I’m getting so close to a climax that I can’t keep my tongue from rolling over my lips. Right as I moan, he pulls back, and whispers, “You’re about to come, aren’t you?”
“Fuck,” I reply. “Maybe?”
A devilish smile warps his face. “Beg.”
“What?” I mutter, my whole body buzzing.
“You heard me,” he says, his fingers digging into my skin as he grips my thighs tight. “Beg me.”
A part of me wants to rip him a new one, but then my lips part, and I say, “Please … do it.”
“Do what?” He raises a brow, making me wanna slap him in the face.
But I don’t. Instead, I reply, “Lick me.”
The smirk on his face only grows bigger. “You got it, cupcake.”
Fuck, I really hate it when he calls me that.
Except now, when he immediately dives back in, sucking and licking like a goddamn pro.
I’ll be his cupcake as long as he keeps his tongue right there on the right spot until I finish.
And fuck me, do I finish hard.
“Yes, come all over me,” he growls, circling my clit until I explode.
I moan out loud and grasp his hair as I’m immersed in the ripples of ecstasy flowing through my body. Damn, that was some good head.
However, I can’t even catch my breath because he immediately pulls me toward the edge of the workbench and rips down his zipper, pulling out his hard-on. I still can’t wrap my head around how big he really is … or my hands, for that matter.
Without holding back, he plunges into my pussy and buries himself to the base. My jaw drops and a tiny squeak rolls off my tongue at the feel of him inside me. I’m still getting used to the size of him as he begins to thrust. With an animal-like gaze, he looks me directly in the eye, wanting me to know I’m his. Like I have no say in it. Like I’ve lost my heart to him a long time ago.
Fuck. I can’t, but I can’t stop wanting him to bang me even harder too.
My feet clamp around his legs, and my breasts bounce up and down. They draw his attention, and he plays with my nipples, tugging them, twisting them, making me squeal.
“I fucking love those sounds you make,” he says, and he groans in excitement.
Every time he says something, my heart feels as though it’s about to jump out of my chest. Like I wanna wrap my arms around him and never let go. But I still hate him. I should.
“Gonna come again for me, pretty girl?” he asks. Thrusting hard and fast, he pushes my head to almost bump into the wall.
I love it when he calls me that. It’s a better name than cupcake, that’s for sure.
“Say that again,” I say, licking my lips. “And maybe I will.”
“What … are you purring for me now?” He wraps his fingers around my throat, but this time I’m not even scared. I don’t know why. It’s just something in his eyes. Something’s changed. I don’t think he’ll kill me anymore. He wants to control me … and fuck me into complete ruin.
“Are you my pretty girl?” His voice is dark, laced with a deep, dark intent.
I know I shouldn’t say yes.
I really shouldn’t.
Not to a man like him.
But that’s just it. All this time, I’ve been doing everything I shouldn’t, and everything I wanted so desperately.
“Yes,” I whisper.
A fire lights in his eyes, one that even sets my soul ablaze just by looking at him. And he bangs me even harder than before, tightening the grip around my neck until I can barely breathe.
At that moment, I find bliss.
All the madness fades away and leaves only euphoria in its wake.
A sliver of peace in my unruly mind.
His hands slide down my chest, releasing the pent-up pressure, and I take in my first breath of oxygen like a newborn. I feel renewed … practically reborn. Our eyes fixed on each other in a fight for control. But I already know I’m not the winner. He is.
He grabs my back and pulls me into his embrace, pressing his lips on mine and forcing me to forget the pain and suffering and only focus on the here and now. Each thrust is another one that expunges the memories of our past and forges new ones. Delicious ones. Memories that I don’t want to be just that … memories.
I want them to last.
Fuck.
He’s really gotten to me.
I’m head over heels in deep.
To the point where I can’t take my eyes off him as he goes faster and faster, banging me like the sun won’t be here tomorrow and we’re the last people left on the goddamn planet.
It doesn’t even matter that we’re in a dreary, crummy shed, or that we’re banging on my greasy, unkempt workbench right behind my dad’s house. Nothing matters right now except this … Him … Us …