Flock (The Ravenhood)

“Fuck,” he grits out on a breath between kisses. He flicks the other spaghetti strap of my dress down a second before he yanks the material freeing my breasts, my pebbled nipples drawing tight, the ache unrelenting. He cups each in his calloused hands, his kiss deepening to level insane as my clit pulses, begging. I grip his hand and move it to my thigh beneath my skirt and feel only a second’s worth of hesitation before he knuckles the silk and lace fabric between. He dips into the elastic, shoving my panties to the side and I gasp into his mouth as he roughly shoves two fingers inside me. My moan fuels him as he twists his fingers, fucking me roughly with them.

“Sean,” I gasp out, hooking my arm around his neck to ride his hand. Reaching down, I palm and squeeze his erection and feel his groan as he pushes me back against the dash, ripping my arm from around him. He rests me on his knees as I set my elbows on the dash, just watching him. Dress still hoisted around my hips, he grips the flimsy triangle of material between my thighs and rips the crotch away. Eager, I move in to release him, but he swats my hand, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock before pumping it in his fist. My mouth waters at the sight of it, the sight of him coming undone.

He lifts, pulling out his wallet and plucking a condom from it before he hands it to me. I rip it open and grip his silky skin in my hand, pumping him from base to oozing tip before I roll the latex onto him. Once fitted, he runs a finger between my folds, playing with the gathered wetness at my core. A cool breeze drifts through the car as he grips my head with his palm and pulls me in for a kiss, a second before pushing me onto my back, twisting to settle between my legs and driving into me until he’s buried. I quake at the feel of him as he thrusts into me mercilessly. The slapping sound fueling me, I lift my hips to meet his. He grips my hair with his fist as he drives into me and I moan at the sting and the reward of his fucking. Lifting his T-shirt, I run my hands over his muscled chest as he gazes down at me, his eyes lava, his heart pounding against my palm.

“Damn…you…” he grunts, picking up his pace, “you are so much trouble.”

Filled to the brink, I fumble to get his shirt off and he discards it with ease. Free to roam, I take in every detail, the timber of his grunts, the feel of his skin, every nuance of his build and lock my legs around him, meeting his hips before tossing my head back. He’s deep, so deep. I can only hold onto him and allow myself to be ravaged. He consumes me wholly, with his scent, his face, his body, his cock. He pushes my crooked thigh against the seat, diving deeper and I scream his name as he goes feral, his hips picking up at an unimaginable pace as he burns through me.

I blink and his hand dips between us, his fingers kneading my clit as he pounds his cock along my walls, lifting and angling himself just so. The orgasm sneaks up and I explode, the entirety of my body shuddering with release as he drives in once, twice and comes, his jaw slack, eyes firing emerald in the soft light of the cabin. I run my fingers along his biceps as he gazes down at me, wordless. His golden smile returns before he covers me in a soft kiss, his fingers loosening their grip on my hair and I’m lifted from the seat by the sweep of his arm and brought to his chest.

“That escalated quickly,” he says with a chuckle.

“Mmhmm,” I murmur, hearing the fatigue in my voice.

“We have a problem,” he mumbles into my neck, as I massage his sweat slickened shoulders.

“What’s that?” I ask, unbelieving I let it, no, willed it to go that far.

He lifts his head, peering up at me where I gather myself in his lap. “I only had that one condom.”

“We have all the time in the

world, right?” He nods into my shoulder, a haunted hint shadowing his eyes when they meet mine.

“Right.”

“What’s wrong?” His gaze clears and he shakes his head, his shoulders going lax.

“Nothing,” he strokes my skin, cupping my breasts, “nothing at all,” he repeats, before claiming my mouth possessively. In his claiming kiss, I get lost.

LAUNDRY.

For the past fifteen minutes, that’s what Sean and I have been sorting. And not just Sean’s laundry, but Tyler and Dominic’s as well.

“Is there a reason we’re washing your roommate’s clothes too?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s their laundry, that’s why.”

“You do shit for your friends, right?”

“Yeah, like picking up the dinner check once in a while or painting their nails. I don’t spray and wash their thongs.”

“This is better.”

“How so?”

“Because who likes doing laundry?”

I do. I like doing laundry, because of Sean. He makes menial tasks a hell of a lot more fun, especially when he runs his crotch along mine where I sit perched atop a washer, leaving me wanton, wondering if it was purposeful before his lips lift.

Bastard.

He plays mind games with me all the time, which keeps me on my toes. A lot of the time it’s wordplay, most of the time sexual suggestion I would miss if I wasn’t paying attention. But I don’t miss it, because Sean edges me, constantly, sometimes to the point of tears, until I’m begging.

He’s a bit of a sadist, and I love it.