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“Clean these,” I order, and she does, running her tongue over each knuckle, lapping at me with her eyes locked to mine.
Such a fucking good girl. She hasn’t even complained that I haven’t finished her off yet.
“Go over to my bed,” I say, pointing to the tiny twin bed with dark-blue sheets that never got any action. But Jesus, if I had known then what I know now about height and angles and depth, I would have found any way to use it to my advantage.
Instead, I just get to profit from it fifteen years later.
She walks over, lips red from mine, eyes wide and glazed with lust.
“Hands to the bed, knees on the edge. Spread for your man,” I say and watch to see what she does with that information. She hikes up her skirt, moving to kneel on the edge of the bed and sliding the fabric up until it settles, bunched on her lower back before her hands move to the mattress. She arches her back, sliding her hands forward just a bit before looking back at me.
Fucking magnificent.
My own hands move to my shorts, unbuttoning the tab and shoving them and my boxers down, just enough so my cock bobs out.
This is going to be quick.
Quick and messy but exactly what I need right now.
But first.
I move until I’m on my knees, and I put both hands to her bare ass. The visual is fucking glorious: tanned, tattooed skin on her own, fair and unmarked.
The perfect example of how our opposites fit perfectly.
God, I want to keep her. Keep this.
Her hips move, trying to get something, anything, and my thumbs move to either side of her, pulling her apart until her wet pussy is exposed to the air. Her breath hitches, a small moan or plea leaving her lips, and her ass moves back to get . . . more.
One hand leaves her ass, pulling back and slapping hard.
“Stay still or you’ll never get what you want, Lola.” A moan again, deeper this time, but her hips stop moving. ”Good girl,” I murmur, hand returning to part her. “Head down, baby.” Her head moves to the mattress, her ass moving higher with the change in position.
I can’t resist.
I run my tongue over her, tasting every inch of what is rightfully mine. She moans deep into the comforter but doesn’t move.
That deserves a reward, I think.
Standing, I stroke my cock, groaning lightly at that simple movement. Her head starts to move, wanting to see—my girl loves to see this—before she remembers her instructions and stays put.
“Your man’s going to fuck you hard, Lola. Clearly, I need to remind you who you belong to, who gets to put his hands on you.” My hand comes down, smacking her again, and I savor the noise she makes and the way her fair skin retains the shape of my hand on her skin. “Do you understand?”
She moans but stays still all the same.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, Ben, I understand.” I rub my cock down her slit, getting the head wet, loving that there’s never anything between us, that I always get to feel her wet cunt on my cock.
“Are you going to tease me again?” I notch the head but remain there.
Torture.
Pure fucking torture.
“I wasn’t—” She can’t resist. Can’t resist the game, the arguing, the fighting.
I fucking love it.
