“Your fucking turn,” he growled, and he was rough, really rough. I squealed as he pushed inside, but I was already angling up for him, already wanting him.
“Yes! Oh fuck, yes! Fuck me!”
“Dirty. Fucking. Bitch.” His voice was hoarse and vicious, angry like his thrusts.
“More!” I screamed. “Give it to me, Andy, just fucking give it to me! Ow! Fucking hell! Yes!”
He was in deep, slapping my ass with his balls, low grunts of lust and frustration and need. He pulled my hair from its bun, wrapped it around his fist until it hurt, but I didn’t care. He twisted my neck, made me look at him. “Kiss me,” he snarled. “Show me how fucking grateful you are. You owe me, Faye, you fucking owe me.”
I was grateful, and my kiss was hot and wet. He consumed me, possessed me, invading my mouth with the same venom he was invading my sore fucking asshole. I spread my knees wide, and the pillows I’d propped him up on found the spot. He humped away on me and I humped away on that cushion and between us we lost it. It was an angry orgasm on both parts, angry and loud and fucking painful.
“You drive me insane,” he hissed. “You’refucking insane.”
He spilled his load with a string of obscenities that rolled into one long exclamation, and then he collapsed, hot and sweaty against my back. I caught my breath, and I was smiling. I reached up behind me to smooth his hair.
“Hey,” I said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He rolled away and my stomach lurched to find he wasn’t smiling back. He pressed his fingers between his legs, grimacing as they squelched. “I’m not sure what the fuck to make of that.”
“You liked it,” I insisted. “Andy, you just came like a fucking bullock on steroids.”
“I know what happened, Faye. I’m just not sure what I think of it. Jesus, you made a dirty little fuck toy out of me.”
I smiled. “That’s what I’m talking about. Giving yourself up.”
“I’m not sure that’s what I want.” He dug around in the bedside cabinet until he found some tissues, then mopped himself clean. “I took it, like you wanted, but this still isn’t me.”
“It is you.” My face burned. “You’re just on the come down.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“I feel like my fucking asshole is falling out.”
“Nice.”
“Well, I do,” he snarled. “I’m not a fucking archaeological dig, Faye, you could have gone fucking easy.”
“Sorry.” I did feel sorry, too. I’d gone all in, carried away, losing myself in the moment and his higher than expected limitations. “I’ll go.”
“Go where?”
“To my room,” I said. “I mean the other room.”
His eyes were angry again, dark. “Is that what you want?”
I shrugged. “Probably for the best.”
“True to form, at least. Bailing when things get a bit awkward. Feeling the pressure now? All getting a bit tough for you?”
“No. I just thought…”
“Thought what? Thought that because you went hell for leather on my ass I’d want you out? It doesn’t work like that, Faye,I’mnot that fucking fickle.” He pulled the covers in some kind of order. “Get in. You’re fucking staying.”
I didn’t argue, squirming as his slippery cock pressed itself against my sore ass. He was still pulsing, still winding down. “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Shut up, let’s go to sleep.” He got the light, and plunged us into darkness, and even though he was angry his arms still snaked around my waist and pulled me tight. It felt nice.