Shelly Laurenston: Pack Challenge

Her fist had just reached back to punch him again and hopefully break his nose, when he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the floor. High enough, in fact, so that she had to look down at him. She had to admit, she was impressed. Not simply because he risked getting that close to her when even she could feel herself going “feral” again, but because at 6 feet tall and… well, rather curvy, she wasn’t the first chick guys looked at to lift over their heads—unless they were football players and really drunk.

“Do I have your attention now?”

His voice was so soft and so seductive; she should have known he was up to absolutely no good. Because when she nodded yes, Zach with an evil-sounding “good” chucked her—yes, chucked her— across the living room into her old, but thankfully sturdy, couch.

Sara let out a surprisingly girlish squeal as she landed on her side and felt her ass hit the back cushions. To Sara’s further astonishment she wasn’t hurt, mostly just stunned. And when she opened her eyes, which she had slammed shut as soon as she took flight, Zach was walking calmly toward her.

“Honestly. The things I have to do to keep you from killing anybody.”

And there went the towel. The only thing between her and his mammoth cock.

She scrambled up onto all fours and tried to go over the arm rest, but he grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him.

“Oh, no you don’t, beautiful.”

“Don’t even think about it…aye!” He’d snatched her off the couch and wrapped her legs low around his waist, his hands under her ass. His lips on her throat. His hard erection pushing against her leg. “Don’t,” she begged. “I can’t think when your hands are on me.”

“Good. Then we’re even.”

She started at that. Could she actually have the same effect on him that he had on her? She didn’t want to believe it. Instead she wanted to hate him. Hate him for breaking through that armor that she had spent her whole life building around herself so that she could be safe.

She felt him pulling at her jersey and she grabbed his hand. “Hey! There will be no yanking or tearing of the Cowboys. Ever.”

First he looked surprised. Then he looked really amused. “Then you better get it off… or it’s shredded.”

Sara swallowed as she realized that as “amused” as he may look, he was as serious as a heart attack. At least she convinced herself that taking off her shirt was to protect her Cowboys and not because she wanted his hand and mouth on her tits.

She leaned back and pulled the jersey over her head, dropping it to the floor.

“Now the pants.” He placed her back on the couch so that she was standing over him, his hand still possessively on her hip.

“I…” was all she got out, but he tugged at her favorite comfy pants with an expression that said “either you take them off or I take them off.”

“Okay. Okay. Christ, I’m runnin’ out of clothes.” She untied the drawstring and let the pants fall at her feet. She heard a definite change in his breathing as he stared at her body. His hand running over her flesh. Sara looked at the ceiling, completely uncomfortable with anyone staring at her naked.

“You going to look at me?” He asked her quietly.

“Nope.”

She felt him kiss her stomach. “You sure?”

She cleared her throat. “Yup.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want.” She felt his finger slip into her pussy.

Sara let out a surprised gasp as his thumb caressed her clit, while his forefinger slowly stroked in and out of her. She wanted to ignore him. Wanted to keep looking at the ceiling and pretending that he wasn’t giving her a hand job right in the middle of her living room. But when his middle finger joined the other inside her and his thumb made lazy circles around her clit, she couldn’t pretend anymore. Her hands gripped his shoulder and her eyes locked with his.

He smiled at her. That sweet smile that she had so grown to love. “Tell me what you want, Sara.”

What she wants? She closed her eyes. How was she supposed to know that? Five minutes ago, she wanted nothing more than to kill somebody. Now, at this very moment, she could care less. She didn’t know what she wanted.

“I don’t know.”

“Liar.” He licked a line across her belly. “Tell me what you want, Sara.”

She could feel warmth spreading from her groin and up her back. She could feel that heat building. She held onto his shoulders because it was the only thing that was keeping her standing.

“You, Zach.” She opened her eyes and looked down at him. “I want you.”

Was that surprise on his handsome face? She wasn’t sure. But it was gone in a second and he kept working her clit, while his other two fingers slowly fucked her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as the first spasm tore through her. She gasped and let out a moan as she came.

Zach felt the orgasm when her tight pussy practically snapped his fingers in two during that first spasm. But it was watching her face that made it all worth it. Her eyes closed. Her bottom lip gripped by one of her incisors. That fucking amazing growling sound she made when she came.

She spasmed again and then her knees gave out. He made sure she dropped onto the couch as opposed to the floor. Her breathing came out in ragged gasps. Her fingers were still gripped into his shoulders. He laid his hand gently on her mound, until the spasms eased down.

Finally she loosened her grip on him. But, to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his chest. “When, exactly, did I become such a fucking whore?”

Now Zach was completely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Me. I’m a whore.” Zach wasn’t sure if she wanted him to start calling her that during sex or if she was serious. Instead of potentially sending her spiraling into depression, he decided to go with her possibly being serious.

“Do you do this sort of thing with everybody in town?”

“No!” She looked up at him, completely insulted.

“Then you’re not a whore. Psychotic? Absolutely. Whore? No. Now,” He brushed against her smooth, tight body as he laid back on the couch, his erection standing at full attention, as the damn thing always seemed to do in her presence. “I think you’ve got some unfinished business here.”

She frowned, clearly confused. He motioned to his cock, “Hello? You didn’t finish the job last night.”

She smirked, her arms crossing in front of that gorgeous chest of hers. “If I remember correctly, you practically ripped the hair out of my head getting me off it.”

“I called rain check.”

Sara burst out laughing. She had the sweetest laugh and, unlike the entire Pack, actually found him funny. “You are so full of shit!”

“No. Really. I said,” He covered his mouth with one hand, still smelling her scent on it. “Rain check.”

“Really? ‘cause I thought I heard ‘flip over.’”

“I was thinking rain check?” He asked hopefully.

“Pathetic.” She ran one long finger the entire length of the shaft. “At least not all of you is as pathetic.” She ran her finger along the tip, cleaning off the pre-come. Then he watched as she slipped that finger into her mouth and sucked it clean. He clenched his jaw tight as she leaned into him. Her naked body pressing against his. She swept her tongue around and across his nipple, then softly sucked. Zach felt the tension from the past day slip away as her tongue led a brutal trail down his chest and across his abs, stopping briefly to lick his recent wound. His hands reached out and gently touched her black hair, marveling at how beautiful it was. How beautiful she was.