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"So I could fuck you on this washing machine."
"Jackson."
"Charlotte, either turn around or sit on the washing machine. Either way, I want your thighs spread."
"We don't have time," I object.
"I'm sure I can have you coming long before anyone comes looking for us."
"They'll hear us."
His hand comes to my throat, squeezing, pulling up, craning my neck until I have to stand on the tips of my toes.
"Then I guess you better be quiet."
Then he's kissing me while his free hand slides into my leggings, then into my panties. My moan flows from my mouth to his as he begins rubbing my clit. His finger moves on me the same way that his tongue moves on mine, wild and frenzied. His hand leaves my throat and I drop back to my feet, breaking our kiss and letting out a gasp as he pinches my clit between his finger and thumb.
"If you can't be quiet," he pants, "I'll have to find something for your mouth to do."
I whimper at just the thought of him forcing me to my knees in here, fucking my mouth as my head stays pinned to the washing machine. Then a groan leaves me at the loss of his finger. He slides his hand out of my panties to bring it to my waist, the other hand landing on the other side, and then they're pushingmy leggings and panties down. I only get one leg out before he's turning me around, bending me over the washing machine.
It's damn near freezing against my skin, the edge of it digging into my hips, but God, I don't care as I feel him lining himself up behind me. He pushes on my lower back, making me arch more, my ass higher in the air, and then he's thrusting into me. It's not any less painful with him sliding in slow. I stretch around him, hissing at the feeling of him filling me more and more until his groin is against my ass, and he's groaning behind me.
He leans over my back, bringing his forearm to the back of my neck. "Remember to be quiet, my pretty whore."
He keeps that arm there, holding me down, making sure I have no choice but to take it when he slides out of me and slams back in. I have to clench my lips between my teeth to keep from screaming out. He drives into me, and even though I'm doing my best to be quiet, the sounds of our bodies meeting aren't. The frantic slap will give us away if anyone's listening, but I can't find it in me to truly care as his every thrust pushes me closer and closer to giving me the bliss I haven't felt since the last time he was between my thighs.
The washing machine hits the wall with how hard he pounds into me. And all I can do is silently, well, almost silently, slam my body back into his, begging for more without words. And he gives it to me, going faster, his other hand gripping my ass cheek, spreading it so he can get impossibly deeper. I'm so close, an orgasm just out of reach. He slides into me again, hitting every nerve I need to get me to where I want, need to be, and I cry out. He slams into me viciously, as if it's a punishment for daring to make a sound. If that's what I get when I moan, then I think I'll do it again.
But before I even get a chance to, his arm is leaving my neck, going to my hair. He twists my hair in his grip and pulls back on it, making my neck strain with the force. I arch to the point of pain and then arch some more.
"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" he pants. "Or maybe you want them to hear us." He leans over, bringing his mouth to my ear, giving quick, shallow thrusts into me.
"Maybe you want them to find you bent over the washing machine like a slut."
I moan again, and he shoves two fingers into mouth. I suck on them greedily as he continues talking dirty behind me.
"Maybe you want them to see your pussy full of my cock while your ass is full of my fingers as I whisper filthy words in your ear."
The moment he says the words, I realize why he had me suck on his fingers. And no sooner do I realize that than his wet fingers are at my asshole, pushing in with no hesitation. I groan at the pain and pleasure it gives, at the new wave of arousal that rushes through me at feeling so full. My head begins to fall forward, but he quickly yanks it back, fucking me even harder, his fingers now matching his cock's speed. He doesn't even bother to contain his own groans and grunts as he works me, as my sounds become as loud as his. And then, his tongue licks the shell of my ear, and with a shiver, I'm there. I begin to scream out, but his hand lets go of my hair and clamps over my mouth. His hand follows my face down when my head drops forward with the shudder that races through me while I come.
He pulls out of me so fast, I don't even have time to fully realize it or that his hands are gone from both my mouth and ass before he's turning me to face him. His mouth crashes down on mine as he picks me up by my hips and slams me on the edge of thewashing machine. As I tilt my head, trying to get more of his lashing tongue, he settles himself between my thighs, rubbing the tip of his cock through my wetness. I arch my hips, silently begging for more, trying to get closer. He won't let me, though, hands tightening on my hips, forcing me to only take what he gives. Then he's at my opening, tempting, toying, teasing. His mouth rips away from mine, lips going to my neck. He sucks on a bite mark left from the last time we were together and the sexiness of that, the pain of that, it takes me right back to teetering on the ledge and pleading for something to make me jump off it.
"Please," I breathe.
"Spread your thighs for me."
I do, but it's not enough. He puts his hands on them, harshly pulling them farther apart.
"Keep them like this," he states. "If you close them, I stop fucking you."
I look at him with pleading eyes, because how the hell am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to concentrate on keeping my thighs apart when all I can think of is how badly I need him to make me come again right now.
But as he begins entering me, I know I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn't stop fucking me. He's doesn't give a couple of slow strokes at first this time. He slams into me again and again, making me realize just how hard it will be to actually keep my thighs apart, because all I want to do is clench them to his sides, and cling to him. So I do. I wrap my arms around his neck, cross my ankles at his back, leggings and panties still dangling from my left leg, and make sure to keep my thighs wide for him.
His fingers drag down my back, going to my ass and grabbing it tightly, making me thrust just as hard into him as he is me.I have to fight to keep my thighs apart. It should not take this much effort, but all I want is to get closer to him, to be as tight to him as I can.
"Fuck," he grunts. "Fuck."
