“No!” I grip the counter and arch my back. Combined with the way he’s pulling at my apron, it has the ties around my neck loosening to expose my breasts.
Jonas doesn’t move away. He just grabs more fabric in his big fist, until I might as well be naked. He looks down at me and shakes his head. “If I palm you right now, I’m going to find you wet, aren’t I?”
I nibble my bottom lip. “Maybe?”
“You get off on inciting me.” He pushes me back, pinning me in place. “This isn’t going to end the way you want.”
“Isn’t it?” I grin.
He shakes his head slowly. “What am I going to do with you?” He lifts me onto the counter before I can respond. “Don’t answer that. You’re just going to piss me off.” He spears me with two fingers, but he’s not trying to get me off. No, he’s testing how wet I really am. How ready. “Just as I thought.” Jonas pulls out his fingers and shoves down his lounge pants.
I felt him. I’ve sucked him off. I’m had him inside me. The sight of him still steals my breath and sends a little thread of alarm through me. I’m all sorts of hot and bothered, but the look in his eye says this will be a punishment. “But—”
He fists his cock and presses it to my entrance. Not enough to enter me, but the threat remains all the same. “The only thing you respond to is fucking, so I’m going to fuck some obedience into you.” Still he waits.
I slowly lean back against the cabinet. Between that and his grip, I’m braced pretty solidly. I bring my legs up and hook my fingers around my thighs, holding myself open for him. “If I’ve been bad, then you should punish me, Daddy.”
He looks almost tormented for a moment before he gets himself under control. “At least you’re finally admitting that you’re not the good girl you pretend to be.” He pushes forward a little, easing the head of his massive cock inside me. “No good girl has a pussy so eager to be fucked. Look at the way you take me.”
I obey, looking down my body to watch him work himself into me. His cock spreads me vulgarly, each stroke disappearing a little deeper, only to reappear wet with my desire. “I like watching you fuck me,” I whisper.
“I like it, too.” The words are dark and low like a confession. “I’ll spend the rest of my life jacking to the memory of how sweet it feels to sink into your tight little cunt.”
The words force a moan out of me. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s decided I’ve been prepared enough. Jonas slams into me, sheathing himself to the hilt. I tighten my hold on my thighs in response, which only serves to spread me wider for him.
“I like you like this. Holding yourself open for me. Letting me do anything I want to you.” He fucks me in rough strokes, driving deeper and deeper yet. He shifts the fist holding the apron to the side down, pulling the ties around my neck free, so he that he press his thumb to my clit. “Now be a good little slut and come around my cock.”
I don’t have a chance in hell of denying him. I don’t want to deny him. With each slide of his thumb, with each rough stroke of his cock inside me, I barrel closer and closer to oblivion. My whole body goes tight and hot and then I’m doing exactly as he demands, orgasming hard enough that I start to slam back into the cabinets. Jonas anticipates me, so my head hits the palm of his free hand instead of the wood. And then his mouth is on mine, claiming me here just like he’s claiming my pussy. He keeps fucking me, keeps kissing me, until another orgasm starts to build in the aftermath of the first. I want to touch him, but I can’t quite make my hands obey. It’s like they’re fused to my thighs, my body unable to do anything but take what he gives me.
This time, when I come, I propel him under too. He curses against my tongue and then he’s driving into me, grinding his way through his own orgasm. Jonas gentles his kiss as he keeps pumping into me almost idly. Finally, he shifts to press his forehead to mine. “This is only going to encourage bad behavior.”
I smile against his lips. “Maybe.”
“Thought so.” He eases out of me and helps me off the counter. My legs feel a little like all my bones have turned to mush, but I manage to keep my feet. Barely.
The kitchen is a mess. There’s flour everywhere. The counters, the cabinets, the floor. All over me and Jonas. I look at us and start laughing. “Sorry.”