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He slides a hand into my hair and pulls my head back so I’m looking right into his eyes. “Say that again. I fucking dare you.”
My lips part. Heart pounding, I can only watch as he pushes down his shorts to release his erection, tugs aside my knickers, and slides the tip of his erection down through my folds. No foreplay then. Wow, he’s really going for it.
Still gripping my hair, he pulls me onto my back on the table, holds my hip with a hand, and thrusts forward, burying himself deep inside me.
I arch my back and cry out, “Aaahhh…”
He leans over me and begins to give long, slow thrusts, almost pulling out each time before sliding back in right to the hilt. I daren’t look around because I’m convinced someone must be able to see us. Instead, I close my eyes to shut out the world. Immediately, though, he demands, “Open,” and I look up at him. My pulse is racing, and even though I’m trying to stay in control, he’s not making it easy.
He kisses me then, forcefully, insisting, not asking that I open my mouth, and he plunges his tongue inside, kissing me deeply while he thrusts hard. Ah, no, I can already feel the first twinges of an orgasm way off in the distance.
He lifts his head and gives a smug laugh. “Already? Wow, go on then. Squeeze your pussy around me, honey. You’re so fucking tight. Come on.”
I let my head drop back and squeeze my eyes shut. Think about something else, I urge myself… But it’s impossible. He’s too insistent, too sexy, and at that moment he changes the angle, grinding against me with each thrust, hitting me at exactly the right spot. And he knows it, the bastard—he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Sidnie…” he warns me as I bite my bottom lip, “do as you’re told.”
The orgasm hits me, and I groan as I’m overcome by five or six powerful clenches around him.
He stops moving, waiting until I’ve finished, giving a minute rocking of his hips to see me through it. When I’m done, I open my eyes and glare up at him.
He withdraws. “Good girl.”
Groaning, I flop back on the table, but he grabs my hands and pulls me up. “No rest for the wicked,” he says, and he turns me around.
“Ah… Mack…” But I already know there’s no point in protesting.
He yanks down my knickers and removes them, then puts a hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me onto my elbows on the table. After separating my legs with a knee, he moves my feet apart, slides his erection beneath me, and with one smooth thrust, he buries himself balls deep again.
“Aaahhh…” My hands clench into fists, and I rest my forehead on them. “Fuck.”
“Are you regretting your little outburst yet?” He starts moving inside me again.
I know this is all play. I’m sure if I were to say the safe word, he’d stop. But I don’t want to. I’m so turned on, I’m turning molten inside. This guy… Every time I think of him coolly scoring that last ace on the court, it nearly gives me an orgasm.
He thrusts away, setting up a steady pace, and I stifle a groan. How long can he keep going? I need to show him he’s not as in control as he thinks… but I have no idea how to do that when I’m face down on the table being screwed soundly from behind.
He’s pulled the skirt of my dress up over my hips, and I know he’s admiring my butt as he caresses it with a hand. He slows and withdraws, and I feel his fingers move down into me, gathering my moisture. Once again, he enters me. Then he slides his fingers down the base of my spine… over my tailbone… and down between the cheeks of my bottom…
“Oh fuck.” I cover my face with my hands.
He spreads the lubrication he gathered there, then licks his fingers and adds some more. I can’t stifle a groan, and I feel him give a short laugh. Then he slips his thumb down and presses against the tight muscle. Gently, he pushes the tip of his thumb inside.
I clench and groan, and he bends forward over me. “Time for orgasm number two.” He removes his thumb, licks it, then replaces it inside me.
“Oh Jesus.” I moan as he starts thrusting again, continuing to tease me with his thumb, and there’s no hope for me at all. In less than thirty seconds pleasure begins to sweep over me, and he grunts and thrusts harder, riding me all the way through my climax, and leaving me gasping and shuddering on the table.
He withdraws, pulls me up, and then lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. I give up all pretense of fighting him and crush my lips to his, and continue to kiss him as he carries me through to the kitchen.
Once we’re there, he lowers my feet to the floor and strips off my dress and underwear. Then he lifts me onto the countertop and, without a pause, pulls me to the edge and slides inside me again.
“Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you,” he demands as he begins to thrust.
“So badly,” I murmur as he kisses me. “Oh God, I want you so much…”
I’ve never been screwed like it. He takes me in so many different positions I lose count, in every room in the house, making me come over and over again, fast, slow, and everything in between, with his mouth, his fingers, and during penetration, until I’m well into double figures.
By the time we get to the bedroom, I’m exhausted and aching, completely molten inside, and desperately feeling the need to right the balance of power between us.
