to grasp at any logic I can.
Lola blinks at me, confused. “Everything okay?”
Naturally, her first thought is that there’s something wrong with her. I don’t correct her. There’s no point. I want her tits, and I'm going to have them. I cup them in my palms and rub my face all over them. Lola whimpers. They are so fucking soft, and when I taste them, she tastes of vanilla. She's alive for me now. More alive than I’ve ever seen her. Moaning. Chanting my name. Dragging her fingers through my hair and begging me for more. I'm so hard I could drill a hole through the cement. I yank her back down into the water and hold her in my arms, rubbing my cock against her slick pussy.
"I'm going to fuck you." A part of me wants her to say no. To stop this madness before it consumes me. One of us needs to be logical. But it doesn't happen.
She says yes. Emphatically.
I knead the apples of her ass cheeks in my hands. She wraps her ankles around my back, and I squeeze my dick inside. Raw.
Neither one of us says it, but we're both thinking it. Lola is too sensible to do anything like this, and I've never fucked a woman this way before. But those women weren't Lola. And I don't think I could stand to have anything between us right now if I tried. Her pussy is so fucking hot. And tight like a glove. I want to bust my nut the minute I'm inside of her. But I also want her to pay for her sins.
It’s heaven, and it’s hell. This is so dirty and so fucked up, and I can’t stop wondering if she’s lying to me. I can’t stop wondering if Ryan took her this way. It makes me stop and start frantically. Lola doesn’t know what’s happening.
But is she thinking of him?
Christ.
I close my eyes and blow out a breath. And I imagine the girl from the focus group. The one that I said I’d fuck if she weren't a brunette. In this case, she’s perfect. I picture her face. It eases some of my pain as I slide in and out of Lola’s wet pussy.
It works until it doesn’t. Because it isn’t the brunette calling out my name. It isn’t the brunette digging her fingers into my back and breathing against my chest. It definitely isn’t her coming on my cock.
Fuck.
“Goddamn you, Lola,” I groan.
She murmurs that it’s okay, but it’s not okay. I’m the worst kind of man right now. The one I always accused Ryan of being. I thought he had no morals, but I was wrong. It’s me.
I’m fucking my brother’s girlfriend, and I can’t get enough of it. Her mouth. Her tits. Her pussy. I want them all, in no particular order. When I open my eyes, and look at her impaled on my cock, it’s all over. I fuck her up against the wall of the pool, kissing her throat and her jaw and her ear. Lola makes the softest sounds of pleasure I've ever heard. She isn't like the other girls. She doesn't go over the top. She doesn't try to fake anything or exaggerate. She is honest and raw when she repeats the same thing over and over again.
She can't believe this is really happening.
I can't either. I can’t believe the boundary I just crossed. The one I swore I never would. But it’s too late to find my morals now. They aren’t present when I keep pumping until I come inside of her. I don't pull out. I don't even ask if she wants me to.
It’s a sickening realization, but I want to own Lola. I want every part of her marked by me. And if that means I get her pregnant, then so be it.
I’m going to hell anyway.
8
Lola
My phone pings, startling me from a groggy sleep. I groan and shove my head under the pillow, but it pings again. And again. And then three more times. And I’m not getting any more sleep. I yank it from the charger and glare at the screen.
There’s a text from Daire. But that isn’t all. There’s a whole boatload of notifications from Tap Left. Which is weird, considering I’ve only been getting them sporadically up until now.
I open the first, and even in the best of circumstances, this is not what I want to see at seven am.
A dick pic. A real-life dick pic. There isn’t even a caption or anything remotely clever to go along with it, and I wonder how many other poor girls have received this same greeting today. I block that guy quick smart and then move onto the next.
