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His words jolt straight down to my pussy.
“I hate cuddling.”
“I don’t care. We’re compromising. Fuck now, talk later.” He tugs me against him. His erection is hard against my thigh, and when he pushes me against the wall, his body shifts. His hard cock forcefully rubs against my clit through my jeans, drawing another whimper from me.
But I’m on fire—everywhere. Tingling, burning, searing fire.
“I’m going to sink into your tight, hot cunt until you forget your own name, and I’m going to do it in about two minutes, so I hope you’re wet and ready for me.”
Holy fucking dirty talk.
He tugs my jeans down my body and I step out of them. He takes two seconds to undo his jeans, grasp my thighs, and lift me up. His fingers run along my slit, through the wetness there, and he nips my neck.
“Feel that?” he mutters. “So fucking wet. Good girl.”
He’s inside me before I can respond. Driving into me hard. Fast. Almost brutally.
His fingers dig into my butt and mine wrap in his hair. My legs are tight around his waist, my back flat against the hard wall, but I barely notice the ache of my muscles or the uncomfortableness of the wall.
His hot breath on my neck, his tight grip on me, his rough thrusts inside me—they’re what I feel.
I come hard, clamping down onto his cock, and he follows almost immediately. Both of our bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat, we hold on to each other, not moving. My body trembles and my muscles clench in a series of random spasms. But he’s steady, still, and I wouldn’t know that he was affected by his own orgasm if it weren’t for the thumping of his heart and his labored breathing.
Slowly, Tyler pulls me from the wall and carries me into the bathroom. He’s still inside me, and the rocking of his hips with his steps makes me bite down on my lip. God, it feels good.
And so do I, I realize.
But not just your after-sex good.
A freeing kind of good. Brought on by seeing him, by hearing him, by touching him.
“I wish I could apologize for that,” he says quietly, handing me some tissue, “but I’d be a fucking liar.”
I throw my tissue down the toilet after cleaning up and whip off my panties. His eyes flick to my core and back to mine. I raise my eyebrows.
“It was a surprise.”
“A good surprise?”
“It was a surprise.”
He grabs me and pulls my face up to his taking my mouth in a tender yet demanding kiss. “A good surprise?” he repeats, this time with an undercurrent of harshness.
“You’re never a good surprise.” I bite his bottom lip.
“You’re not exactly pleasant yourself, Ms. Flighty.”
I wrangle myself from his arms and narrow my eyes. “You forgot to add a bitch in there.”
“Ms. Flighty Bitch,” he corrects himself, his eyes sparkling.
I stalk from the bathroom into my room and put on some clean panties. He follows me in, and when I turn, he’s pulling his clothes off.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“We’re gonna do some of that talking shit, and we’re gonna cuddle while we do it.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I don’t cuddle.”
