hips slowly. “Until we’re rocking on the front porch, talking about our wild times at Volare and Razzo when we were young and crazy.” Damien groaned as she sheathed him fully and sighed with pleasure at the tight fit. “Until we’re old and grey and beyond, Damien. I’m yours for a lifetime. I love you.”
“I’m a lucky man,” Damien said softly, easing his cock out. “I’ll try very hard to make you happy. You deserve perfect happiness, Chloe.” He bucked his hips hard and buried his stiffness inside her once more.
“And I’ll try my hardest to make your dreams,” Chloe told him, “I mean, our dreams, come true. We have a lifetime together to do what we enjoy and to love each other.” She lowered her leg from the table.
Damien lay on the red oriental rug and Chloe settled on top of him, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. She lifted her hips and slammed them back down again, pummelling his steely hardness with her own yielding softness. Her crystal-adorned tits bounced and her cool blonde hair flowed like silk over her tanned shoulders. Chloe’s brow furrowed slightly. She pursed and licked her lips as though she were tasting a decadent morsel of chocolate. Delicious , Damien thought.
She moved faster, pistoning over him wildly. “It’s happening,” she whimpered, “I’m almost there.” Chloe spread her palms over his bare chest.
“Oh, yes, I’m coming,” she gasped, slamming her cunt onto his cock with all her strength. Her spasms milked the length of him as his own orgasm hit—his cum jetted into her like a fountain. Like a flare. Like a rocket.
Chloe’s eyes remained closed as she wound down from her climax, but Damien’s stayed wide open. As her breath slowed, he spoke softly. “You’re just so beautiful, Chloe. I’ve never seen something as lovely as watching your face when you climax. I see surprise, relief and happiness there.”
“And love,” Chloe added with a smile. She opened her eyes. “You see love, Damien.”
At that moment, and for the lifetime of moments that followed, they soared.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
A Ghost on Two Wheels
Bebe Balocca
Excerpt
Chapter One
“Barney!” I lean out of the back door and holler up into the meadow. “Barney, damn it, come on in!” As I have for the past several days, I hope to see him dart out from our rickety barn, his namesake and his favourite haunt, and plummet down the gentle slope to our back door like a ginger lightning bolt. Barney enjoys nothing more than lurking in that dusty old barn, chasing field mice and sparrows and lizards, then resting after his hunts in my lap.
We inherited Barney when we bought this old farmhouse ten years ago. After we moved in, we told Mack Grayden, the owner, that we’d found a cat in the barn.
Mack had shrugged and spat on the ground. “Just an old barn cat,” the crusty old man had grunted. “And I got no use for him where I’m going. Keep him or call animal control to pick him up, don’t matter none to me. Reckon you might want a good mouser, though. Keep mice from gettin’ into the place.”
We decided to give the unnamed mouser a trial period. I set out dry cat food in a dish, and the cat acted like it was wild salmon on a bed of caviar. Apparently Mack had never fed the cat at all and had just left him to fend for himself with mice and lizards and whatever else he could catch. The poor, scrawny thing was just skin and bones. We fattened him up, got him checked out at the vet, and invited him into the house. Our hand-me-down cat proved to be a well-adjusted and contented pet, as well as a very, very good eater. He’d rolled with the punches delivered by his neglectful previous owner Mack, and was more than ready for the next phase of his life. Now Barney, as we named the orange barn cat, is part of our family, a huge, tough tomcat who sleeps at the foot of our bed and curls next to me while I write, as loyal as any
“I’m a lucky man,” Damien said softly, easing his cock out. “I’ll try very hard to make you happy. You deserve perfect happiness, Chloe.” He bucked his hips hard and buried his stiffness inside her once more.
“And I’ll try my hardest to make your dreams,” Chloe told him, “I mean, our dreams, come true. We have a lifetime together to do what we enjoy and to love each other.” She lowered her leg from the table.
Damien lay on the red oriental rug and Chloe settled on top of him, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. She lifted her hips and slammed them back down again, pummelling his steely hardness with her own yielding softness. Her crystal-adorned tits bounced and her cool blonde hair flowed like silk over her tanned shoulders. Chloe’s brow furrowed slightly. She pursed and licked her lips as though she were tasting a decadent morsel of chocolate. Delicious , Damien thought.
She moved faster, pistoning over him wildly. “It’s happening,” she whimpered, “I’m almost there.” Chloe spread her palms over his bare chest.
“Oh, yes, I’m coming,” she gasped, slamming her cunt onto his cock with all her strength. Her spasms milked the length of him as his own orgasm hit—his cum jetted into her like a fountain. Like a flare. Like a rocket.
Chloe’s eyes remained closed as she wound down from her climax, but Damien’s stayed wide open. As her breath slowed, he spoke softly. “You’re just so beautiful, Chloe. I’ve never seen something as lovely as watching your face when you climax. I see surprise, relief and happiness there.”
“And love,” Chloe added with a smile. She opened her eyes. “You see love, Damien.”
At that moment, and for the lifetime of moments that followed, they soared.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
A Ghost on Two Wheels
Bebe Balocca
Excerpt
Chapter One
“Barney!” I lean out of the back door and holler up into the meadow. “Barney, damn it, come on in!” As I have for the past several days, I hope to see him dart out from our rickety barn, his namesake and his favourite haunt, and plummet down the gentle slope to our back door like a ginger lightning bolt. Barney enjoys nothing more than lurking in that dusty old barn, chasing field mice and sparrows and lizards, then resting after his hunts in my lap.
We inherited Barney when we bought this old farmhouse ten years ago. After we moved in, we told Mack Grayden, the owner, that we’d found a cat in the barn.
Mack had shrugged and spat on the ground. “Just an old barn cat,” the crusty old man had grunted. “And I got no use for him where I’m going. Keep him or call animal control to pick him up, don’t matter none to me. Reckon you might want a good mouser, though. Keep mice from gettin’ into the place.”
We decided to give the unnamed mouser a trial period. I set out dry cat food in a dish, and the cat acted like it was wild salmon on a bed of caviar. Apparently Mack had never fed the cat at all and had just left him to fend for himself with mice and lizards and whatever else he could catch. The poor, scrawny thing was just skin and bones. We fattened him up, got him checked out at the vet, and invited him into the house. Our hand-me-down cat proved to be a well-adjusted and contented pet, as well as a very, very good eater. He’d rolled with the punches delivered by his neglectful previous owner Mack, and was more than ready for the next phase of his life. Now Barney, as we named the orange barn cat, is part of our family, a huge, tough tomcat who sleeps at the foot of our bed and curls next to me while I write, as loyal as any
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