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I grab her ankles and set her feet on the countertop, spread apart to open her legs. Jesus, her pussy is fine as fuck. Raw meat in front of a wild animal. I'm going to devour it. And I do, listening to her scream the entire time I suck her off. Foreplay isn't something I take slow. I never have. I'm not interested in savoring it. To me it's an introduction to what I really want, so I don't draw it out. It's about respect for me. Show her a good time and she'll show me one.
When I go down on a woman or work her clit, it's always for quick orgasm. Men aren't predictable. No matter what any girl thinks, we can't control our dicks. Sometimes we last a while, and sometimes we're lucky to last twenty minutes, if that, so this way, I know I'm not selfish if it's a bad day. When her orgasm dwindles and she's silent, I stand, unbuttoning my jeans.
She shakes her head. "What the fuck? You're stopping?" Her crooked smile tells me otherwise.
She grabs onto my shirt, pulling me toward her. Her eyes are as heavy as mine feel. "Take it to my room. As much as I love being naughty where I'll fix my breakfast in the morning, my brother and his fiancé are in town. They're staying with me and I don't know what time they'll be back."
She wraps her legs around my waist. My smile is back. I was on the verge of being seriously pissed as hard as I am, or as hard as I think I am. At this point everything is slightly altered and some may be imagined or exaggerated from the truth. I grab the bottle from her hand and set it in the sink, lifting her off the counter. "Which room?"
"Room to the right." I carry her, making every step count, kicking the door shut as I enter. It's dark. Better for me. Girls will do anything in the dark. She lifts my shirt when I lay her on the bed. Once it passes over my head I stand, removing my shoes, before I push my jeans and boxer briefs to the floor, stepping out of them.
The room is spinning, but I ignore it, because her feet are already wrapped around my waist, pulling me forward between her legs. I fall forward, catching myself with my palms on the bed. "I'm fucked up."
She licks her lips, looking at me. "Me too. But I still want it."
I slam my lips against hers, trying to sway the dizziness as I crawl on the bed, hoping like hell I don't have whiskey dick right now. I'm so drunk I can't feel much. My entire mind and body are numb, my vision blurry. It's unfortunate too, because she's a hot one, and that's less for me to remember later.
Her hands grip my ass, pulling me closer to her body. "Fuck. Would you do it already?"
I grab my dick, placing the tip at the opening of her pussy, quickly and roughly thrusting inside until I'm completely submerged. "Like that?" I grit out, before pulling back and ramming it back inside.
Her head rolls against the bed, giving me a free view of her neck, the deep moans answering my question. I grip her hair and jerk it, exposing her throat completely, biting the front between my teeth. "Harder," she says.
My lips move to her ear. "You may regret that, sexy."
I stand on my knees and grab her ankles, pinning them back toward her head, folding her over to give me unrestricted access and leverage for my lower body. She has no idea what kind of animal she just woke up. Hard is my middle name and pounding is my game. Each time my pelvis hammers against her underside she screams out.
I cross one foot to the other side, gripping her hip to change her position, slowing but not stopping. I lean over her before she can fully stand on her hands and knees. "When I'm done you're going to be sore."
I upright my body, leaving her in my favorite position—ass out, tits down, and back in view. When she's on all fours in front of me I begin driving my cock into her again with force she won't forget. Her voice leaves a new set of tingles down my spine with each throaty moan followed by a higher pitched deep scream as I hit the back of her pussy. I slap her ass, hard, wanting to hear it again. She doesn't disappoint. I love a verbal woman.
My hand clamps around the front of her neck and I pull her up enough to keep her at an extended arm's reach, still angled at her hips. The sound of the main door opening and closing occurs, followed by another. I squeeze her throat at the same time my pelvis grinds against her backside. The erotic whimpers continue to fill the air, but quiet they are not.
Her pussy clamps around my dick as the television in the next room comes on, the volume loud. Fuck me. I'm getting closer to coming. My hand goes to her clit, quickly rubbing in short, fast strokes as I slam against her over and over again. "Oh . . . fuck," she says, her hand gripping onto my wrist, her head falling back. Her pussy is convulsing around my cock.
I sit back on my heels, pulling her to sit on my lap, legs spread outside of mine, and her back flush with my front. Both of our bodies are damp from sweat. Her hair is already clinging to her skin. The room feels hot, sticky. The only current sound in the room is the heavy breathing between us, but both of her hands secure around my wrists, pulling them to her breasts.
And then, without me asking her to, she begins to pump on my cock at the perfect fucking speed. "That's it, baby. Milk me."
Just like me with her, she wastes no time, using her hips to ride me; bouncing up and down as if she were on a horse in a fast trot. My hands squeeze her tits when the tug starts in my balls, and I hold her down on me when I start to come. I sweep her sweaty hair to one side, kissing the gap between her neck and shoulder, riding my orgasm with each spurt. The back of her head rests on my shoulder, and the two of us remain still. "That was amazing. I really needed that," she says.
"I guess that makes two of us," I respond. "You want me to go or stay?"
The foreign question expelling from my mouth surprises me, even drunk. I've never opted for a sleepover the first time I fuck a woman. It's just not my thing unless it becomes a convenience in a repetitive fuck buddy, still only happening on occasion and usually when drinking is involved.
She pulls off of me and turns around, standing on her knees. She wraps her arms around my neck, mine instantly finding her ass, pulling her to straddle my lap. "It's late," she says. "I'm going to leave that decision up to you."
My vision is unstable, and I'm still drunk as shit, but suddenly I see just how beautiful she really is. I'm sweating, the alcohol trying to evacuate from my system. My hands run along her spine. "I think I'm going to stay."
She smiles. And I have no fucking idea why I'm still here. I really should go back to Joel's and crash. He doesn't need to be alone or my visit may end up ending likeThe Hangover.But then she kisses me, and everything I thought before vanishes.
Chapter Five
Bryant
Iroll over on my stomach, the bed a lot softer than I remember waking up yesterday morning at Joel's. Couches with foldaway beds were not made for comfort. They feel like sleeping on bars with a sleeping bag worth of padding. A few nights on one and your back is fucked up for a while.
My head is pounding with every beat of my heart. I'm terrified to open my eyes for fear my head will explode with the light beaming through. I can't even remember the last time I had a hangover like this. Filters of light pass through my closed eyelids, causing me to squint before pulling the pillow over my head to once again consume myself in darkness. At least it's cold in here. "Fuck," I groan, my stomach rebelling against what I've fed it for the last twenty-four hours.
