He tastes of mint and a hint of cigarette smoke. Never having kissed a smoker, it shocks me that I enjoy kissing… or, should I say, being kissed by one. I feel like I’m barely a part of this, like I’m there for his use in a way that’s … so damn amazing.
With his free hand, he takes mine from his hard chest and wraps it around his cock. I stroke him, and he groans into my mouth.
He slides his fingers down my belly and takes no time in pushing one inside of me as he growls against my lips. Then he moves his finger in and out of me slowly, and my head falls back with each tap to that spot no other man has found, even when given instruction.
He removes his hand from the back of my head as he slides his lips down my neck. Adding another finger, his mouth on my breast, my nails in his shoulders, my hips rotating, thrusting …
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t you dare,” he tugs on my nipple then sucks harshly. Releasing it with a pop, he looks up at me. “You lean back, you’ll fuck up the art.” Standing to his full height, he pulls his fingers out of me then turns me so my back is to him.
With his hand between my shoulder blades, I look back at him.
His demanding eyes penetrate me as he searches mine. “Gonna do you doggy, so your wrapping stays put.”
Gonna do you doggy? A part of me feels like I should take a little offense to this. Oddly, no part of me actually does.
His eyes are now gone from mine as he looks over my naked body bent over the table. When they land on the art, as he calls it, his eyes flare then narrow, his jaw tightens and twitches as he curses, “Fuck.”
“Fucking is when your dick is inside of me, and there’s nothing between—”
My breath leaves my body as he slams into me.
He stills and hisses between clenched teeth, “I know what fucking is. Your pussy’s so tight I’m thinking you’re about to find out the true definition for the first time.”
His magic fingers did nothing to prepare me. I’m painfully stretched but uncaring.
I narrow my eyes and attempt to keep my voice as even as I can when I challenge, “Why don’t you get to it then?”
His smirk disappears. His eyes flash from mischief to lust, hazel to black. With his large inked hands, he grips my hips as I grip the edge of the table, preparing myself.
He pulls out slightly and slowly. Then, so, so slowly, he pushes in, and I swear his dick nudges my esophagus. His jaw tightens along with my insides as his eyes penetrate me as deeply as his cock.
“You gonna move, or should I take over?”
“You’re gonna regret that question.”
“You afraid you’re going to bust a nut—”
He moves one hand from my hip and snakes it around my hair. He pulls me back and kisses me harshly, deeply. As I attempt to take over, he pulls away, his eyes menacing as he releases my hair. Then he swiftly moves his hand to my tit, squeezes it, and pinches my nipple.
It hurts, but fuck if it doesn’t feel good, too.
“I have places to go, so you better …” I stop when he removes his other hand from my hip and lifts my leg up, placing my knee on the table.
“You canceled your plans when you got naked with me.”
I narrow my eyes, open my mouth, and then … then he fucks me.
“Fuck!” I cry out.
Through his clenched teeth, he hisses, “That’s right, sweets; this is fucking.”
He fucks me hard, deep…so good. He plays with my tits and occasionally kisses me so hard I don’t realize he’s no longer kissing me when he does stop.
I cry out pleasures I’ve never cried before as he continues fucking me through one orgasm and into the next while I hang on to the table for dear life.
My body is no longer mine. It’s completely and totally controlled by him as I reach places never reached before.
“Knees, sweets,” he demands as he turns me around, fingers finding me again, not one, not two, but three as he kisses me unforgivingly again before pulling away and dragging his fingers from deep inside me to push down on my shoulder.
I sink willingly. If not, my legs would have given out at any moment without his controlling —puppeteering— fingers holding me up.
He pulls off the condom while hooking two fingers in my already gaping mouth and pulling me forward. “Put those lips I bruised around my cock, sweets.”
I open wide, so fucking wide, and then he removes his fingers from my mouth to cup the back of my head as he fucks my face.
He steps back, forcing me to follow him as he turns our bodies so he can sit on the table. I grip the base of him as he leans back, watching me now as I suck the saliva off his cock. His chest heaves, and his lips part slightly, his teeth still together.
“You better stop.”
Feeling some sense of control now, I suck harder and pump faster as I watch him begin to lose it.
I give him a slow wink, and his brow rises.
Reaching down, he lifts me up as I bite down on him.
A deep rumble leaves his chest. “Good way to chip a tooth.” He pulls me up as he leans back. “On my fucking face, sweet treat.”
He doesn’t wait for me to finish him off. He grips my hips and pulls me up.
I turn my body so that I can taste his soft, steel-like skin in my mouth as he pulls my soaked center onto his face and licks me savagely.
Against me, he groans, “Last warning.”
I don’t stop until I’m sure his face is covered with my juices, and my mouth is full of his cum.
Still swallowing … trying to catch my breath and slow my heartbeat, I swing my leg over and dismount the face of a … fucking man … and try my best to stop my legs from shaking while I stand on the floor.
Awkward is never a feeling I’ve had after sex, but then again, I’ve never actually had sex with a person that I met just four hours ago.
Unsatisfied and questioning why I bothered getting naked for maybe ten minutes, if I was lucky, to race to the finish, a race I always lost. That was sex … until twenty minutes ago.
As I begin to squat down to grab my haphazardly discarded clothing, a hand on my hip stops me. I begin to look back when I feel a warm cloth between my legs. I didn’t even hear the water run.
“I’d offer you a shower, but …” He leaves it hanging as he wipes up one thigh then the next before beginning to wipe my center.
“I can manage.” I reach down and attempt to take the cloth, but he doesn’t let go. I look back to see his eyes are softer now.
“Take your time.”
“Take my time?” I ask.
“Getting your shit straight.” He holds back a smirk.
“I assure you, my shit’s straight.” My shit is so not straight.
“If we had more time, I would have fucked that up, too.” He steps back and looks me over.
The source of raw emptiness pulses again.
He makes no attempt to put clothes on; he simply watches me with irritating amusement.
“You do know I just fucked your face, so …” I give him a smug look and shrug.
When he laughs, I arch a brow while pulling my underpants up.
He holds his hands up as if to mockingly concede, I turn my back to him as I put on my bra, trying to hide my own smile.
I just fucked your face? Really? I scold myself.
When I feel my tank top being placed over my head, I softly thank him and push my arms through the holes.