Invitation to Seduction: Open Invitation, Book 1 by Jasmine Haynes, Jennifer Skully
Authors: Jasmine Haynes, Jennifer Skully
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between her thighs.
Debbie stood in the back, behind the low rail that encircled the room. It created a wide aisle for people to move about or to stand and watch, both the stage and the acts on the mattresses strewn about the floor. Full and ready, she clasped the brass rail, her grip almost painful. She struggled to catch her breath as Man Number Two put his mouth to the woman’s mound and sucked. She couldn’t see the finer movements of his tongue, but she felt them deep inside as if he were licking her clitoris.
Her previous trip, she’d come for the titillation, the kinky excitement. Tonight was altogether different. Stronger. More powerful. This time she knew she would have him.
The obsession had begun, taken hold of her like a fist tight around her innards. She didn’t care at all about the man that lay asleep and snoring at home in his bed. Her bed.
She smelled him before he touched her. A light spicy tang, barely there. His scent tantalized her, reminded her of that last time, his soft caress between her thighs. The promise. He knew she’d be back for that. She’d returned for so much more.
She concentrated on the threesome. The two males turned the woman, brought her to her hands and knees, her mouth milking one cock, her pussy sucking in the other. The man rammed home, muscles flexing with each thrust.
Her pussy contracted. She squeezed her thighs together, intensifying the pressure on her clitoris.
A hand slid beneath her skirt, his hand along her inner thigh. With a fingertip, he traced her center, barely dipping into her folds. She almost came. He cupped her, then ran his hands over her hips, her butt. He trailed two fingers up the crease between her cheeks, then down to the joining of her thighs. Lips against her hair, he whispered, “Open up.”
She did, spreading her legs for him. She thought he’d enter her with his fingers, but he gathered cream and skimmed forward to her clitoris. Circling, he caressed her. She looked down at her hands on the rail, her knuckles white, black, white, black in the throb of light. She moaned, joining the other voices. Cries of pleasure pounded against her ears, and the incessant stroke of his finger on her clit brought her to the edge of madness.
“I’m going to fuck you now. I can’t wait. Bend over.”
He pushed at the top of her spine. She shoved her ass at him, begging without words. God, she wanted this, needed it.
After a brief moment as he donned a condom, the tip of his cock breached her vagina, and she shoved back, taking him. Pain shot through her body. She was wet, but tight and unused to a man inside her. Putting a hand to her hip, he started a rhythm that eradicated the ache. And he never let up on her clit.
She fought to keep her eyes open, needing to absorb the sexual feeding frenzy on the floor, on the stage, the rawness of fucking, and the feel of his hard cock deep inside her.
Faster, his cock, his fingers, her breath, her racing heart. She climbed, lost sight of the room and all sense of time as he pounded her. Someone was screaming, and the strobe hammered against her closed eyelids. Fire swept through her, from her nipples to her clitoris to uncharted territory at the center of her womb. Then it consumed her, as if she’d shot straight into the flames of a burning sun.
He was still inside her when she came back to herself, his cock pulsing. His ragged breath sawed in her ear. He held her flush against his body, trapping her to him with an arm beneath her breasts, the other across her abdomen. Held her as if he couldn’t let her go.
Then he whispered to her, “I want to bury my face in your pussy. I want to make you come until you think you’re going to die. I want to fall asleep with my cock inside you.”
* * * * *
She felt right in his arms. His cock still throbbed deep inside her. She smelled so damn good as he buried his face in her hair. Fruity. Something citrus. He pushed aside her hair and kissed her
Debbie stood in the back, behind the low rail that encircled the room. It created a wide aisle for people to move about or to stand and watch, both the stage and the acts on the mattresses strewn about the floor. Full and ready, she clasped the brass rail, her grip almost painful. She struggled to catch her breath as Man Number Two put his mouth to the woman’s mound and sucked. She couldn’t see the finer movements of his tongue, but she felt them deep inside as if he were licking her clitoris.
Her previous trip, she’d come for the titillation, the kinky excitement. Tonight was altogether different. Stronger. More powerful. This time she knew she would have him.
The obsession had begun, taken hold of her like a fist tight around her innards. She didn’t care at all about the man that lay asleep and snoring at home in his bed. Her bed.
She smelled him before he touched her. A light spicy tang, barely there. His scent tantalized her, reminded her of that last time, his soft caress between her thighs. The promise. He knew she’d be back for that. She’d returned for so much more.
She concentrated on the threesome. The two males turned the woman, brought her to her hands and knees, her mouth milking one cock, her pussy sucking in the other. The man rammed home, muscles flexing with each thrust.
Her pussy contracted. She squeezed her thighs together, intensifying the pressure on her clitoris.
A hand slid beneath her skirt, his hand along her inner thigh. With a fingertip, he traced her center, barely dipping into her folds. She almost came. He cupped her, then ran his hands over her hips, her butt. He trailed two fingers up the crease between her cheeks, then down to the joining of her thighs. Lips against her hair, he whispered, “Open up.”
She did, spreading her legs for him. She thought he’d enter her with his fingers, but he gathered cream and skimmed forward to her clitoris. Circling, he caressed her. She looked down at her hands on the rail, her knuckles white, black, white, black in the throb of light. She moaned, joining the other voices. Cries of pleasure pounded against her ears, and the incessant stroke of his finger on her clit brought her to the edge of madness.
“I’m going to fuck you now. I can’t wait. Bend over.”
He pushed at the top of her spine. She shoved her ass at him, begging without words. God, she wanted this, needed it.
After a brief moment as he donned a condom, the tip of his cock breached her vagina, and she shoved back, taking him. Pain shot through her body. She was wet, but tight and unused to a man inside her. Putting a hand to her hip, he started a rhythm that eradicated the ache. And he never let up on her clit.
She fought to keep her eyes open, needing to absorb the sexual feeding frenzy on the floor, on the stage, the rawness of fucking, and the feel of his hard cock deep inside her.
Faster, his cock, his fingers, her breath, her racing heart. She climbed, lost sight of the room and all sense of time as he pounded her. Someone was screaming, and the strobe hammered against her closed eyelids. Fire swept through her, from her nipples to her clitoris to uncharted territory at the center of her womb. Then it consumed her, as if she’d shot straight into the flames of a burning sun.
He was still inside her when she came back to herself, his cock pulsing. His ragged breath sawed in her ear. He held her flush against his body, trapping her to him with an arm beneath her breasts, the other across her abdomen. Held her as if he couldn’t let her go.
Then he whispered to her, “I want to bury my face in your pussy. I want to make you come until you think you’re going to die. I want to fall asleep with my cock inside you.”
* * * * *
She felt right in his arms. His cock still throbbed deep inside her. She smelled so damn good as he buried his face in her hair. Fruity. Something citrus. He pushed aside her hair and kissed her
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