His thumb stroked my jaw.
“Mekhi—” I was ready to argue.
“See? You don’t listen,” he murmured.
“Half the time, you don’t talk,” I fired back.
“You stubborn.”
“You bossy.”
“You mouthy.”
“You like it,” I taunted.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
“Don’t play with me, Farrah.”
“Or what?”
It was like something in him snapped.
And then he kissed me. It wasn’t sweet or soft or gentle. Nah, Mekhi kissed me like he was mad at me, hard, probing, dominant. His tongue tangled with mine and won that particular battle.
He backed me up, our lips fused, until I bumped into the couch. Only then did he pull back to glare down at me.
“Don’t you ever do that crazy shit again, Little Thug. You hear me?” he asked tightly.
I nodded, too distracted to speak. Our hands were busy, rubbing and touching each other. A startled sound escaped me as he spun me around and bent me over the couch. I squealed as he yanked my skirt up roughly. Holding on to the couch’s back, I moaned softly as he greedily palmed my panty-clad butt.
“This ass,” he groaned, squeezing and rubbing. “I oughta spank it. That’s what your hard-headed ass needs, Little Thug. I got other plans, though…”
I gasped a second later when I felt the sharp pressure of his teeth nipping one of my cheeks. Then, the panties were being yanked down, and he smacked my ass kinda hard.
“Mekhi!” I whined.
“Shut up,” he ordered, but he rubbed away the sting. “Spread these thighs for me.”
I moved my feet apart, aggravated but also anticipating. He didn’t make me wait long.
“Look at that. Youcanbe obedient. Good girl,” he whispered, before starting a long, heated slide into me.
“So fucking wet. You always so wet and so tight, Farrah,” he groaned.
I didn’t know what to say to that, which was good, because I was beyond speaking. He felt so damn good, stretching and filling me, easing the hungry throbbing of my pussy even as he stoked it.
“Khiiiii,” I moaned.
“I’on wanna hear that shit,” he muttered, his rhythm picking up as he pressed me lower over the couch. “Tell me you sorry for scaring the shit out of me.”
“Mm. Uh-uh-uh.” I tried to respond but found my speech limited to the rhythmic sounds he drilled out of me.
His hands moved, squeezed my waist, pulling me back into each punishing thrust. My mouth might not be sorry, but my pussy would be.
“Farrah!”
“You said… uh… you said y-y-you let them f-follow us there. You gotta be sor-sorry, too.”
