“'Kay,” I said quietly, feeling him bury to the hilt.
“Show me how you want it,” he told me, his other hand moving to press at the lowest part of my back, just above my ass.
Then I started moving. At first, just rocking my hips forward and back before starting an up and down thrust, feeling my body clench hard around him every time his cock withdrew.
“You like it slow?” he asked, not sounding disappointed, despite that 'no slow and sweet lover' warning he had given me before.
But even as he asked, I could feel the desire reaching a fever-pitch, becoming an overwhelming, clawing need to be released. And my hips started moving faster, my breathing becoming more ragged, my heart slamming. My hands moved to his hard chest, digging in slightly as my pace became more and more erratic, too far gone to keep it steady.
“Fuck,” he growled, both of his hands moving until they were at my hips and he held them in place, his body suddenly starting to move under mine, thrusting up into me in a fast, steady pace that had the whimpers becoming load, constant moans as my body felt the end coming close. “Tell me you like when I fuck you,” he said in a deep, struggling voice.
“I like when you fuck me,” I answered immediately. It was true. Painfully so. “Oh my god... fuck...” I groaned, my nails nipping into the skin of his chest as I felt the tightening deep in my core, the threat of the explosion. Then his cock thrust upward again and I felt my orgasm tearing through my system, his name coming out on a strangled gasp.
I fell forward, my face burying into his neck as it rolled through me, making my body jolt in aftershocks.
He kept thrusting even as my moans became a murmured contentment. “Nuh uh, doll, ain't done with you yet,” he said, sounding amused as he suddenly knifed up to a standing position, taking me with him, wrapped around his center.
Arms around his shoulders, face buried in his neck, I had no idea we were even moving until I felt my back slam against a wall.
My head snapped up to find him looking down at me, a devilish smirk at his lips. “You got to do it your way. Now I get to do it mine.”
I felt a thrill shoot through me at the words. But then his hands were sliding from my hips, going behind my knees, making then tilt up and my hips jolt down awkwardly and if I wasn't pressed against the wall, I would have been on my ass. He yanked my knees up higher and held them up as he started slamming into me, his hips hitting my inner thighs with each thrust in a way that was going to end up bruising. But I was too far gone to care as his thickness pushed me mercilessly back upward, making my breathing that had just leveled out become hitched and ragged.
His face titled, moving next to my ear as his body jerked ruthlessly into mine. “Sweet fuckin' pussy,” he growled. “You like it rough?” he asked, not needing to as I was mid moan as he did.
“Yes.”
His head tilted, taking my lips to his and crushing into them as his pace got somehow even faster.
The tightening inside strengthened and I felt myself begging against his lips, “Don't stop.”
“Not till you're fuckin' screamin',” he promised back, his tongue moving forward to claim mine.
It was seconds... seconds later that I felt the coil inside snap, sending with it the pulsating rush of pleasure that was stronger than any I had ever known before.
Then I screamed. Like he said. His name. Like he liked.
His head lifted, watching my face as he thrust through my orgasm, drawing it out, then burying deep as he came, growling out my name.
“Jesus fuckin' Christ,” he said against my neck a few minutes later.
Unable to make my brain and voice box work together to form words, I felt my head nodding. That seemed to cover it. Jesus fucking Christ.
“I hurt you?” he asked, pulling backward, his hands sliding from under my knees to under my ass.
There was soreness. A whole lot of it. Between my legs. My inner thighs. But it was a good kind of soreness.
“No,” I said, opening my eyes to his.
To this, he nodded, lowering my feet down onto the ground. “Fuckin' perfect,” he mumbled, one of his hands moving up my belly to cup my breast briefly before settling on my jaw. The sore side. Stroking butterfly soft over the bruise. “Go get some clothes on,” he said, moving away from me.
“Why?” I asked, leaning back against the wall, not fully trusting my legs to hold me yet.
“We're gonna go to your place and get some of your shit,” he said, walking into the bathroom.
At that, my legs seemed to remember their job as they carried me over to my tee. I threw it on before making my way over to the bathroom door.
“What?” I asked through the closed door.
It whipped open and there was Breaker. Still naked. Still blissfully comfortable that way.
“You need some clothes. We'll grab your laptop. Anything else you need. You're gonna be here a while. Might as well have your shit with you.”
With that, he brushed past me and went to get clothes on.
A part of me was hesitant to go anywhere. To leave the relative safety of his home. But he was right. I needed clothes. My laptop would be good too. And my notebooks. The picture of my mom I kept in a box under my bed. I didn't have much. Hell, we would probably carry in our hands everything I owned.
So I went into the bathroom, found my dust-covered yoga pants and slipped them on commando, deciding to keep his tee on rather than put my old dirty one back on. Then I slipped into the boots Breaker bought me and went out to meet him. He was changed into dark wash jeans and a dark gray long sleeve thermal that looked way too good over his broad chest.