TWENTY
Hendrix
Madden doesn’t walktowards me; he prowls. Swagger is what most would call it, but that definitely isn’t the case here. He’s going after what he wants, and what he wants is me. I should turn around and run, tell him no, but I can’t. No, I won’t. All I can do is hold the fuck on. He makes it to me with a quickness I’ve never seen him use before. The laid-back man is gone, and in his place is the man I got a glimpse of last night, the one who was in control of everything surrounding him, and that includes me.
One hand, that’s all it takes, cupping the cheek of my ass, and he has me up, wrapping my arms around his neck as well as my legs around his hips. Our mouths clash, full of pent-up frustration. Madden is clearly pissed off at me. That’s okay because for some stupid made-up reason in my head, I’m just as annoyed.
“Bedroom?” His lips leave mine to ask a question. My teeth bite down on his full lower lip, wanting him to keep kissing me.
“Second door on the left.” His hand goes to the back of my head, holding me in place as he takes over the kiss. Maybe me biting him only spurs him on harder because no sooner is he devouring my mouth, he’s also using the palm of his hand to press me closer to his hard cock.
“You think biting me is turning me off, trouble? It’s only going to make me pay you back more, with my hand coming down on your bare ass or maybe on your cunt.” We don’t make it to my bedroom at first, whether it’s what I’m doing with my hands gripping his shoulders, fingertips pressed deeply into them as my mouth moves from Madden’s lips to his throat, sucking and biting, body rocking against him, I don’t know. That’s why my back is to the wall, right beside my bedroom door. A few more steps, and we’d be in my bed, and maybe it’s better this way. Less mess and fewer complications along with the memories that will no doubt cloud my head even more. Madden’s muscular thighs push outwards, having my own spread even wider, his hand cups my ass, lifting me up in one solid movement. I’m still trying to wrap my head around him picking me up with one hand, like, what kind of macho man is he?
“Son of a bitch,” I moan loudly. Madden’s hand slides along the length of my rib cage, thumb sliding beneath the fabric, dangerously close to brushing the underside of my breast. It should not turn me on that much, but with the way his length is pressed against my center, feeling what he’s doing to my side, I swear the hardness and the softness meeting as one has me on the verge of coming.
“You can think I’m that all you want, Hendrix. I’ll just prove to you that I’ll be your god in worshiping this hot-as-fuck body,” Madden states, pulling my sports bra above my breasts, not all the way off as his head dips, this time not going for my mouth. His tongue laps around my nipple, where I really want him to be.
“Madden.” His name is the only thing I have enough lucidity to use. Somewhere along the way when he was talking about what he was going to do to my body, one of his hands snaked his way inside my tight cotton athletic shorts. I was doing yoga when my outside camera notified me there was someone at my door, so this is what we’re working with. The fact that I seem to be in a state of perpetual wetness when I’m around Madden or thinking about him is ridiculous. Never have I felt this way, and when his fingers meet said wetness, my core clenches waiting to feel his thick, heavy digits again.
“That’s right. Say my name,” he whispers, causing my flesh to pebble right as he wraps his lips around my nipple, pulling the tip to the roof of his mouth as he pushes two fingers inside me at the same time. My eyes close. The sensations he is currently giving me are hard to explain. It’s like lightning in the heat far enough away that you’re not worried about getting stuck until a storm comes in behind it, bringing in the clouds, the thunder, and finally the heavy downpour of rain. It’s the kind of experience that you stand outside and watch as it hits where you’re standing, and when the storm gets closer, that’s when you finally seek shelter. Only right now, Madden is my shelter, and the storm is currently inside my body.
My words are incoherent. This man can work my body up. He’s slamming his fingers in and out of me like he’s as angry as I am, the palm of his hand on my clit, and right when I’m teetering on the edge of letting go, he bites down on my nipple, getting me closer, then pulling away from one breast and moving to the other. My body would be swaying in wanton desire if he weren’t holding me up. Which only pisses me off further, especially when he pulls back, taking his fingers and mouth away from me.
“What the fuck, Madden?” I use my body, attempting to get away. Not like it helps any. His fingers that were just inside my pussy are now cupping me on the outside of my shorts. I’m cursing the fact that we aren’t naked and I can’t slide down on his cock.
“You’re not coming on my fingers again. It’ll be my cock.” My body is still wrapped around him like jellyfish against flesh. I should put a stop to this, push him away like I know would be a good idea, but he is holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, so there’s no way I can tell him no. So, I do one better. My mouth attaches to the side of his neck, sucking on the skin, hard, wanting to mark him in a more permanent way than he’s done to my body in the sense of giving me mind-blowing orgasms, whether it’s by Madden himself or when I’m alone. Yes, I’m aware this makes zero sense, but right now, I’m turning off my mind and listening to my body, even if all she’s after is a good fucking ride.
TWENTY-ONE
Madden
“You want it rough?The way you’re sucking at my neck, sweetheart, it’s like you’re staking a claim.” I fist the back of her head, keeping her pressed close to me. Meanwhile, my other hand is sliding to the front of her shorts, going after the heart of her. This woman is greedy when it comes to orgasms. The more, the better. The second my fingers graze nothing but smooth bare slickness, she goes wild, moving from one side of my neck to the other.
“Off.” She pulls away from where I’m certain now is a bite mark and pulls at my shirt from the bottom. Neither of us had the forethought to strip out of our clothes.
“You’ll lose my fingers. Pretty sure the way your cunt is tightening on them currently, that’s not what you really want. Stand up for me, Hendrix. Take those clothes of yours off, and don’t lose my fingers.”
“God, how did I not realize how bossy you are before now?” I flick her clit with my thumb, going from two fingers to three, feeling the tight fit and how she locks up. What she doesn’t do is lose my fingers, not while she takes off her shirt, giving me an unencumbered view of her tits, her pebbled nipples, skin flushed from her cheeks to her lower chest.
“Says the girl who runs away every time she gets off.” I pull my fingers out, then thrust them back in just as fast. Hendrix stops for a moment, almost as if she’s about to make a remark. Not sure if she should, because the way her body locks up, it lets me know she likes the way I’m moving my fingers, fluttering them while mimicking what I’d be doing if she were wrapped around my cock.
“Shut up and let me come.” Finally, her fingers hook into the tight fabric of her shorts, shoving them over the curve of her ass until she’s shimmying her legs. I notice it’s helping her achieve the goal she is after, and no fucking way am I going to let that happen. The next thing that would happen is her kicking me out of her place with the gift of blue balls again. Not happening.
“You’re not coming until you’re wrapped around my cock. Unbutton my pants, Hendrix.” She bends down. Since we’re still sitting on the couch, making it to the bed will have to happen next time. Even if I did ask for direction, the way she was going at me had me veering to the first available surface. Hendrix may think she’ll have the upper hand, but we’re not playing it that way. My hand that’s not fucking her cunt goes to my back pocket, grabbing my wallet to pull a condom out. Better to be prepared than unprepared, a boy scout of sorts.
“Jesus, you’re huge.” I smirk. She’s ridden the thing clothed and had to know it’s not a small package.
“Focus, sweetheart. The sooner you pull it out, the sooner my cock will be where my fingers are.” I keep working, pulsing inside of her pussy.
“Lift up.” We work together until my pants and boxer briefs are under my ass. She starts to lower her head, trying to take my cock in her mouth.
“Hendrix,” I hiss out, feeling a puff of air, and that’s when I know if I don’t take complete control of the situation, she’ll have me making her come at the same time she makes me come. I pull my fingers out of her slickness, loathing the loss of feeling the way she tightens around the digits. I’ll be going back to that. Maybe next time, I’ll use my mouth at the same time, tasting her, wanting her firm thighs squeezing the sides of my head as my tongue laps every ounce of wetness that drips out of her.
“No, no, no. Hurry, Madden, hurry,” she bemoans. I’m tearing at the condom wrapper, pissed as fuck that it’s taking me away from her pussy as much as Hendrix is. The second the lubricated latex is slid down my cock, I’m standing up and pushing her to the couch, not worried that my jeans are still half on, not taking the time to finish stripping besides my shirt that I’m currently taking off. Hendrix is lying on the couch, legs spread, fingers pulling and pinching her nipples, waiting on me, just how I want her.
I come down in between her spread thighs, hands sliding from the outside in, already aware of what I’m about to do.
“I’m going to take from you, Hendrix, take this tight cunt with my cock, fuck you so hard maybe you’ll quit running from me.” Never in my life have I met a woman so fucking scared of dinner. It’s not like I’m begging her ass to marry me right this damn minute. I’m not opposed to it, but something tells me if I even hinted at that, she’d run for the hills.