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"Knees on the bed, baby," he demanded, voice somehow both soft and rough at the same time.
Planting my forearms on the mattress, I pulled my knees up, feeling them teetering on the edge as he moved in a little closer, his thighs brushing the insides of my ankles as his fingers traced up the backs of my thighs until they found my skirt, pulling it up over my ass, and bunching it around my waist.
A low, growling sound moved through him then worked its way into my body.
Because, well, the panties were hot.
Just a small swatch of hot pink lace under each cheek, then fancy strapping over the asscheecks that met into a bow at the top of my ass.
"Wore them for you to rip off," I admitted.
"You were thinking about me, huh?" he asked, sounding way too pleased by the prospect.
"Just thinking about what you'd do to me after ripping them off," I rushed to cover, not wanting him to think I thought of him in other ways even if the truth of the matter was that I did.
"Hmm," he said, hand moving out to massage my left buttcheek for a second before gathering all of the straps in one fist and yanking. The lace between my legs pulled impossibly tight, pressing hard against my already-swollen clit before the sound of it tearing broke through the quiet of the room. "You mean like this?" he asked, fingers sliding up my cleft to circle my clit.
"Yeah, like that," I panted, hands fisting his sheets as my hips rocked, thrusting my ass further out at him.
"Or this?" he asked when his cock replaced his fingers, tapping against my clit.
"That too," I agreed, fighting a moan.
"And what about this?" he asked, his cock gliding backward, then slamming in to the hilt on one thrust.
"Fuck," I whimpered, trying to breathe through the constricted feeling in my chest.
Then, well, he fucked me.
Plain and simple.
Hard and fast.
One hand sank into my hip, the only thing keeping me from slamming forward into the wall in front of me with each thrust. The other, when I tried to lean forward to bury my face in the blankets, trying to muffle my moans, tracked up my spine to slip into the hair at the base of my neck, curling, and pulling back hard enough to make my back arch to try to ease the pain/pleasure sting.
"No," he growled as he pulled. "I want everyone in this compound to know I own this pussy," he finished.
There was no more talking after that.
Just fucking.
Feeling.
Then crying out his name as I came.
He came on the tail-end of my orgasm, cursing out my name as well.
After, I fell forward, rolling onto my back as Sugar walked into the bathroom to deal with the condom. Deep-breathing to try to get my heartbeat back under control, I looked down, seeing the cups of my bra all askew, my boobs all just doing their own damn thing. I was still shoving them back into their jail when Sugar came back out, eyes moving up my bare legs and the skirt I hadn't bothered to yank back down yet before landing on my face as he half-dove onto the bed at my side, closest to the wall, flopping onto his back as well, one hand under his neck, the other resting on the center of his stomach where you could still see abs, even in his relaxed position.
All that went through my head right then was an even more startling revelation.
I really like this.
And, perhaps worse: I wonder what cuddling might be like.
Ugh.
What was happening to me?
"Just so you know," I started, trying to cover what was going on inside, "you don't own me."
"Never said I did."
"You..." I started, but was cut off when his hand suddenly cupped me between my legs.
"Said I own this. Meant it too. While I'm fuckin' you, no one else is."
I liked that.
That possessiveness.
And I knew I shouldn't.
"You don't get to tell me what to do with my own body."
His lips tipped up wickedly, his finger flicking my clit unexpectedly, sending a jolt of rekindled desire through me.
"Too bad, Peyt. That's how it is."
"What, do you make all the clubwhores agree to this too?"
"You're not a clubwhore."
"No? What am I then?"
"You're--" he started, looking suddenly at the ceiling like it had some answers. "You're something else."
"Well..." I started, reaching over to grab his cock. "Fine. Then this is mine too. No fucking anyone else while you're fucking me."
Oh, good god.
Did I, Miss Non-Exclusive, just demand exclusivity?
Seriously, what the hell was going on with me?
Then the unthinkable happened. Sugar's ever-present arm slid under my neck and force-curled me into him.
For the first time in my very colorful, healthfully varied and shameless sex life, I knew what the feel of a man's chest under my cheek felt like. And, well, let me tell you, it felt good. It felt way, way too good. Dangerously good. Then when his arm curled tighter, holding me to him, forcing my whole body to meld into his, yeah, that felt even better. Finally, when his other hand went across his body to stroke up and down my thigh, hip, and the exposed part of my lower back. Gently. You wouldn't think a man like him - rough and wild - could do something gently. But he could.
