Hell Sweet, Kayla

15

ZAYN

One split second, I was ready to break every rule of mine as I painfully willed my legs to walk away from sweet Kayla.

Not expecting anyone that late to walk the lonely halls after my meeting in the in-house library, much less a very angry college student bumping into me that she bounces back hard at the impact.

She was a little spit fire with a wild mouth when she is angry and I hate wild mouth wanting to teach her a language lesson for cursing.

She trembled at being slammed to the wall, slowly forcing her to look at me. Kayla blinks nervously biting her lip.

Those eyes, her lips, that ponytail; it became my doom.

Burying my hands deep inside the black pant pocket I have on, I never turned back resisting the urge to do otherwise till I left the villa to restrain whatever charms she has on me.

Her teal green drowned me as I pinned her to the wall. Innocent, delicate, inviting, sweet; and something inside me was ready to claim her there and then.

I wanted to. The desire burned like the scorching sun, it was the first.

The first girl to enact such quick sexual response out of me in a short while. What is it about her?

My eyes trail past her eyes down to her lip mesmerize by the little girl no more than five six or five seven who excites me. Moved to touch her, she moans softly at the connection fluttering her lash in shock before she pops out moist lips.

My dick twitch thinking of the many ways to get a shine on those succulent, plump goodness. Wrapped around my length as she sucks hungrily or lost in the feel of me as I drive her to the moon and back, moaning for me.

For the first time ever, I did not want to only wet my dick in a woman. I wish to satisfy her and give her all she can take till she is passed out from sheer exhaustion.

I am willing to give her pleasures and not take pleasure all to myself.

Probably been long I had a good time, that should be the plausible explanation to this crazy talk.

Dismiss ably, it took everything in me not to tear the thin straps of her dress and have my way with her.

To bury my head on her neck, bite, suck and nibble on her sweet spot to hear more and more of those sounds as my hands fondles her puckered nipples which begs for my attention.

She felt it, even trying to deny it. Her body ease into my touch, responded to me, perplex her to no further end and Kayla seems not to fight me off.

It was a sign.

Just a taste, Zayn. It rings in my head. One taste.

I blink fighting the image of my lips against hers and my finger working on her clit.

She must have been overwhelmed by me seeing the look on her face, I did not want that. No. I acted more like a creep pulling her band off her hair letting the voluminous thickness free.

The image played in my head watching her watch me; I did little to no effect to try to hide the intensifying emotion to tug her hair, locked in the grip of my fingers thrusting with no pause loving the sheen on her skin as she writhe, beg, moan and call my name.

At that moment she is all I can think of, satisfying a growing desire to have her over and over again till she pass out. Suddenly, something struck hard.

Kayla is a juvenile compared to my ways of pleasure; it pained me to know this she is too good to be corrupted by me.

Make her my very good, bad girl.