“Sounds like my kind of game What's the catch?” he asked.
“We can't move from this spot. This wall. I want you to pound me through this wall,” she explained. He dropped her leg.
“Who is on the other side of that wall? Ellie and Robert? Very clever, baby girl. Very obscene,” his voice was low as well.
“That's what I was going for. I won't be quiet,” she warned him.
“Is this really what you want to do?” he double checked. His hesitancy annoyed her. She arched her back, pushing her hips away from the wall, and sighed. She let her eyes slide away from his, as if she were tired of their conversation.
“If you don't want to, it's fine. I'm sure I can find someone else to play with; Robert was very keen a moment ago,” she said in a bored voice. Jameson's eyebrows shot up. Now she had his attention.
“Oh really? I saw the way he was looking at you. What did he say?” Jameson asked, stepping closer to her. She shrugged.
“Stuff. Things. Since I have a thing for Ellie's sloppy seconds, basically, why not give him a try. What a good fuck I must be. What a tease I am for not showing him,” Tate replied nonchalantly. Jameson was now pressed against her.
“Would you show him?” he asked, his hands pressing against her ribs and then sliding around to her back. She chuckled.
“If I could tie Ellie down and make her watch, maybe,” she replied.
“Kinky. Can I watch, too?” he asked, unhooking her bra and sliding it down her arms.
“I don't think so. You haven't been very good to me lately,” she pointed out. He laughed, pulling the towel away from his hips.
“Baby girl, I am always good to you,” Jameson countered.
“That's a matter of opinion.”
“And your opinion doesn't matter.”
And then it was like a switch. He ripped her panties away – the expensive ones he had bought for her – and grabbed her ass, forcing her legs around his waist, forcing his way inside of her. She cried out and slapped her hands against the wall above her head. She was going to put on a performance that Robert and Ellie would never forget.
It was almost comical at first – it was like being in one of Ang's pornos. She said things she normally never said, things she laughed at when other people said them – “You fuck me so good, oh my god, your dick's so big, oh yeah, harder, slower, right there, you're amazing.” And of course his name, over and over again. Couldn't let them forget who she was doing this with, after all. She even heard Jameson laugh at one point.
But as his thrusts got harder, the game melted away. She groaned and screamed for real, pounding one hand against the wall. Picture frames fell down. Books came off a shelf. There was a mirror across from them, and seeing their reflection, watching his muscled back and strong legs tense up, his hips moving against her so hard, it was practically her undoing. They hadn't even been standing there that long, and she was already coming like a freight train.
He didn't slow down at all. If anything, he pounded even harder. All his weight was pressing her in to the wall, one hand digging in to her ass and the other gripping her breast painfully. He pressed his face against the side of hers, growling at her through clenched teeth. Called her every filthy name she'd ever heard of, and a couple new ones. She was surprised, though, that he stuck to just names. Usually he liked to really degrade her, say horrible, horrible things about her, but not that night.
After what seemed like forever and two more orgasms for her, he literally dropped her to the floor and loudly told her to suck his cock. While she did so, he braced himself against the wall, beating his fist against it when she nipped at particularly tender areas. When he finally came, he announced it to the whole house, holding her head in place by her hair, pulling at the roots.
More of our games should be like this one.
“How was that? Good enough?” he whispered, breathing heavy as he leaned his forearms on the wall above her. She leaned away from him.
“It'll do for now,” she joked, gasping for air as well while she wiped at her mouth. He groaned and grabbed a handful of her hair.
“I can't wait to take you home and really treat you bad,” he grumbled, pulling her to her feet and leading her to the bed.
Me, neither.
~10~
Tatum woke up the next morning to Jameson chewing on her butt, literally. She laughed and slapped him away. He informed her that her father would be home in a couple hours, so she should probably get ready and brace herself. He offered for her to join him in the shower, but she knew that never led to getting ready, so she passed and sent him in on his own.
Grumbling, she pulled on her trademark socks, some booty shorts, and a long tank top before heading downstairs. Jameson had bought her an entire wardrobe for the weekend, all miss-priss clothing, but he had been thoughtful enough to include her usual sleep wear. It made her feel more comfortable, and she felt like she was more herself as she wandered in to the kitchen. Her mother was by a coffee pot, watching the coffee fill up.
“Good morning, honey,” her mother yawned. Tate managed a smile.
“Morning,” she replied, laying her top half across the counter and staring at the pot as well.
“I stopped and peeked in on you around five this morning, but you weren't in your room. Where were you?” her mom asked. Tate glanced at her. Was this for real?
“I was in Jameson's room,” she answered truthfully. Had the lady not heard anything?
“Oh my! I thought you were just friends!” Mother exclaimed. Tate stood up.
“We are. We are very, very good friends,” she emphasized. Her mother worried her hands.
“Do you think that's such a good idea, honey? I mean, what with Ellie and all, maybe it would be better to ..., you know, not,” her mother suggested.
Is she fucking kidding me?
“Mother. I don't give two fucks about Ellie, or how she feels,” Tate said in a hard voice. Her mother gasped.
“There is no need to talk like that! You should show some respect for your sister and her feelings!” she urged. Tate threw her head back and laughed.
“Is this a fucking joke? Why should I respect her? Or any of you? She hasn't spoken to me in seven years, she still treats me like the whore of Babylon, and her husband hit on me last night, after she complained about me ruining things between her and Jameson. Daddy doesn't even acknowledge my existence, and you only call me when you're drunk and feeling guilty,” she spat out.
Her mother stared at her for a second, eyes swimming with tears, and then she rushed out of the kitchen, letting out a sob. Ellie came in at the same time, jumping out of the way. She watched after her for a second and then turned her glare on Tate.
“See. You ruin everything. Your little show last night was disgusting. Something is wrong with you,” Ellie hissed. Tate smiled sweetly.
“That show was the best sex you'll never have, so you're welcome,” she replied, blowing a kiss at her sister. Ellie bristled up.
“I've had good sex. I slept with him first, you know,” she snapped. Tate laughed.
“Not the same thing at all, Ellie. And it's not a competition, who got him first, who got him last. I didn't want him then, and I don't have him now. You shouldn't even care about who he is, or isn't, fucking; you're married,” Tate pointed out.