“How did they normally do it to you, Delilah?” I part her legs, spreading them wide, admiring her despite the thin strip of lace-covered fabric concealing the treasure beneath it. “Face to face? From behind? Did they have you ride them so they could watch?”
When she offers nothing more strained breathing, I prompt, “That was an actual question.”
“All different ways,” she whispers. “However they wanted to.”
“How do I want to?” I muse, placing her ankles on my shoulders. “Pull up your shirt. I want to see everything.”
She presses her lips together in a thin line but does as I say, now lifting the shirt, revealing two perfect, creamy globes and their tight, pink nipples. I reach down, taking hold of them, relishing their firm smoothness. “Fucking perfect,” I groan, my cock jumping and twitching and all but fighting to be free. I run my thumbs over her nipples, sighing as I do, but she gives no response. No reaction at all, not even a shudder of distaste.
I may as well not be here.
“What is it with you?” I mutter, playing with her nipples, tweaking and pulling them, rolling them between my fingers. No reaction. “I didn’t figure you would be a cold fish.”
“I’m not.”
“Then prove it. What, you forgot how to make a man feel good?”
“I guess I’m not used to performing on demand.”
When I yank her closer, driving my cock against her mound, she gasps. “That got a reaction,” I observe, chuckling at the flush that covers her cheeks. “Is that how it has to be? You only like it when it’s a little rough?”
“I didn’t think it mattered whether or not I like it.”
That was the wrong thing to say. It sets off a reaction more intense than anything to do with my stiff, aching cock. “It doesn’t matter, but you’re supposed to pretend. Are you that out of practice?”
To my horror, I realize my cock isn’t so stiff anymore. I have this gorgeous, mostly naked woman pressed against me and I’m losing my erection. It’s her fault. Her fucking attitude. This air of superiority she puts on when there’s nobody less deserving of it. She’s superior to nobody around here.
I haven’t made that clear enough, I see. That’s on me.
Which is why, instead of playing with her tits again, I close a hand around the long, smooth column of her throat. “Don’t you know how badly I could hurt you?”
Her head jerks slightly when she tries to nod. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
“Not really.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? Or have I already seen everything there is to be afraid of?” Her eyes are wide, clear, fixed on mine. There’s a hardness in them I’d swear I’ve never seen anywhere else, not even Dad when he was at his most enraged. The man had a legendary temper, worse than mine, and was just as ready to cut off a good friend for the slightest infraction.
Even he had nothing on this woman lying in front of me with her life in my hands.
I can’t look at her anymore. I don’t want those eyes of hers boring holes into me another second. That’s why I flip her using her legs, turning her over until she’s on her stomach, her ass draped over the side of the bed.
“We’ll see about that,” I mutter before delivering a solid slap against both round cheeks. She jumps but muffles a cry of pain by pressing her mouth to the mattress.
“That’s right.” I take her by the back of the neck, holding her face down. Now she’s afraid, isn’t she? Now she bucks and fights, pounding her fists against the mattress before clawing at my arm. All it does is make me laugh while with my other hand I free myself, hard again, ready to sink deep into her whether she’s ready or not.
She yelps when I pull down her panties, using my knee to spread her legs wider. She’s dry as a desert, I find when dipping my fingers into her folds. I spit in my palm and rub it over my shaft before spitting again, this time covering her pussy lips in my saliva.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” I remind her before parting her lips with the head of my cock. She whimpers just once before I drive myself inside, spreading her, sinking deep into her tight heat. “Fuck,” I groan, closing my eyes for just a moment to savor the sensation.
Her frantic cries remind me she needs to breathe, so I let up on the pressure long enough for her to pull in a breath before holding her head down again. The way she fights against my grip only drives me on, pushing me to take her harder. To punish her soft, supple body, to invade her. She still thinks she has a chance of winning the fight. It’s better for me to convince her otherwise now.
What’s more, she’s responding to me. Getting wet, coating my cock in her juices. Like her body knows a truth she refuses to admit. I look down to find my glistening shaft plunging in and out. “Fuck, yes,” I grunt, letting her up for air before pushing her down again. Her fists grip the sheets, twisting them, but she doesn’t fight anymore.
“Getting wet for me,” I mutter, my hips jerking, my cock pumping. “So you like this after all. Or is it me? Is it my cock you can’t help but cream for?” She doesn’t respond until I squeeze the back of her neck harder than before. Her whimpers are the sweetest music, the most erotic melody.