I smooth my palms over his sides and scrape my nails over his hips, my fingers dipping under the waistband of his pants. I’m dizzy with need, and his dick hard in his boxers as his hips thrust upward without permission, seeking some form of release. My hands wrap around his hips in a firm grip and hold him down, preventing him from moving again as I hover over him. I look down at him, my eyes dark with lust.
“I want to taste all of you,” I say, and he shivers at the promise in my voice. “I’m going to suck every bit of your cum out of you, and then I’m going to make you hard all over again so I can ride you hard.”
His hands tighten on my shoulders as he breathes out a ragged breath.
“Don’t just talk about it,” he says. “Fucking do it.”
I fall to my knees. I know we’re lost, now. There’s no going back from this, where we’re both sober and angry, yet still manage to drag ourselves together. So I close my eyes as my fingers find the zipper on his pants and surrender to the inevitable.
I really am the worst.
But, for now, I have Grant in front of me, his musky smell making my head spin, his heated skin like a furnace in front of me. I tug the zipper down and flick open the button. His penis is straining against the material of his boxers, a large, wet patch leaking on the front. I tug impatiently at the hem of his pants.
“Lift your hips,” I say.
He does as I ask, and I pull both the pants and boxers down. I try to do it slowly, running my hands down his legs, but I’m too impatient now. I want to taste him, to hold his throbbing dick in my hand and know that I’m the one who has done this to him.
It’s unfairly possessive. I gave up all rights to Grant long ago. But I can’t help the thrill that runs through me as his penis springs free, standing hard and tall, to know that I still have such an effect on him.
I lean over him and blow lightly on his penis. It shudders and his hips jerk upward, out of my hold.
“How badly do you need me to touch you, Grant?” I ask, my voice low.
He groans and leans his head back, his eyes fluttering closed.
“Fuck,” he moans. “Just fucking touch me already.”
I reach out and wrap my hand around his penis, giving it a light tug, caressing it gently with my fingers. He groans wordlessy, overwhelmed by even the simple touch, and it lights a fire in me that tightens my hand to grip him firmly. I run my fingers over the tip, smearing the leakage there over his hardened skin. He chokes on a gasp, his hips bucking up once more.
“Fuck!” he groans.
His body is shuddering. He’s completely falling apart under my touch, and that satisfies a dark, inner need that wanted to know if there was still a part of him that belonged to me. I’m so selfish, but I can’t help but want to be forever branded in his mind.
But I still want more. I breathe him in and take my hand off him, ignoring the choked protest that he makes. I look up, meeting his eyes for a moment, seeing the hazy lust that is dominating his expression, before leaning down and taking him into my mouth.
I can taste his sweaty skin and the salty liquid of his pre-release. I swirl my tongue around the tip of his penis, and he writhes beneath me. I reach out and grip his hips so he can’t thrust them upwards, and hollow my cheeks that I can go down further on him, his dick sliding past my jaw and behind the roof of my mouth. I swallow around him and he curses above me, the vibrations overwhelming him.
“Fuck, more, do that again,” he pants.
I swallow again and he groans deeply. I can’t see much of him from this angle, but I can see the way his stomach heaves and his legs tremble as they fall further apart, allowing me to settle more comfortably between them. I dig my nails into the skin of his hips, distantly mindful of the fact that the crescent marks would be there for some time, just like the hickey that I sucked onto his neck. He’ll see all those marks later tonight, and even tomorrow morning, and know that I put them there.
That shouldn’t please me as much as it does.
I suck hard on his dick, trying to tempt him closer to his orgasm, and swirl my tongue around the length. His skin is sweaty and I’m finding it hard to keep my grip on his hips. He groans again and I laugh around him. He swears at the feeling of the vibrations and his entire body jerks. Without any warning, other than a sudden twitch of his penis, his orgasm hits. I swallow it down, keeping my lips wrapped around him until his penis is flaccid in my mouth. I breathe in deeply through my mouth, waiting as some of Grant’s trembles begin to subside.
And then I give his penis a hard suck.
“Fuck!” Grant exclaims, his entire body jolting at the sensation. “What…?”
I look up at him, and he groans, no doubt remembering my promise to draw an orgasm from him before making him hard all over again, just so I can ride him. He chokes on a gasp as I suck again, and his dick twitches in my mouth, reluctantly pulling to attention. I swallow around him and I feel blood rushing to it. When it stands hard again, I finally pull away, satisfied to see how quickly I could make him hard once more.
I’m still clothed, but that’s easily remedied. I make quick work of my shirt and skirt, throwing them away hurriedly. I can feel Grant’s eyes on me, watching as I take my clothes off, and the weight of his gaze heavy and hot. Slowly, I raise my eyes to meet his and reach behind myself to unclip my bra. I allow it to fall to the ground, and Grant’s eyes flick over me, taking in my body. Had he watched me like this last night? I don’t remember; last night had been rushed and furious, all about touch and sensation. Today is just as angry and fierce, but I can’t help but pause to feel the weight of his eyes, to see the way he’s looking at me.
“I want you to fuck me,” I say, the words slipping out of me. “I want to feel you in me. I’m going to ride you hard, and I want you to fuck me as I do.”
He shudders as I stand and slowly slip my panties off, allowing them to drop to the ground. We’re both naked now, bare in front of each other. For the first time, I feel slightly vulnerable. What’s going to happen after this? I don’t want to think about the future right now, but this is the second time we’ve had sex in as many days. Aren’t we going to need to discuss this? Do I even want to? After all, avoiding that conversation is why I ran away last night.
But I can’t avoid it now. Not if Grant and I are going to somehow make something work for Owen.