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The bottle gets placed back down again, and I lean on the door. “Do you still want to fuck after that admission? I’m not promising anything remotely gentle.”
“Can’t help, or won’t?” she asks, sharp as a razor.
I half-smile and watch her closing in on me. She’s got it all. Smoking hot body, a sharp mind guiding her. And those lips that kissed me? They’re all I’m thinking about at the moment. I want them around my cock, want her tongue lapping cum from her lips.
She licks them and uses that body she’s been training, letting it sway and glide the closer she gets. “Why don’t you answer that afterwards?” she says, goading me.
I’m like a fucking child being tempted.
Always am for a good dancer.
And this one just learnt all the moves in a matter of days.
Her hand rests gently on my chest as the other one pushes my jacket off my shoulders. Buttons get popped on my shirt, and then I’m doing the fucking stupid thing of following her over to a chair she pulls into the middle of the room. It’s all her as she uses her new skills. The dusty old room disappears, and the sordid thoughts that might come for her after this disperse. Just me and her and this dance she’s doing.
She gets her backside on my cock, grinds it about good and hard. Clothes get tossed seductively as she keeps easing through a routine she’s learned, despite the pain her foot must be in. It’s enough for me to be rubbing my dick under the pressure she’s causing, and eventually, it gets too much for me to bear without touching her.
I grab her and haul her onto my lap, letting my mouth get a good taste of what she’s offering. It’s just as sweet as it was in the bathroom, just as fucking seductive and mesmerising. I push her hand down to my cock, wait for her to get it out so I can watch her mouth around it. She’s straight on it like the good girl I knew she’d be. Firm grip, solid fucking strokes.
Groaning, I let my head tip back, desperate breaths trying to stave off what’s coming. She doesn’t let me calm. She gets off me, spreads my legs wider so she can get between my knees, and gets on with swallowing me down in long, deep moves.
I’m transfixed with the look of it, more fucking desperate than I’ve ever been to let go and claim something as my own. It’s only minutes before I’m standing and picking her up to drop her on the old sofa. She yelps at the pressure of my hands, panics for a second, then moans as I get my fingers where they’ve been desperate to be.
Smooth, wet.
Tension grips my fingers inside her, letting me know exactly how right she’s going to feel around my dick.
She’s coming first, though.
I watch her through the beginning of it. Embed the image of her mouth panting, her body twisting, her long, lean legs squirming around my arm.
“Please, Reed,” she says, taking her hand down to grip my wrist. She pulls on it, increases the pressure of my palm on her clit until she’s moaning so loud I have to smother her mouth.
“Jackson, not Reed. Make sure you remember it.”
Her eyes widen the second I shift her sideways and lift her leg back. I want to be inside her when she comes. I need that. I want to feel that around my cock, sense it on me rather than watch it.
I shift my trousers lower, get myself in real close until we’re mouth to mouth again, then shove with everything I’ve got. She hisses under my hand, mutters in that language I like hearing from her lips. And then it turns into a fucking frenzy.
I fuck, she moans.
I fuck harder, and she scratches at my chest like it’s a lifeline for her. It is, and if she keeps pleasing me like this, if she keeps gripping my cock like a goddess and milking this cum from me, she might get an answer she likes at the end.
I flip her and watch her arse rise towards my face. It makes me run my tongue through her folds, bite at something I’ve denied myself just for the sheer hell of it. She moans again at that, bucks and keeps shoving herself back in my face. My fingers go in again, and I look at the whole vision in some fever of rage and possession.
More fucking happens. Fucking to the point where I can’t breathe and she’s almost crying under my assault. I don’t care. My hand’s clamped over her mouth so her screams can’t be heard. And my dick is drilling deep and fucking hard with every drive she takes. It all ends like a bomb detonating inside me, making me pull her face back to mine so I can kiss those lips again.
The frenzy eventually subsides, leaving me with a languid sense of ownership. I chuckle lightly at the thought of it, amused that a woman – this woman – might make me go against the grain I’ve cut for myself. And then I notice the tape on her foot. It reminds me of the branding, of the fact that she is not mine at all.
She moves, as I do, until she’s back on my lap. “That must hurt,” I state. I just hold her there, fingers idly playing with her pussy so I can feel my cum inside her.
“It does,” she says. I end up smearing cum up her stomach and across her breasts in a display of possession. I don’t own her, though, do I? They do, and after them, someone else will.
And I’m unsure what the hell I do now.
She said about answering a question afterwards. Can’t or won’t, she said. I don’t have answers for anything yet. Certainly not after that fuck.
“Talk, Naja,” I mutter, listening to her easing breaths.
