loving greed. She moaned at the taste of pre-cum that whispered over her taste buds and
teased more to her hungry mouth as his hands tightened in her hair.
Fingers tugged at the long strands, pulled it forward, drew it over his taut abdomen, and a whispered male groan filled her ears.
“Ah, Crista. So sweet and good.” His voice was low and tight with lust. “Perfect, sweet mouth.”
She tongued the underside of his cock, licked and probed and gloried at the shudder that traveled through his heavily muscled body.
She wasn’t as hesitant as she had been eight years ago. She knew what he liked then, what he still liked now, and she applied the lessons he had given her through the long, dark hours on an unforgettable
summer night. Lessons she had dreamed of, fantasized about using on him once again.
“Crista, sweetheart.” Dawg could feel the sweat building on his flesh, the heat rushing through his body.
His head fell to the back of the couch, his eyes closed, and memory slammed into him.
Innocent brown eyes staring at him from the same spot where she knelt now. She had helped him into the
houseboat and then to the couch, and there he had pulled her to his lap, kissed her, caressed her, and
teasingly convinced her to go down on him.
“Suck my dick, baby,” he whispered now as he had whispered then. “God, your mouth is killing me.”
She had been more shy then. Hesitant. A bit of fear in her wide eyes, but mixed with that fear had been
immeasurable excitement.
He forced his head up, his eyes to open, and he stared at her now. Not that much had changed. She was
still shy, a little afraid, but the hesitancy was gone. And the pleasure was starker, clearer.
The sight of that pleasure nearly destroyed his control. That coupled with the heat of her sucking mouth, the tempting touch of her fingers on his shaft and his balls, and her moan, and Dawg knew his control
wouldn’t last much longer.
“Sweet mercy,” he groaned, arching, driving his cock deeper in her mouth as she began to lengthen and
quicken her suckling strokes. “You’re destroying me, Crista.”
He hadn’t expected this. He had expected a fight. Hell, he halfway wanted a fight. Anything to give him
an excuse to escape the hunger that dug into his guts like a dull knife.
There was no escaping it with Crista’s hot mouth wrapped around his dick, though. No escaping the
pleasure or the pain. Each time he stared down at her, past and present merged. What he had believed
were dreams swirled alongside reality.
His chest clenched at the sight of her, emotions held so closely in check for most of his life swirling inside him, confusing him, multiplying the pleasure until he was pulling at her hair, his hips lifting to her, his 49 of 183
2/12/2007 8:45 PM
NautiNights
file:///C:/Users/Kathy/Shared/Lora%20Leigh%20Nauti%20Nights.html
cock flexing, tensing.
“Crista. Sweetheart.” He could barely breathe. Sensation tore through, wrenching at his muscles and
stealing his control. “Ah God. I’m gonna come, baby.”
He couldn’t stand it. His balls were so tight they were torturous, the seed boiling in them, building,
breaking down the walls of his restraint as easily as a hammer against sandstone.
Crista’s lips, mouth, and tongue were destroying him. Giving more pleasure than he had ever known. How
could it be so good? How could one woman, one sweet, shy little mouth rip his control to shreds?
“Ah, God. Crista.” His voice was rasping, guttural. “I can’t hold back. Ease up.”
She didn’t ease up. Her mouth was hungrier, her moans hotter, her fingers…hot, wicked fingers playing
with his balls while the fingers of her other hand stroked his shaft. Her mouth sucked, her tongue licked, her teeth scraped with delicate greed, and an edge of fire ripped through his balls and tore the choice from him.
The first explosive spurt of semen had a strangled cry tearing from his throat. His body tightened to
breaking point, his
teased more to her hungry mouth as his hands tightened in her hair.
Fingers tugged at the long strands, pulled it forward, drew it over his taut abdomen, and a whispered male groan filled her ears.
“Ah, Crista. So sweet and good.” His voice was low and tight with lust. “Perfect, sweet mouth.”
She tongued the underside of his cock, licked and probed and gloried at the shudder that traveled through his heavily muscled body.
She wasn’t as hesitant as she had been eight years ago. She knew what he liked then, what he still liked now, and she applied the lessons he had given her through the long, dark hours on an unforgettable
summer night. Lessons she had dreamed of, fantasized about using on him once again.
“Crista, sweetheart.” Dawg could feel the sweat building on his flesh, the heat rushing through his body.
His head fell to the back of the couch, his eyes closed, and memory slammed into him.
Innocent brown eyes staring at him from the same spot where she knelt now. She had helped him into the
houseboat and then to the couch, and there he had pulled her to his lap, kissed her, caressed her, and
teasingly convinced her to go down on him.
“Suck my dick, baby,” he whispered now as he had whispered then. “God, your mouth is killing me.”
She had been more shy then. Hesitant. A bit of fear in her wide eyes, but mixed with that fear had been
immeasurable excitement.
He forced his head up, his eyes to open, and he stared at her now. Not that much had changed. She was
still shy, a little afraid, but the hesitancy was gone. And the pleasure was starker, clearer.
The sight of that pleasure nearly destroyed his control. That coupled with the heat of her sucking mouth, the tempting touch of her fingers on his shaft and his balls, and her moan, and Dawg knew his control
wouldn’t last much longer.
“Sweet mercy,” he groaned, arching, driving his cock deeper in her mouth as she began to lengthen and
quicken her suckling strokes. “You’re destroying me, Crista.”
He hadn’t expected this. He had expected a fight. Hell, he halfway wanted a fight. Anything to give him
an excuse to escape the hunger that dug into his guts like a dull knife.
There was no escaping it with Crista’s hot mouth wrapped around his dick, though. No escaping the
pleasure or the pain. Each time he stared down at her, past and present merged. What he had believed
were dreams swirled alongside reality.
His chest clenched at the sight of her, emotions held so closely in check for most of his life swirling inside him, confusing him, multiplying the pleasure until he was pulling at her hair, his hips lifting to her, his 49 of 183
2/12/2007 8:45 PM
NautiNights
file:///C:/Users/Kathy/Shared/Lora%20Leigh%20Nauti%20Nights.html
cock flexing, tensing.
“Crista. Sweetheart.” He could barely breathe. Sensation tore through, wrenching at his muscles and
stealing his control. “Ah God. I’m gonna come, baby.”
He couldn’t stand it. His balls were so tight they were torturous, the seed boiling in them, building,
breaking down the walls of his restraint as easily as a hammer against sandstone.
Crista’s lips, mouth, and tongue were destroying him. Giving more pleasure than he had ever known. How
could it be so good? How could one woman, one sweet, shy little mouth rip his control to shreds?
“Ah, God. Crista.” His voice was rasping, guttural. “I can’t hold back. Ease up.”
She didn’t ease up. Her mouth was hungrier, her moans hotter, her fingers…hot, wicked fingers playing
with his balls while the fingers of her other hand stroked his shaft. Her mouth sucked, her tongue licked, her teeth scraped with delicate greed, and an edge of fire ripped through his balls and tore the choice from him.
The first explosive spurt of semen had a strangled cry tearing from his throat. His body tightened to
breaking point, his
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