That sobers him up. Good.
“Sure. But I just want to make sure you understand a real conversation isn’t synonymous with an interrogation.”
He has a way of annoying me by pointing out things I should’ve realized myself, but haven’t. “I realize that,” I snap. I just wanted to ask you a few dozen questions. It wouldn’t have been an official interrogation. ”But you also need to understand what’s at stake here. This isn’t like before. I can’t just open my heart to you on a whim.” I hold up the baby monitor and shake it toward him. “I have to think about my little guy, and what’s best for him.”
He takes a step toward me and I suddenly realize how close we are. I can see each of his long eyelashes and deep into the dark pools of his eyes, tempting me to fall in. Stop it. Be an adult. Talk through this with some self-control before you start thinking about how gorgeous he is.
“Is having a mother who’s sexually frustrated good for him?”
“I’m not—” I say indignantly. Then I lower my voice. “I’m not…sexually frustrated.”
“Then why is your heart racing right now? Why are your cheeks flushed? I bet your panties are already fucking soaked.”
I slap him. The sound cracks out in the quiet apartment. He looks down, laughing quietly, ominously. “You shouldn’t do that.” The way he looks up at me with his chin tilted down is frightening to say the least, and I start to realize how dangerous it was for me to come here alone, at night without telling anyone where I would be. This man is a killer. I can’t just forget that. He may say he wants to protect me, but how do I know?
“What are you going to do?” I wish my voice sounded stronger, less like a strangled whisper.
“Whatever you want me to do,” he says huskily. His body is against mine, pinning me to the wall.
Just one more time. Just this once. I need to get him out of my system. I need to let him take me again and use me how he wants. I need this. Once it’s behind me, I can start to look at the situation without the clouds of lust blinding me to the truth. Just this once. I carefully drop the baby monitor to the floor beside me.
His hard cock presses into my stomach and I feel my pussy throbbing with need. Just the memory of what it was like to have him inside me is too much. I’m already tearing at his buttons, struggling to get his shirt off.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I gasp into his ear as I strip his shirt. “It’s just physical.”
He kisses the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “If that’s the lie you need to tell yourself.”
I glare over his shoulder as he lifts me so that his cock grinds into my waiting heat. I’m just wearing a simple pair of black yoga pants, and the thin material is barely a barrier between us. Being called out on my little lie pisses me off, but for some reason, it just makes me press my hips into him harder, squeezing tighter against the muscles on his back and shoulders. The driving force behind my passion is anger. Anger at him, anger at where I am in life, and anger at the unfairness of it all. I just want a release, and part of me even feels guilty using him for such an impersonal purpose. Even he sees through my lies, though. I want this as much, if not more than he does, and it’s not just about the anger. It’s about the years I’ve spent craving this exact moment, even if I thought my mind would be in a more secure place when it happened.
He rips my shirt over my head and my breasts bounce down, still held by my bra. He squeezes my tits hard enough to hurt a little, but then the warmth of his mouth on my nipples soothes away the pain as he skillfully unhooks my bra with one hand and frees my tits. The air is cold on my already hardened nipples, and it’s not long before the warmth of his mouth is on them. I arch my head back, reeling as the shockwaves of pleasure fire through my body, igniting every nerve from my fingertips to my core.
I squeeze the back of his head, pressing him into me, unable to get enough. I want him so bad it hurts. He pulls back so that my feet fall to the floor and yanks my pants down in one swift motion so that I’m only in the pink lace panties I wore, guilty conscious of the possibility that he might see my underwear. He steps back and admires me, pacing before me, shirtless and clad only in his slacks. His hard, powerful body is a masterpiece, and my eyes can’t decide if they want to drink in the curves and cuts of his muscular frame, or the perfect lines of his face and the smooth swell of his lips. He looks at me like his property, like he’s deciding what to do with me, and I’m surprised to find that I want nothing more than to be used by him however he likes.
Just for a little while I can let go. Just one last time, I can forget my problems and let his touch burn them away.
He flicks the buckle of his belt free and unbuttons his slacks, letting them hang loose, giving me a tantalizing peak of his lower stomach. I reach to touch him, but he takes my hands, pinning them above my head. I struggle a little against him and he presses back, eyes full of fire. “My way,” he growls. “We’re doing this my way.”
His voice gives me chills. I press the back of my head against the wall, letting him pin me there, waiting to see what he wants to do with me. He takes his time looking at my body, eyes lingering on my lips, neck, tits, and panties. He reaches down, grabbing my panties with a tug he tears them off me. I quiver, surprised by how much it’s turning me on to be used like this. It’s all I can do not to throw my legs around him now and grind myself into him hungrily, but the smoldering intensity in his eyes makes me afraid to disobey, so I wait.
“You don’t get to cum until I give you permission. Do you understand?” he asks as his hand begins working my clit, moving in slow circles and making my knees weak. How am I supposed to keep from cumming when he does that? A slow pressure starts to build in my lower stomach, blossoming quickly through my body so that my eyebrows draw down and my eyes close. “God,” I moan.
49
Leo
My cock is so hard it hurts. But I’ve waited so long to fuck her that I’m not going to waste it. I’m going to make this last as long as I possibly can, because it could be the last time. I circle her clit with my fingers, marveling at how wet she is for me. I kiss the soft skin of her neck, feeling her racing pulse against my lips and the vibrations of her moans through my tongue. She bucks into me, arms squirming in my grip, but not strong enough to break free. She cheats a little by wrapping one of her legs around me, but I let her slide on that one.
Feeling how wet she is makes me so hungry to taste her again that I can’t help myself. I let go of her wrists and grab her under the thighs, lifting her so that her legs rest on my shoulders and her back is against the wall. I don’t wait, diving into her pussy with the kind of hunger that only four years of anticipation can create. Her thighs press against my ears, muffling sound, but not so much that I can’t hear her sharp intake of breath when my tongue finds her. God, she tastes so fucking good.
I take two fistfulls of her ass as I ravenously eat her out. I can tell by the way she quivers against me and thrusts her hips rhythmically that she’s getting close. She had better fucking remember not to cum until I give her permission. I don’t want her need diminished in any way. I want her absolutely on the edge of desperation to cum when my cock is inside her. I want her to ride me so hard that my dick will be sore tomorrow. It’s almost impossible to pace myself with her. I’m like a kid in a fucking candy shop, and I just want to eat it all right now.