Read From the Streets to the Sheets for Free Online Page B

me, Sweets?” he asked, positioning my ass on the cushion and putting my legs on his shoulders.
    Nodding, I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as he pushed his weight on the back of my thighs, making my knees touch my shoulders.
    “Watch,” he demanded.
    “No,” I replied breathlessly. 12 knew I wanted to feel the experience, not see it. Fuckin’ one of my boys wasn’t right, but it was necessary—needed—after I’d had my ass blessed.
    The body heat between my legs cooled when 12 removed his hands from my legs and his midsection from above mine.
    “Gimme what I want, you’ll get what’chu want,” he said, crossing his arms.
    I shook my head in disbelief. 12 was strong-arming me, and he knew it. We’d gone through this before, but he’d never pulled away. This time he was serious. And I was in desperate need of feeling his hardness penetrate my softness. So although my mind said no, my body told it to shut the fuck up.
    “A’ight,” I gave in, knowing I’d regret it later.
    Again his weight pressed against my flesh as he grabbed my ankles, spreading them as far apart as he could. Searching my eyes, he told me to put him inside my wetness—another thing he knew I didn’t do.
    Cupping my hand around him, I swallowed my rules as I tried to wrap my fingers around his girth. Excitement veined throughout me when it proved impossible. His dick was just too big. But huge or not, I gently grabbed it, put the head onto my wetness, and tried to calm my pulsing coochie. Up and down. I rubbed his pole between my wet slit, teasing him and tantalizing myself. I needed my form of foreplay to relax—open up—so he could fit that chocolate monster inside me without damn near splitting me in two like the last time.
    “I got it,” he said, releasing my right ankle from his grip, placed it on his left shoulder.
    My breathing labored when I realized that he was putting me in the twist. Right ankle opposite shoulder. Left leg splayed toward the floor, as far as his arm extended. 12 had rotated my landing strip, and was going to work me in a sideways V. I damn near fainted at the thought.
    In and out, he dipped the head of his thickness into me. My wetness voiced its yearning as it snapped, crackled, and popped with each tease. My pussy was talking to him, begging him for a taste as he continued sliding his head up and down my split.
    “Fuck me . . . I want every inch.”
    Biting down on his lip, he lightly pinched my clit, then softly kneaded it with his thumb and index finger. Euphoria moved through me, pushed me to the edge. But I refused to jump. No way was I going to cum without his dick riding me over the rainbow.
    “Ya sure you want to do this, Sweets?” He slid a couple of inches in me. “Ya know the other reason I go by 12, right?” he asked, teasing and warning me. Baby had damn near a foot-long, but I had my own sweet weapon.
    “Yeah,” I panted. “Same reason my name’s Sweets.”
    Holding my lower lips open, 12 worked his way halfway in. Creaming myself, I couldn’t contain my excitement. That niggah had a way of hurting me so good. I wiggled, tensed, and met his thrust when he fit his long thickness inside me. Clawing at the chaise, his chest, anything I could get my hands on, I gripped. Had to bear down on something to keep myself from screaming as I felt my poom-poom stretch until it burned. His actions said he knew he was doing me in, and he was going to make me suffer. Pounding, he manhandled my pussy—beat it up—made me take all of him. And I came. Came. Then came some more, wetting my walls for him to slide and glide in my hotness before pulling out and erupting on my stomach.
    Two minutes later, we were both panting. He was on the floor, I was still spread out on the chaise with gapped legs.
    “Why you keep givin’ me the pussy, Sweets?”
    I turned to him, shook my head. He was my boy, but he was fuckin’ up my flow. I wanted to bask in the moment, and he wanted to ask questions. Quiz