He wastes no time in lining his cock up with my entrance and pushing in. He’s thick and long, filling me. Stretching me. When he grips the front of my thighs to yank my ass against him, thrusting into the hilt, I cry out at the unexpected pleasure.
He stays in deep to let me adjust, groaning his own satisfaction. “You okay, doll?”
“So good,” I manage to pant.
He withdraws and repeats the action, his loins slapping against my ass. He picks up speed. “Yeah, I knew you’d be a hot fuck.” His dirty talk revs my engine, the deep rumble turning my insides to liquid heat. “You’re a perfect, sexy, willing little fuck doll, aren’t you?”
I can’t answer, not that I think he expects me to. I suddenly find myself not just wanting and willing but rather desperate to be exactly that–his willing little fuck doll. To have this man as my boss in bed. My sugar daddy. Not for the money. For this.
The pleasure. The sense of surrender to someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. How he wants it. How to make it good for me. His rough domination stokes my internal fire hotter.
I swear the entire room has caught fire. I’ve never felt so abandoned. So willingly out of control. It’s a hard fuck–aggressive, pounding–and yet my body opens like a flower to him, not just willing to give whatever he demands but deriving intense pleasure from those demands.
Orgasming with him seems to be a non-issue. I’m already close to a second one, about to break, when he pulls out. “Flip over,” he commands gruffly.
I laugh softly, not used to being ordered around during sex. I had no idea it would be such a turn-on. My role here is a sexual servant–which is somehow freeing. All the repression I’ve had in the past, the performance anxiety about doing it right, or whether I look good naked, or whatever the stupid thoughts going around in my head were–they’re all gone.
Bobby’s in charge. All I have to do is surrender to him.
Still, I lodge my complaint. “I was just about to come.”
“I know.”
Cocky bastard. The two simple words shoot me into a dizzying state of lust. He knew. He guaranteed my satisfaction back at the club, and despite what seemed like a self-centered encounter, heispaying attention. My limbs tremble as I turn around, climbing further up the bed to lie on my belly. He grabs my thighs and yanks me back toward him, my feet finding the floor in a spread eagle, my ass presented to him. A cry of need erupts as he feeds his hard cock into my slick channel and pumps. When he grasps both my shoulders to brace me for his pounding, I lose control. “Oh, God, oh yes, please!” I sob into the bedcovers.
“Not yet,cara mia. Wait for permission.”
Wait…what?
“You don’t come until I tell you.”
There’s that bossy tone again. His cocky dictates. I shouldn’t love it so much, but I do. It’s like he knows some secret about sex or this encounter that I don’t. He has a plan. He’s the master of the scene.
I breathe hard, trying to hold off the impending orgasm that shimmers and simmers right at the brink.
“Please?” I pant. I swear I don’t think I can hold it off any longer.
He continues slamming into me, his balls swinging to tap my clit, the head of his cock driving deep.
“Now,bambina. Come now, sweetheart.”
The moment he commands it, I come.
“Yeah!” he roars, slamming his cock deep inside me as he comes. My pussy squeezes around his cock, as wave after wave of release flows through me.
My mind goes blank, and I enjoy the sensation of complete surrender and satisfaction.
After a few moments, Bobby brings me back, easing out of me and murmuring, “Thank you, Lexi. That was hot.” He strokes his hand down the length of my back, his touch light.
“Mmm,” I moan, too relaxed to move.
He kisses my nape and moves away. I float again until the sensation of a warm washcloth between my thighs brings me back to the moment. I’m surprised at the gesture, but maybe I shouldn’t be.
Despite his roughness in bed, Bobby is the caretaking type. He took care of me at the club, and he took care of me here. Even during the sex, he was an extremely sensitive lover, completely in tune with me. I wonder what he would’ve done if he’d found me dry and tense, as sometimes happens when I get nervous about sex. Would he have taken the time to learn how to unlock my secrets as he claimed? It seems like he already knows them because he just revealed something about me I hadn’t known: I like being used. Commanded.
Maybe Gina was right all along. A sugar daddy is exactly what I need.
“Kick off your shoes now,” he murmurs and pulls down the covers of the bed.