Gezza stood, squeaking his sneakers on the hard wood, smiling, his mouth wiped, the flavor of Linda Maci still in his mouth, and a little of her warmth.
The Playbook was very hot and pressing against the canvas, and he was compelled to move forward by the weight of his backpack on the counter.
Linda was leaning on the kitchen island with her messy auburn hair, it was sticking on her flushed cheeks.
Her green eyes were staring at him, coy and yet apostolic, her sweater cocked, leaving a curve of cleavage.
Her jeans clung to her hips, her apron thrown out of the door, the tiles covered with flour. Mike's mom, all mine. Fuck you, meathead.
His black jeans were tightening, and his heart was thumping, his ribs still sore after the beating in the alley.
He moved up close where his hoodie rubbed against her arm and the material snagged on her sweater.
"You want this, don't you?" he jested, low-pitched and fingering her waist, her skin burning beneath the thin stuff.
Playbook's got her hooked.
Linda breathe ragged slowly, her hands clawed at the marble edge of the island, whitening her knuckles.
Her lips parted, and a little gasp was released, her body swayed at his, her thighs trembling a little.
"yeess..." then, with a shaky voice, though loving yet heavy with lust, and her eyes agitating up and down the staircase .
Her fingers shivered and touched her bun and loosened more hair. She's nervous, but she's mine.
He bent his head down, his lips against her ear, he could smell her lavender scent, under her sweater his hand was touching, tracing the smooth curve of her stomach.
Her skin was trembling and her shiver went through her; her breath came faster.
His fingers lowered and pulled the waistband of her jeans, the denim coarse on his knuckles.
He flicked the button, the zipper scratching and all the time her hips moving back and forth as he shuffled off the jeans and found crotchless black panties. Goddamn, she's my dream MILF.
His heart skipped and the warmth of the Playbook burned his backpack and a slight chill pierced his chest. Ignore it. I'm in control.
He kissed her neck, the lips touching the pulse, salty, lavender, her head turned backwards, auburn hair falling on her shoulders.
Linda moaned a little, her hands clinging to his hoodie, nails penetrating the material, creating pain in his groin.
"We shouldn't..." said she, as her voice shook, a twitch of her affection coming to her, yet her body was compelled to come still nearer, and her breasts were rubbing against his chest. Book's too strong.
His fingers went under her panties, touching her smooth warmth, and she was stroking her down very slowly, her thighs spreading apart.
And she gasped, louder, and her hands slipped to his shoulders, and her nails tore through the hoodie.
"Shh", he purred, lips on her jaw, his fingers were moving more rapidly, her wetness covering them. This would make Mike lose his head.
Her hips went, grinding against his hand, her moaning was checked as she bit her lip, with green eyes half-shut, waving.
Lemon dish soap and her lavender and their sweat stirring the air of the kitchen, the fridge was humming.
The other hand of Gezza was grasping her breast with thumb going round her nipple through the sweater and its hardness was felt.
She bent, with a low whimper,and her physique was pleading with her speech.
He pressed her against the island, which was marble cool to her hips, her jeans slipping to her ankles, and pooling on the tiles.
His shoes were getting scratched as he pressed himself up, his erection pushing itself up against his jeans, and his thigh rubbing against her. Fuck, she's perfect.
His lips discovered hers and kissed wildly, her tongue met his, sticky and desperate, and he tasted mint and cookies.
Her hands stumbling on his hoodie pulled it up, her nails scratching his chest, leaving it in red lines.
He grumbled and the grumble was harsh and his fingers were going deeper into her and her walls were tightening around his fingers.
The moans of Linda became more acute, her body shook, her hands caught hold of his hair, and dragged him nearer.
"Ahhhhh", she panted, her voice is rough and her loving tone lost in lust. Her thighs shook, her hips jerked, greasiness dripping down his palm.
Playbook is making me go crazy over her. He smiled inside her mouth, his thumb rubbing her clit and her scream was sharp, her body twitching.
The island moaned, the weight changing, her bun undressing entirely, the auburn waves falling.
There was a stinging in Gezza, a more burning stab at the chest, that he wince at. Not now, damn it. He gouged his way through and her moans smothered the agony.
He pulled himself back, pulling his hoodie away, the material hooking on to his greasy hair, throwing it down to the floor.
His hands came back and her sweater was raised, her lacey bra, her breasts full heaving.
He undone it and the hook clucked open, her breasts falling out, nipples firm.
One of them was shut by his lips, his tongue twisting,
"Be.. GentLe." She moaned loud, her hands gripping his head, her nails scraping his scalp.
She slipped off the island, her jeans hooked about her ankles, fell against him, her body hot and sticky. "What did you do to me." Her voice low and panting
Her hands tripped over his jeans, the zipper scratching liberating his erection. "you feel inresistable ." She said.
"Love at first sight." He kissed her neck savoring the taste of her skin.
Her hand fell on his Length, caressing very slowly, warm and firm, his knees shaking a little.
His head jerked back. Fuck, she's good. He moaned, his lips returned on her throat, her lavender smelling so sweet.
And her strokes grew faster, and her breath hot on his cheek, and her eyes stuck on his, and pudish and hungry.
"I Want you", she said, her voice was shaking and the spell of the Playbook was too strong to resist.
Her hand was touching him, her thighs opened further, her back rising against the island.
Gezza heart leaped, his hands on her hips, and he was ready to thrust in, when another chill stabbed at his chest, deeper, colder.
He fended it off, his sleaze throbbing all the more, about to have her to the full, as the kitchen island creeked at their weight.