Darrell
The second her warm breath ghosted over the head of my c**k, I knew I was f****d in every sense that mattered. I carried her to the sofa where her knees still remained knelt.
She didn’t tease. Didn’t play coy or flutter her lashes like some porn-star fantasy. She just… opened wider and took me in. Slow at first, lips stretching around the thick ridge, tongue flattening instinctively against the underside like she’d rehearsed this in her head a hundred times. Maybe she had.
A low groan ripped out of me before I could lock it down. f**k. Her mouth was hot, slick, perfect—better than I’d let myself imagine during those long lectures when she’d sit in the front row, pen between her teeth, legs crossed so the hem of her skirt rode up just enough to make me shift in my chair.
I threa
