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He’s been thinking about this moment every spare second for the last few weeks. Knowing she was waiting for him made the interview the longest of his fucking life. He’s played this entire scene out in his mind too many times to count.
He looks at her reflection in the mirror in front of them and has to take a few breaths to calm down before he ends this too fast. Her dark hair is hanging over her shoulders, spilling over her breasts onto the dressing table. He runs his thumb over her lips and meets her eyes in the reflection.
‘Look at me and don’t make a fucking sound.’ He rams his hips towards her, burying himself as far as he can go. Chloe drops her head to the table to stifle her scream but he reaches around and lifts her head up. He locks eyes with her in the reflection as he pulls out then rams in again, harder this time.
He slips his hand around her hips and covers his thumb in her juices. ‘Open your mouth.’ He watches as she sucks him clean and the small semblance of control he had disappears. The dressing table groans with each thrust of his hips but he couldn’t give a fuck if he destroys the whole room. They’ve got six weeks to make up for. If he wasn’t on stage tonight his dick wouldn’t be leaving her pussy for the next few hours.
Her eyes don’t move from his as his thrusts turn more desperate, more frantic as the need builds.
‘Fuck me, Tate. Please.’
Her words hit him like a shock to his dick, and the familiar tingle builds at the base of his spine. He drops his hand to circle her clit with his thumb then does exactly as she demanded. He fucks her until they both collapse onto the dressing table, sweating, exhausted, and breathless.
∞
Tate keeps hold of her as they try to catch their breath. He rests his head between her shoulder blades with one thick arm braced on either side of her.
‘Fuck me, Tate?’ he mumbles into her shoulder.
She smiles lazily up at his reflection as he lifts his head. ‘And you absolutely did. Thank you. Can you get off me now?’
‘Not sure I can move. I’m kind of fucked myself.’ He pushes off the dressing table and wraps his arms around her, holding her against his chest. He wipes sweat soaked hair back from her forehead. ‘And for the record, you can demand I fuck you whenever you want.’
‘Not quite sure where that come from.’
‘Yeah well, you can let it out again. It was such a turn on.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
He looks up as someone bangs loudly on the door. ‘Tate! You finished yet?’
‘Fuck off, Gregg!’
‘We need you for a sound check in ten minutes.’
‘All right!’
‘As in on stage. Ideally dressed.’
‘I heard you. Now fuck off!’
‘Will do. Hi, Chloe.’
She laughs into Tate’s shoulder. ‘Hi, Gregg.’
Tate shakes his head as Gregg laughs and bangs once more on the door before walking away. ‘Sorry about him. He’s completely un-trainable. I suppose I better grab a shower.’
‘I suppose you better.’ He doesn’t make a move to let her go. ‘I thought you were going to have a shower.’
‘I kind of want to go again.’
She squirms to get out of his arms, but it’s like trying to move a tank. ‘Get off me you oaf. If you’re late Gregg will burst in and I’m not keen on that, thanks all the same.’
‘Fine. But as soon as the show is finished, we’re picking this up again.’
‘No arguments there. I really like the piercing by the way.’
He smiles widely at her. ‘Thought you would. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. Fucking thing is driving me crazy already. I’ll show you exactly how much later.’
