KENNEDY

 

 

Thayer’s fingertips brushed the outer layer of my breasts. He cupped them, squeezed a little before he flicked his tongue one each at a time. 

 

I watched him as he enjoyed and captured the other into his hot mouth, sucking it. 

All I could think about was reminding him that I would come to him that I wouldn’t ever feel complete without him in my life.

 

His thumb flicked my free nipple, pinched it with his fingers. The pain sent right through my pulsing clit. I could feel my folds slick with my wetness—I was ready and needy—like always for him.

 

“Babe?” I called out when he was seemingly...