I Love My Secret (Nicole's Erotic Romance) by Sabrina Lacey

to death. I look like a demon possessed me and
then took off for greener pastures.
    I shower fast, wash my hair and leave the long
curls hanging wet past my shoulders. A robe is pulled on, with nothing
underneath it. After a gallon of moisturizer gets rubbed all over, some
makeup’s applied to cover the demon’s ravaging, and I’m done swishing around
about ten gallons of Listerine, I’m good as I’m ever gonna be. I walk fast to
the kitchen, the clock ticking, and slap some peanut butter on my toast,
shoving it in my mouth and following it with about eighty-nine gallons of
water. My mouth is so dry, I have no choice. Popping some grapes in my mouth,
and a few slices of green apple (good for breath), and I’m feeling pretty good.
But just in case, I put a little lube down below. Jason isn’t small, after all,
and I’ve been dehydrated for days.
    The knock at the door tells me it’s show time.
Let’s see if he can tell if anything’s been wrong…
    “Hi,” Jason says, looking super sexy in
hip-hugging gray jeans, a white shirt, a darker gray leather jacket and a sexy
hat.
    “Hey,” I say, my voice low and sultry. I didn’t
know until I saw him how much I needed him to come over.
    “You just shower?” he asks, walking up to me and
picking up some of my hair. “Your hair is wet.”
    “It’s not the only thing on me that’s wet.”
    “Is that right?” he says, his eyelids half-fallen
as he closes in to kiss me. I smile, sliding my arms around his neck. This man
won’t turn me down. And he sure as shit isn’t married. That knowledge is
delicious.
      “Mmhmm. Apparently I’m happy to see you,”
I whisper.
    “I’m happy to see you, too. And someone else is,
too.” He pushes his hips against mine, the soft silk of my robe slides against
my freshly cleaned skin and the wisp of fabric does nothing to hide the hot
growing bulge that’s trying to open his zipper on its own.
    “He is happy, isn’t he?” I purr.
    He says in a low throaty growl, “Getting happier
by the second.”
    “Mmmmm.” I open my mouth and wait for his kiss. He
attacks me with the heat of a wild man, sliding his hands all over and kissing
me like he’s making up for lost time. I’m lifted up, robe falling off one
shoulder, and as he carries me to the kitchen, he gnaws on it like it’s dinner.
    “Bedroom is boring,” he mumbles into my neck,
setting my ass on the edge of the counter just in front of the sink and
grabbing the outside of my smooth thighs and wrapping them around his hips.
“You taste so good, woman. You’re better than oxygen.” You can’t taste oxygen,
but I get his meaning.
    I grab onto his back, pull his shirt off over his
head, look into his eyes and say simply, “Jason.”
    He gets it – my apology for calling him
another man’s name – and he hears me, really hears me. He’s on me heavier
and harder than he ever has been, taking off my robe so fast he rips it. He
yanks down his zipper and unleashes his steel-hard cock. I moan and claw down
his back as he slides it into me, my pussy so eager for him that he has little
problem coaxing me to accept all of him with a few shorts nudges. He’s slightly
curved upward, like some lucky cocks are, and he hits my elusive g-spot until I
feel like I might pee all over him, the sensation is so strong. I know from
experience this is just the way it feels – so it doesn’t freak me out,
like the first time I felt it. He grabs me by my hair and pulls on it,
thrusting into me with a smooth hard burst of strength from his chiseled hips.
He leans down and presses his teeth against my neck, massaging it with his
mouth, his lips, his teeth. The slippery hammering his cock is giving me,
combined with my ass rubbing along the counter feels so good.
    “Jason. Pull my hair harder.” He weaves his
fingers into the moisture of my curls and gets a better grip; giving it a sweet
little tug at the same time he presses his cock in. It’s not pain. More like
ownership,