“Condom?” she pauses.
I lift one side of my ass to get at my back pocket and produce a little packet. She scowls at it, and I almost ask if she’s bothered I have protection so accessible, but she pinches her lips together and rips it open, sheathing me a little too roughly, making me hiss.
I grab her wrist, and her eyes lift. I’m all for letting her take the lead, but won’t stand for that shit.
“If you want me to fuck you, don’t treat this like a fucking inanimate object to get you off.”
“You talk as if it’s a prize I should be grateful for.”
“Feel free to zip me right back up.”
Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I consider how dangerous this is, for both of us.
She straightens and tugs off her panties. My eyes never leave hers, no matter how much I want to look between her thighs or reach out and touch her.
Instead, I issue another challenge with my eyes, and she moves over me, taking my dick in her hand. Lucky for us both she isn’t as rough with it as she lifts her hips and lines me up. I shouldn’t be surprised that she sinks down so fast. Another hiss rushes from between my gritted teeth. Her mouth falls open and a small whimper escapes, her brow furrowing.
She holds still, getting used to the size of my dick that she rammed inside of herself with no thought. She’s wet enough that it didn’t hurt either of us too much.
Kinsley gets over it, her hands grip the shirt beneath my cut, pressing back so I’m pushed further into the cushion behind me.
I’m so caught up in her reaction I take a moment to realize I’m sitting here, in the back room of a damn church, fucking a woman who is doing everything she can to show she hates me. I’m not so sure she does, but I won’t verbalize that.
She’s warm, wet and tighter than I expected her to be, and gritting my teeth is for a whole other reason now. Especially as she moves, rolling her hips in a slow rhythm at first, until she is used to me, then she lets go and rides me fast enough my zipper is rubbing against her skin.
I shift to move it out of the way but notice a slight cut on her inner thigh where it’s torn her skin. She doesn’t seem to care, but my eyes lock on it and I grab hold of her hips, helping to move her faster.
She moans and shifts away from the zipper. Her eyes lower to where I’m hyper focused and she slows, watching as I touch a finger to the small drop of blood. She gasps as I smear it over the skin of her inner thigh, and my gut clenches.
She isn’t batting me away, telling me it hurts, or moving it out of the way. Instead she rolls over me again, the zipper scratching the fresh wound.
“Fuck,” I grunt out.
As hot as this is, I’m letting her see too much of me. This cut will hurt afterwards.
A moment of discomfort to release the pain is quite different to continuously tearing her skin. Lifting her, I shove my pants away, then drag her back down, forcing my eyes away from the blood.
I usually have more finesse than this, but we’re both lost inside our own heads and in her anger and desperation to reach the point she wants to get to.
My focus is pinned to her throat, the dewy skin and slight movement where her pulse is beating a fast rhythm.
I’m drawn away from that when Kinsley pulls on my shirt hard enough that a few buttons pop off and go flying around us, skittering across the floor.
Before I can comment, she rakes her nails down my chest and over my nipples, it stings but feels fucking good, and I thrust up harder.
Kinsley’s eyes are on mine now, she is trying to read me, to understand why that move had me surging up even harder inside of her. I’m not about to get into that and don’t want to answer any questions, so I push my thumb into her mouth and grip her hip hard.
In response, she bites my thumb, but I don’t take it out, I relish the bite. Her nose wrinkles as her teeth scrape my skin, then the bite of her nails has me hissing out again.
Her nails gouge beneath the surface of my chest, not deep because her nails aren’t sharp, but enough to draw blood.
A surge of wetness floods over my balls as her eyes remain fixed on my chest. Her breath catches as she runs a fingertip through the blood, and our eyes meet. What the fuck? She can’t be like me… Can she?
The question is too much for me to ask. I raise my hands and grab hers, forcing them behind her back before either of us gives anything more away.
Then we fight. We push and thrash against each other, my dick moving in and out, her ass cheeks slapping against my thighs. She struggles against my hold, but I don’t let go.
When her eyes squeeze shut and her head tips back, I let go of one of her hands and grab the hair at the back of her head, pulling so she arches backward. I fuck into her until she is screaming through an orgasm that has her tensing and squeezing my cock so damn hard there is no way to hold back my release.
