Panting, laughing, she slides one shoulder out of the jumpsuit, exposing a lacy bra barely containing her breast. I take her tit into my mouth, sucking through the cup of silk and lace. She wiggles until the other sleeve slides down her arm, the top flopping over. I plunge my hand down the waistband and cup her pussy through her panties. She’s soaked and my hand is wet between her thighs. I drop my head so our temples kiss, and I turn my nose into a cloud of fragrant curls.

“I want to taste your pussy again, but I also want to fuck you immediately. It’s a conundrum.”

She pushes at the gathered waist of the jumpsuit, forcing it over the exaggerated flare of her hips and ass.

“Door number two,” she laughs huskily. “I promise you can eat me out later.”

The dark blue silk slithers down her long legs. She steps out of the jumpsuit, standing in her panties and bra and heels. She doesn’t wait for me but shimmies out of her underwear.

“Bra, too,” I order, my voice gruff with desire, my mouth slack with awe.

Her body is made with a reckless disregard for resistance. Full, firm, heavy breasts tipped with chocolate kisses. There’s a decadent fullness to her hips and thighs and ass. Aiko is extremely petite, and I’ve never compared the women I’ve been with. But by my response to Kimba’s body, I could tell myself I just never realized I’m a breast man. I’m an ass man. A leg man. All the things Kimba has in abundant beauty, but that would be a lie. Kimba could be smaller. Bigger. Less toned and less smooth. My preferences aren’t defined by what a woman has, but by who this woman is.

I’m a Kimba man, and I think she’s ruined me for anyone else.

I don’t want anyone else.

She strips off the bra and reaches for the heels.

“Keep them.” I catch her hand, linking our fingers by her head against the door. “Let’s fuck.”

“I have one request,” she says breathlessly.

“What?”

Her eyes drop between us and she licks her lips. “Can I suck your dick just a little bit first?”

Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good. I look up to the heavens and offer a silent alleluia.

“You may,” I manage to grit out.

Our gazes tangle, and she pulls her hand free of mine, opens my belt, slides down my zipper, and pulls my pants and boxers down until my dick appears.

“Oh.” She sighs, holding me with one hand and caressing my balls with the other. “This is good. This is very good.”