“You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” he whispers against my ear, his lips brushing my skin. “Well, you’ve found your match, Alicia. And once I’m inside of you, you won’t be moaning … you’ll be screaming.”
The moment his last words leave his mouth, he applies more pressure with his hand, forcing me to part my legs. Still yanking on my hair, he straightens my head, my eyes locking on his. There’s a fire in his expression, an almost too violent need for dominance. It seems he is right; I’ve found my match. But I’m not one to give up.
I reach for his mouth, pressing my lips against his, but I don’t start kissing him, no. I bite his lower lip with almost enough strength to draw blood. He doesn’t complain, though. Staring into my eyes, he endures the pain, his hand firmly nestled between my thighs. He opens his hands, tangling his fingers deeper into my hair, and pins me against the wall with his body; then, pulling back slightly, a mischievous grin lights up his face.
“I can’t wait to hear you beg for my cock,” he says, certainty flickering in his eyes. Who does he think he his? I’ve never begged for a man’s cock, and I won’t start now. Even if he’s the most perfect man that has ever pinned me against a wall.
I reach for his crotch, flattening the palm of my hand against the bulging in his dress pants, and then curl my fingers harshly around the thick and long shape there.
“We’ll see about that,” I tell him, grinning back at him.
“Oh, yes. Don’t doubt that.” He leans forward then, my eyelids drooping as our lips touch. I open my mouth wide, both our tongues wrestling against each other as if they were lost in a battle for lust and survival. Kissing wildly, I take my hand out of his crotch and start untucking his crisp white shirt, my fingers tugging eagerly on the fabric. Once I’m done, I grab his belt, but he presses his body against mine so harshly that I have to let go. I place my hands on his lower back, under his shirt, and let the warmness of his skin spill onto my fingers. I open my hands, the tip of my fingers meeting the hem of his pants as I pull him into me, our bodies locked in a frenzied kiss.
Placing both his hands on my waist, he slowly hikes my dress up to my waist, the tight fabric hugging my hips. There’s a tenuous buzz under my skin, an unconscious response to the way he’s holding me. My brain is working overtime, lost in a labyrinth of imagination, trying to picture all the things Derek will do to me, or that I’ll do to him. Working in tandem with my brain, my pussy becomes even wetter, my drenched thong sticking to my skin. He brushes two of his fingers down my waist, and moving inward, runs them under my dress and over my thong.
“Someone’s very wet,” he whispers against my ear. I can’t see his face, but the way he speaks tells me that devilish grin of his is coloring his face.
As if my brain was suddenly struck by lightning, my hands dart out to his chest, and I hook my fingers on his shirt’s collar. I tug on the fabric harshly, ruining his shirt as I make the buttons pop out and scatter around the floor. The moment his shirt is open, I press the palms of my hands against his chest, closing my eyes as I feel the hard lines of his muscles under my fingertips. His torso is all hills and valleys; each muscle of his is perfection. I let my fingers trace the contour of his pectorals, and then I let them go over his washboard abs, counting the perfect rows of muscles until I finally meet the hem of his pants.
With my fingers hooked on his belt, I pull him into me, our bodies pressed as we kiss once more. I start unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, my whole body filled with anxious anticipation. With a metallic clink, I unclasp the belt, my fingers then focusing on the next task at hand: unbuttoning his pants. As fast as I can, I open each one of the buttons, his cock pressing against his boxer briefs as if it were desperate to get out. My heart starts to pound fast as his cock, still trapped by the fabric of his underwear, brushes against my knuckles. I can already feel all rationality fading away from me, all of me being guided only by base desires. Just the way I like it.
I turn my hand around, grasping his cock backhandedly and feeling his massiveness against the palm of my hand. A shiver goes up my spine as I realize that soon enough this cock will be inside of me, his thickness sliding over my wet folds and lodging itself inside of me as my naked body burns. Guided by impulse, I start moving my hand up and down, slowly flicking my wrist as I stroke his member over his underwear. I can barely think straight as my fingers trace the contour of something so perfect. Have I ever been with a man this huge? I doubt it… Oh, I seriously doubt it.
Letting go of his cock, I grab his boxer briefs by the hemline and tug them down with both hands, his pulsing cock jumping out at once. I grab it immediately, wrapping my fingers tightly around his flesh. His warmness seeps into my skin, crawling up my spine and up to my brain. I can almost feel a barrage of hormones coursing through my body, desire taking control of me. We are still kissing, our lips locked in wild embrace as I move my hand back and forth, stroking him and marveling at his size.
Pulling back from my kiss, he rests his lips against my neck, nibbling at my skin. I let a slight moan escape my fingers, my mind adrift on a sea of pleasure. My hand starts to move faster, matching the rhythm of my breathing.
“You like it, don’t you?”
he says, looking at me as if he were in absolute control. I say nothing, simply gritting my teeth as my hand keeps on working his cock. “Now imagine it in your mouth,” he continues, his voice numbing my rational mind. Almost immediately I picture myself on my knees, parting my lips so that his glans can slide inside of my mouth. My imagination pulling the strings of my body; I feel all strength leaving my legs, my knees buckling. Before I even know what I’m doing, I place both my hands on his chest and push him. He takes one step back, not a trace of surprise on him as I go down to my knees.
I grab his cock again, cupping his balls with my free hand as I stroke him. I barely blink as I take in the sight of his mast, the gleaming tip calling to me. The moment he rests his hands on my head, I’m already leaning in, my slightly parted lips adjusting to the curve of his glans. As my mouth touches his cock, I’m immediately hit by his salty and manly flavor, a cocktail of power and lust rolling over my tongue.
I open my mouth wider, allowing him to feed one inch of his cock inside of my mouth. His glans resting on top of my tongue, I suck it firmly, leaning in and making his shaft roll over my lips. I’m making a real effort, taking his entire shaft inside of me. He’s the longest I’ve ever had, and damn, it feels good. And not only is he long, he’s also thick—his cock fills my mouth in such a way that my insides clench, my pussy anticipating how devastatingly good it will feel to have him ravaging me.
Grabbing locks of hair, he starts to guide my movements, my head bobbing back and forth as his shaft takes control of my mouth. Slowly thrusting, he goes deeper each time I go forth, only easing down when the tip of his cock finally rubs the back of my throat. The moment I have all of him inside of me, I hold my position, my mouth completely filled with him. I feel it pulsing against my tongue and against the inside of my cheeks, his mast holding promises of lust and ravenous desire.
With my eyes still closed, I let his cock slide back out and then I go all in once more. I start to go as fast as I can, his member sliding in and out of my mouth at a breakneck speed. He keeps holding me by the hair, keeping my movements controlled as he thrusts slightly, literally fucking my mouth.
“If your mouth feels like this,” he says, and I open my eyes and look up at him, “I can’t imagine how your pussy will feel like.”
I take his cock out of my mouth, and grabbing it, I start stroking him while I show him the most devilish smile I can produce.
“It’ll totes feel like nothing you’ve ever had before,” I tell him, my hand never stopping. He doesn’t respond; he simply holds my gaze, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a teasing smile.
“What the hell does ‘totes’ mean?” he asks me.
I just roll my eyes. And my tongue.
He shudders.
A sudden moan tumbles out of my lips as he pulls on my hair, making me go up to my feet. I let my back hit the wall, my hands going to his chest; I slide my fingers up to his shoulders, forcing his shirt down his arms. With my eyes locked on his, I then tug at his pants and boxer briefs, sending them flying down to his ankles. He kicks off his polished shoes and steps out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor.
My eyes wander down from his, losing themselves in his perfect naked body. It’s almost a sin for a man like him to have to wear clothes; he’s a work of art, a magnificent piece of beauty and sex.
“Like what you see, huh?” he asks mockingly, noticing the way my eyes crawl all over his muscles. He yanks on my hair again, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I think I’m also going to like what’s underneath your clothes…” Without a warning, he lets go of me and places both his hands on my chest, his fingers hooked on the collar-line of my dress. He pulls violently, the fabric ripping apart with a quick and dirty sound, and doesn’t stop until my chest is bare. The torn fabric hangs loosely from my waist, but I don’t care; I have no time for caring.
He leans into me, pressing his mouth against the valley between my breasts, and runs his tongue over my skin. With his hands on my shoulders, he pulls the straps of my bra down my arms, and in an instant, his fingers are on my back unclasping my bra. The cups drop down over my breasts, and like a wild animal completely devoid of self-control, he grabs my bra and yanks it off.