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Just feeling the muscles beneath my hands has me ready to beg him to fuck me. Knowing what it feels like when his chest is against my back, meeting my own, his heart racing with the same speed that he's slamming into me. I push again, but like last time, he doesn't move an inch, instead looking down to where my hands are still on him. I push him as hard as I can this time, but the only movement is his hand lowering from my jaw to my neck, squeezing, lifting me until I'm on the tips of my toes. My own hands instinctively go to my throat to try to pry his hands off. I can't breathe. I'm panicking. I'm turned on. I'm hot. I can feel the wetness coating my thighs, and he hasn't even touched my pussy yet.
"You little bitch," he snaps, giving me a shake.
My wide, now bulging eyes stare at him. He's never choked me this bad. I've never been this fucking aroused. Desire and lust feel like live things inside of me, snaking through my veins, filling me, flooding me, coiling inside me, ready to find any reason to release. Jackson steps forward, bringing his own thigh between both of mine. The towel is between us, but even that doesn't stop me from damn near moaning at the contact.
"You show me your bras and panties, acting like some whore, and then try and tell me no when I come to take exactly what you know you've been offering? You don't fucking get that choice now, sweetheart."
"You're..." I wheeze. He loosens his hand just a little, bringing his face closer to mine.
"Go on. Finish whatever lie you were going to say. Because anything less than you saying you want me to put my cock in every single one of your holes will be a lie."
"You're fucking crazy. You're just a sick bastard. Do you go around pushing yourself on everything with a pussy and a pulse, or do you have some type of God damn self-control?"
I shove against him with all my force, and he finally stumbles back. Raising my hand, I step forward, ready to slap him, ready to give him a sting I desperately want him to return. But he catches my hand, uses his grip on my wrist to pull me forward until I'm crashing into his chest. His eyes bore into mine, a wildness there, mixed with lust, mixed with dominance.
"Control?" He chuckles bitterly. "Control? I'll show you control."
He pushes me until I'm against the dresser again, a groan leaving me at the pain of the impact this time. Then his thigh is right back where it was, as if my shoving him away moments ago was all for nothing, because look at us now. Right back where we were, my back to the dresser, his thigh putting pressure againstmy clit that's making it hard to remember to pretend not to like every single thing he's doing. All I need is his hand on my neck again, and I might come just like this, without a single touch, without a single inch of his cock inside of me.
And just to push him, getting him closer to feeling the need to have absolute control over me, I begin fighting again. I try to bring my knee up, aiming for his balls, but he reaches down and stops it just in time.
"Tsk, tsk. If you get rough with me, I'll have to get rough with you. Do we want that, pretty girl?" He reaches between us, begins undoing the knot holding my towel closed. I hurry to grip it in my fist, refusing to allow him to loosen it any farther. He scoffs before continuing. "If you give me what I want without a fight, I'll fuck you and go. I might even consider not coming inside of you. But if you make me have to take it from you…" He roughly rips the towel out of my grip and tosses it to the floor, exposing me. He looks down, licks his lips, then meets my eyes again. "I will make sure everything I do with your body hurts. Everything."
A muscle in his jaw ticks, waiting for me to decide, if I want it gentle or rough. If I want him to hold my hands down while he forcing himself on me, or hold me down by my throat while he forces me to take his cock. As if he doesn't already know which I want. Rough. Always rough.
I harshly push his hand away, hissing, "Don't you dare touch me."
His eyes flare with excitement at my choice. "You can't imagine the things I'd dare to do to you."
"You have no right to touch..." The words strain out of me from the effort of me trying to move him back as he tries to get his hand between my thighs. "Me!"
"I don't need the right." His hand wins the fight, slipping between my thighs, quickly sliding past my clit, through my lips, to my opening. "I take what I want."
And he drives two fingers into me. I freeze as the gasp leaves my mouth. His eyes stare into mine, demanding I let him see my reaction, the desire in my gaze, the shuddering breath that leaves me, the pleasure that makes me close my eyes. Then his hand is moving, and I can feel everything. How easily my wetness makes it for his fingers to slide in and out of me, his palm against my clit, his fingers hooking inside of me.
"Get," I breathe. "Away," I hiss. "From me," I shout.
I slap him, and his head whips to the side. The breath catches in my chest as I watch him stay that way, head turned, fingers not moving inside of me, body utterly, frighteningly still. His head begins to move, slowly, so slowly until he's facing me again. And in those gray eyes, is a wild excitement, feral lust, and an almost maniacal glee. God, he loves this. And so do I.
Only out of the corner of my eye do I see something coming toward my face, and by the time I realize it's his hand, it's too late. The back of his hand crashes into my face, and I fly to the side with the force of it. My scream seems to echo through the room as I crumble to the floor. I don’t even have time to raise my hand to my throbbing, aching cheek before he's on me. His hands claw at me, roughly grabbing my breasts before they go to my thighs, wretching them apart so he can settle between them.
"No, no," I protest, scrambling to get the towel and cover myself again. "Don't you fucking touch me."
One hand shoots to my throat, stilling me with how tightly he grips it. "Why shouldn't I? When how wet you just were tells me you want my hands all over you. So slick I didn't even have to tryand finger fuck you. Just slid right in, almost like you... wanted it."
Only my eyes are able to cast down when I feel him moving between my thighs, and it's to find his other hand working to get his pants undone, his zipper down.
"No, please. Don't do this. Please. I'll never tease you again."
"Too late for that."
He pushes his pants and boxer briefs down, my struggle against him doing nothing to stop him from taking his cock in his hand, pumping it as he moves lower so he can slide it through my wetness until he's at my opening. He pushes in just a little bit, not nearly enough. But doesn't give me anymore, even though I'm sure he can feel me tightening around him, my pussy, my body, hell, all of me, begging for more. He only leans forward, bringing his face closer to mine.
"You're the reason I'm hard as a fucking rock, so you're gonna take care of it. You, and this tight pussy."
God, finally, finally, he begins pushing in. The deep sigh that leaves me at him stretching me, at a feeling I thought I would never feel with him again, is echoed by him making the same sound. My hands are at his shoulders, and although I meant to push him away, instead I find my fingers curling, nails digging into his skin, trying to pull him closer. Then he chuckles, no, snickers.
"Yeah, a tease and a whore. Look at you."
