K is for Kinky Read Online Free

the praise, I wasn’t acting much like a proper princess anymore. My chest was flushed pink with arousal, beads of sweat trickled down my chest and sides, and I was whimpering. When Mark slipped a finger between my lips and began to rub my clit with quick come-hither strokes, any attempt at royal decorum was futile. I flung my head back and howled as my orgasm finally burst free, spiraling up my spine like a fireball as my ass jerked and quivered over him.
    Mark didn’t protest when I collapsed over him in a gelatinous heap, although at that point my posture left much to be desired.
    â€œIt’s your turn,” I croaked, my throat sore from the screaming.
    â€œI’ll wait,” he said, stroking my back, “until I make you come the second time.”
    For a woman, meaningless one-night stands are always a gamble—you can end up the loser even if you win. But this time I knew, as I grinned into his hunky shoulder, that I’d just hit the jackpot.
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    Two weeks later, I’d pretty much moved in with Mark, although we weren’t officially a couple, at least in my mind. I had to admit there were benefits to the arrangement: the smoothies, the free workout advice, the fact I could laugh and relax with him because it didn’t really mean anything. Best of all, I discovered that Mark enjoyed games as much as I did, if I nudged him in the right direction.

    Like the evening Mark was watching an NBA playoff game and I sat down beside him to snuggle while I read over some proposals I’d brought home from work. He slipped an arm around me and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. I’m not sure why, but suddenly work was the last thing on my mind. I had to fuck Mark, the sooner the better. I burrowed a little closer and rested my hand on his thigh. He smiled at me, absently, then turned his gaze back to the TV.
    I shifted restlessly. If I wasn’t even calling him a boyfriend, I hardly had the right to demand his attention when the fate of his favorite team was in the balance. I’d just about resigned myself to an evening of dutiful reading when his fingers tightened around my shoulder again.
    I held my breath.
    Eyes still glued to the TV, Mark’s left hand crept over to unbutton the top button of my blouse.
    The hand withdrew as he pumped a fist in the air for a three-pointer.
    I waited, my chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, until the hand returned.
    With aching slowness, Mark worked his way down the column of buttons, until the blouse hung open to expose my lacy bra. He cupped my breast, his fingers kneading lightly, but without real focus. He wasn’t even hitting the good parts. I sighed loudly and shuffled the papers in my lap.
    Finally he turned to me. “What’s the matter, princess?”
    As if he didn’t know. With this attitude, he didn’t deserve sex, but suddenly I was feeling hornier and more desperate than ever. “Please, Mark. Can we…you know?”

    He shrugged and looked back at the TV, his expression blank. “I’m happy just doing this for a while.”
    His fingers started up with the teasing again. This time he did graze my nipple now and then, but it wasn’t enough. In frustration, I unzipped my jeans and wiggled them down to my knees, then shoved my hand in my panties and started to masturbate.
    At last I got him to peel his eyes away from the TV, although he glanced back to watch a free throw. I quickened the pace and moaned. His eyes fell to my lap again. This time they lingered. Mark had asked me to play with myself for him our first morning together, but I’d felt too shy. This time I pulled out the stops, squirming and jerking my hips and murmuring how much I wanted a big, hard cock inside me. It wasn’t a lie. I was so wet, my finger made a moist, squishy sound as I strummed.
    Mark made a funny grunt and clicked off the TV. Resting his hands on my shoulders, he eased me back on the sofa as if