“It’d be a lot better if you’d finally fuck me, Tate.” I may be lying flat on my back, hair probably a damn mess from his hands tangling in it while he was walking us into his room, us kissing as much as we could while he directed us in here. The only time he let me go was for the both of us to strip out of our clothes in the garage. The way he watched me shimmying down my overalls, pulling my tank over my head, built-in bra at the ready, made it nice, then it was Tate’s hands that quite literally wrenched my panties off, breaking the thin strap at the side. It was worth it to hear his deep growl when he noticed the wetness that was so clearly brought on by him.
“I bet you’d like that. It’s not happening, though.” The last first time we were together, it was rushed, each of us clawing at one another with so much pent-up desire that it didn’t last nearly as long as we wanted it to. We made up for it plenty, though. It seems I’m doomed to have to wait.
“Figures. Your voodoo dick has messed with my mind for six months now. Toys don’t work, my own hand doesn’t work. Tonight was the first orgasm I was able to achieve without turning myself inside out, and now you’re going to make me wait again.” I watch as he stutters sliding his palm along the length of his cock at my admission. His hand abandons his length, muscles taught and sinewy as he prowls towards me. He moves me until I’m turned on my right side, his body straddling one half of my body as he lifts my left leg, curling it around his hip.
“You think it hasn’t been the same for me?” he responds, arching an eyebrow. His cock is lined up, ready, and if I moved my body a half inch down, he’d be inside me, finally.
“Tate, please.” My hands go to his hips, attempting to get him to move, but he doesn’t relent. Instead, he stays poised, hand going to his cock. I watch as he uses my wetness, bathing the head of his cock in it, except he still doesn’t slide in.
“Condom. Reach into the drawer but don’t lose me, Em. Want to sit right here, feeling you bare on my dick.” Of course he would stop with just the tip and then somehow manage to ask me, the woman who’s squirming all while dying with the need to have him go balls deep inside me, consequences be damned.
“You’re not being very nice to me tonight.” My attention span is short with me trying to do what he says, reaching into his nightstand drawer, making more noise and probably a mess when something starts to rattle.
“Is this being any nicer?” Tate slams all the way inside of me. I feel him before any words tumble from my lips, so deep, almost uncomfortable, yet I’ve missed him inside me, so I don’t care if there’s a tiny bit of pain. The pleasure is worth it. Of course, he doesn’t move but holds still. It’s so hard for me not to quit what I’m doing, say ‘fuck the condom’ and ask Tate to just pull out, cum all over me instead. That would probably put the kibosh on our night, though, and there’s no freaking way I’m going to let that happen.
“Tate.” I finally reach the condoms, grasping the sleeve from his nightstand drawer. He plays dirty, though. Instead of pulling out now that I’ve handed him what has to be the most annoying things in my life since I met Tate, he decides to lazily roll his hips, pulling out, then, like he has nothing but time on his hand, glides back inside me. Yes, I know the maneater herself has met her match, wants to be exclusive, doesn’t want to use condoms but still insists on not wanting a label attached to what we have. I make zero sense, I’m well aware. Sue me.
“Fuck, you’re ready to come again, aren’t you?” He grabs the condoms from my hand, ripping one of the foil packets off, using his teeth to tear it open. I mourn the moment of him pulling out, losing his length, clenching down trying to keep a hold of him longer. The only good thing that comes from this situation is watching as he rolls on the latex. It’s hot as hell, and knowing what’s going to come as soon as it’s on is even better.
“Finally.” I squirm. The head of his cock greets my pussy, and he slams inside, plundering me; that’s the only word I can think to describe it. Our eyes on each other’s. He’s deep inside me, that bite of pain each time he bottoms out, hitting my cervix, and I think it’s probably a good thing he slid a condom on because if he came inside me, there’s no doubt about it that it’d be just our luck a baby would pop out nine months later. I make a mental note to make an appointment with my doctor. Since there was no one after Tate, it wasn’t like there was a need to be on birth control. Now there’s a reason, so I’ll need to get back on it just in case.