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“I said, what the fuck was that?”
She doesn’t play games.
Doesn’t pretend she doesn’t know what I mean.
That’s what I like about her best. She might mess with me, tease me, drive me wild and annoy the fuck out of me, but she never plays games the way other women do.
“Are you jealous?” Her words are low, gravely.
“Did you want me to be?”
“Honestly?” She blinks then licks her lips. “A little.” I groan. Every moment with this woman is an aphrodisiac, even when she’s driving me wild.
“Don’t play that game with me, babe.”
“I’m not playing games,” she says.
“You are. You’re playing games, looking to make me jealous, drive me insane. But guess what, Lola? It worked.” My knee moves, pushing hers out, her dress creeping up her legs with the help of my hand on her hip, and then it settles between her legs. “I’m wild for you, and I need to know you’re mine.” Her breathing is heavy, and without saying a thing, she moves, her weight going to my thigh as her head is pressed to mine. She moves in a small circle, tentatively, then a low, breathy moan falls from her lips.
“That’s it, baby. Grind yourself on my leg.” One of the hands caging her moves to her full hips, helping her, guiding her as she starts to grind on me, more moans coming. “When you were flirting with him, is this what you wanted? Chris to take you somewhere, pin you to a wall, make you come?”
“No.”
“Did you want him to slip his hand up your pretty dress, find out there are no panties there? To touch your wet pussy?”
“No, Ben.” She continues her grinding, moaning lightly. I’m wearing shorts, and I feel how wet she is on my thigh with how we're positioned.
“Did you want him to fuck you, slap your ass when he’s deep inside? Did you want him to beat up your pretty pussy, baby?” The hand on the wall moves to circle her throat, pressing on the sides with just enough pressure to restrict her air and blood flow.
Her eyes go wide, but her bottom lip gets fuller, her grinding more frantic.
She shakes her head against the door.
“Did you want him to eat you? Did you want him to choke you, to hold you down while you shake, coming on his cock?”
Another head shake.
“Why, Lola?”
But she can’t answer, the pleasure too high, my hand too restrictive.
I stop, moving my leg from between hers, removing any friction.
Her head shakes, frantic.
I move my hand, and she breathes in deep and moans deeper as my hand on her hip moves, going under her skirt and thrusting three fingers in, not giving her time to adjust. I slam them in and her head falls back with a moan.
“Whose pussy is this, Lola?” I growl in her ear.
An unintelligible moan comes out, but it’s not what I want to hear.
“Tell me who owns you.” Another press of my fingers, another grind of her cunt trying to get more.
“You do,” she says, whisper soft beneath a moan.
That will do for now.
I remove my fingers, stepping back and putting them into her mouth.
