Chapter 31 Sexiest Model Fantasy (3)

• Cynthia’s mouth pulled off my nipple with a wet pop, the sound echoing in the penthouse like a dirty little promise. We both froze for a second, then burst into soft, breathy laughs—giddy, reckless, caught up in the heat of it all. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and I couldn’t resist. I leaned in, my lips finding her tits—full and soft, her nipples dark and stiff against my tongue. I sucked hard, swirling around one, then the other, tasting her skin, feeling her shudder under me. She moaned low, her hands gripping my shoulders, urging me on.
• Then she pulled back, smirking like she had a secret. “Hold on,” she purred, sliding off me to grab one of the shopping bags she’d dropped by the door. My heart pounded as she rummaged, pulling out a can of whipped cream with a wicked grin. She shook it, popped the cap, and sprayed a thick, cold swirl across her tits, the white cream dripping down her curves. “Come get it,” she teased, and I didn’t hesitate—I dove in, sucking the hell out of her, my tongue lapping up the sweet mess. She moaned louder, head tipping back, her fingers threading through my hair as I devoured her, the cream smearing across my lips, my chin, her skin.
• “Fuck, Jess,” she gasped, her voice shaky, needy, as I licked and sucked, the taste of her mixing with the sugar on my tongue. I couldn’t get enough—her tits were a goddamn feast, and I was starving. Then I grabbed her hand, sticky with cream and spit, and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Come on,” I said, my voice husky, desperate. She followed, laughing, as we stumbled down the hall, she landed a sharp slap on my ass. I yelped, the sting blooming into heat, and she did it again, her hand cracking against my bare cheek, making it jiggle as we crashed through the doorway.