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My tongue moves in the warm crevice of her mouth, and I can taste the minty flavor of her toothpaste. My hand moves to circle her neck, a dominant hold as I kiss the fight out of her.
When I pull away, her eyes are cloudy. “Not fair,” she whispers. I smirk, and my fingers reach for her clit, and I rub the small, hard nub, making her quiver in my arms. “Ian. Don’t! Ahh!”
Her cry is short as she comes again just from my playing with her clit. Without pausing, I thrust two fingers in her drenched pussy, and my cock becomes almost painfully hard when her inner muscles contract on my thick fingers, wanting something else.
I work my fingers in her, pumping them in and out, dragging another orgasm out of her. Her chest heaves up and down, and her pretty nipples catch my attention. I lower my mouth and suck on one of them, enjoying her half-formed cries as I pin her naked form against the door with my fully clothed one, my fingers still pumping inside her pussy.
Another orgasm and I take out my fingers and feed the remaining juices on them to her. Her face is flushed as she accepts my silent command to open her mouth, and it pleases me to see how obedient she has become after just a handful of orgasms.
However, Agatha isn’t without a few tricks of her own. As she swirls her tongue around my fingers, her half-mast eyes warn me of trouble. The way her small mouth sucks on my fingers make me want to replace them with my cock.
I want her on her knees before me, worshipping my cock, but I also want to watch these helpless expressions on her face when I drive her over the edge.
I take out my fingers and kiss her, an open-mouthed kiss, an erotic entangling of tongues that is primitive and raw. Pulling away, my breath still on her lips, I murmur, “Why don’t you take out my cock?”
The fact that I am making her undress me isn’t lost on her.
Her hands go down to my pants, and as she deftly unzips and unbuttons, she breathes, “I’m only being compliant because I want your cock fucking my brains out.”
I grip her by the jaw and plant a harsh kiss on her lips, making her moan, and I tell her, “I will never give up control in the bedroom, Agatha. Have fun trying to take it from me.”
I feel her small hands wrap around my thick cock and as she looks down at it, I see the hunger and desire in her eyes as she takes the condom I offer and carefully rolls it down my length.
Picking her up by her waist, I wrap her legs around me, and without warning, thrust into the wetness of her pussy.
I feel like a randy teenager. My cock is near to bursting, and since I don’t want to come too quickly, I move slowly.
It is the right thing to do apparently because I have never seen Agatha beg and right now, as I slowly fuck her against the door, she pleads with me to move faster, to fuck her harder.
I never even knew she has such a sailor’s vocabulary. I make sure she feels every inch of my cock as it goes inside her. She grabs me by the hair and pulls me into a fierce kiss before hissing, “If you can’t fuck me like a man, maybe I should just get one of those dildos—”
I take my dick out, and lifting her easily, I impale her on it in a quick movement, making her gasp at the sharp pleasure. Self-control making beads of sweat pour down my face, I piston in and out of her, her screams driving me on, her cries of my name like music to my ears.
Her inner muscles clench on my cock, and I pull out again as she orgasms. Dropping her legs to the floor, I whirl her around ‘til she is facing the door, pinning both of her wrists in one hand above her and kicking her legs apart.
I drive my cock in, this time reaching a deeper penetration that makes her howl my name. I jackhammer her pussy ‘til she comes one more time. Then, I let go.
I groan out my release, her name in my head.
We are both a mess, our legs so wobbly that asking us to walk in a straight line is mocking us. We somehow make it to the couch, and I drag her over me.
“I’ve never,” her voice is hoarse, “It’s never been like this.”
I wipe the sweat out of my eyes. “You’re telling me.”
She looks up at me. “Please tell me you ordered food.”
“You can always eat my—”
“Eww, Ian! You’re sick.” She slaps me on the chest, scowling, and I laugh.
“I was going to say leftover sandwich. Who’s the pervert now?” As she rolls off me and pad to the shower, I grin, following her. “Doe
s this mean no second round?”
She drags me into the bathroom.
8
