Chapter 127: Welcome Back Home Sex
She sank to her knees right there in the hallway.
The sight of her kneeling before him in nothing but her trousers, her breasts bare, her blue eyes looking up at him with naked want—made Sean’s breath catch in his throat.
Makima wrapped her hand around the base of his cock. Her fingers didn’t quite meet around the thickness of him. She gave a slow squeeze, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to the tip.
"God," Sean breathed.
Her tongue emerged—wet, pink, deliberate—and traced a slow circle around the head. She took her time. Licking the ridge. Teasing the sensitive underside. She pressed the flat of her tongue against the slit and then drew back, a thin strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to the tip of him.
"I’ve been thinking about this," she said, her voice husky. "Every night , you weren’t home"
"Show me what you were thinking about."
She did.
Her lips parted and she took him into her mouth—slowly, deliberately, inch by inch. The heat of her was staggering. Wet and tight and impossibly soft. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of his shaft as she sank deeper, her lips stretched around his girth, her cheeks hollowing with the suction.
Sean’s hand found the back of her head. Not pushing. Just resting there. Feeling the movement of her as she worked him.
Makima pulled back until just the tip remained between her lips, then sank down again—deeper this time, taking him to the back of her throat. She held there for a heartbeat, two, her throat working around him, and then she pulled back with a wet, obscene sound that echoed in the quiet hallway.
"You taste good," she murmured against his skin.
Her hand pumped the base of him while her mouth focused on the head—sucking, licking, her tongue flicking rapidly across the sensitive spot just beneath the ridge. The wet sounds of her mouth filled the space, obscenely loud, and Sean’s thighs tensed with the effort of not thrusting.
Then she pulled back entirely.
"Wait," she said, breathless. "I want to try something."
She shifted position, pressing her breasts together with both hands, creating a deep valley of warm brown flesh. Her eyes met his as she guided his cock between them, sandwiching him in the soft, tight channel she’d created.
"Like this," she whispered. "Fuck my tits."
The visual alone nearly undid him. Makima’s full breasts wrapped around his shaft, her nipples dark and tight, her mouth positioned perfectly above the head of him. She began to move—slow at first, rocking her chest up and down—and Sean’s cock slid through the warm, soft press of her cleavage with an ease that made his jaw clench.
Then she lowered her mouth and took the head between her lips at the top of each stroke.
The combination was devastating. Her soft tits squeezing his shaft, her wet mouth sucking the tip, her tongue swirling around the head every time it emerged from between her breasts. She found a rhythm, rocking and sucking, her eyes never leaving his face.
"How does that feel," she murmured, pausing just long enough to speak before taking him back into her mouth.
Sean’s response was a rough groan. His hands fisted at his sides. The pressure was building—low and heavy at the base of his spine. Makima sensed it. She increased her pace, her breasts pressed tighter around him, her mouth working the head with focused, rhythmic suction.
"I’m close," he warned.
Her response was to take him deeper. She abandoned the tit job and took his entire cock into her mouth, one hand cupping his balls, the other gripping his hip. Her throat opened for him. She swallowed around the head of him.
Sean came with a guttural moan.
The first pulse hit him hard, hot and overwhelming, and Makima held steady, her lips sealed around his shaft, her throat working as she swallowed. Pulse after pulse, she took everything he gave her, her eyes watering slightly at the corners but never closing, never looking away. When the last shudder left him, she pulled back slowly, her lips dragging along his length, and swallowed one final time.
A thin trickle of white escaped the corner of her mouth. She caught it with her thumb and licked it clean.
"Good?" she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.
Sean pulled her to her feet and kissed her—deep and grateful and still a little breathless. He could taste himself on her tongue, salt and bitterness, and underneath it, the familiar sweetness of her.
"My turn," he said against her lips.
—
He walked her backward into the bedroom.
Her trousers came off—his fingers working the button, sliding the zipper down, pushing the fabric over her hips. Her panties followed, black and already soaked through, the evidence of her arousal glistening on her inner thighs. Naked now, she lay back on the bed, her dark hair fanning across the pale sheets, her blue eyes dark with anticipation.
Sean knelt between her thighs and took a moment to look.
Her pussy was spread before him—the outer lips full and dark, the inner lips swollen and pink and slick with her arousal. Her clit peeked out from its hood, a small pearl throbbing visibly under his gaze. The musky scent of her filled his nostrils, warm and intoxicating.
"You’re staring again," Makima said, her voice strained.
"Yeah."
He lowered his mouth to her.
His tongue traced the seam of her first—slow and flat, parting her folds, tasting the salt-sweet essence of her. Makima’s hips bucked. A moan tore from her throat. Sean wrapped his arms around her thighs and pinned her in place, holding her open while his mouth worked her with deliberate, focused attention.
He licked her from bottom to top. Then top to bottom. His tongue circled her clit without touching it—teasing, tracing the sensitive flesh around it—and Makima’s fingers fisted in the sheets.
"Sean, please—"
He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked.