I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed in nothing but one of the hotel’s fluffy towels wrapped around myself, putting in an application when the door opens. I turn startled, watching with wide eyes as McHottie himself comes stumbling in.
“Well, if it isn’t Jade, wide awake and waiting like a good girl for my cock,” he slurs.
“Are you drunk?” I ask ignoring his crass words or the venom in which he delivered them.
“What do you think? I need to be drunk to do what I’m about to do.”
“Well, I’m sorry that fucking me is such a hardship. Next time, tell your wife to choose better,” I snark, forgetting all about being civil. If he keeps it up, he won’t have a dick to fuck anyone with as I will chop it off.
Giving an evil laugh, he comments, “That’s not happening. I’m one and done. If you don’t get pregnant, Nichole better be prepared to adopt because I’m not going through this shit again.” I watch him move forward warily. He looks nothing like when I first saw him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still hot, but right now he looks more rough around the edges. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop, he’s sporting day old scruff that, in my opinion, makes him look even hotter, if that’s even possible. His normally pristine suit is wrinkled and the striped tie he’s wearing is hanging loose around his neck, half done. When he finally makes it to the bed, he sorta flops onto it and with him so close, I can smell the bourbon seeping out of his pores.
“Maybe you should go home. You didn’t drive here, did you?”
“Fuck, no. I’m already about to make one bad decision, I’m not about to add more to the list.”
“Okay,” I reply, biting back a smart remark until I think better of it. He’s not holding back, so why should I? “You’re useless drunk, beyond the point of getting it up. Maybe you should have held back on your liquor.”
“Shows what you know. I’m hard now just by looking at you in this towel. Fuck, I get hard every time I think about you and this tight body, and these,” he says, moving his hand to my generous tits but stops himself halfway. Got to love liquid truth serum. If he weren’t drunk, I’m sure he’d never tell me these things. “Besides, if I weren’t hard, I’m sure that smart mouth of yours would get me up in no time,” he sneers, still staring at my tits.
“I’m not a whore. You can’t just come in here talking to me this way,” I snap, done playing nice with the asshole. Drunk or not, he’s being a dick. I get he doesn’t want to do this, but he’s lashing out at the wrong person.
“Well, aren’t you?” He retorts, making me bristle.
“Excuse me,” I growl.
“A whore. We’re paying you to fuck me, so by the very definition, you’re a whore or a prostitute. What are they called nowadays? Working girls?”
“Get out,” I shout, rising to my feet. Fuck angry, I’m in a ‘will fuck you up and hang you by your balls’ rage. Who the hell does this privilege prick think he is?
“No, I don’t think so. Now sit down,” he orders, pulling at my towel in an attempt to lower me to the bed, but all he ends up doing is pulling the damn thing off and it falls soundlessly to the carpet. Now I’m standing before him naked as the day I was born as he stares at my body shell shocked.
It seems like we’re both caught in a trance or some epic stare down where neither of us want to blink first. My mind is fuzzy and I’m completely confused about who the predator and who the prey is here. I thought I was in control, my own anger winning over his douchebagness. But in one move, I learn that is not the case. With a growl, he grabs me by the hips and I fall unceremoniously onto his lap, where he slams his mouth onto mine. The kiss is demanding, forcing me to allow him entrance to the deepest part of me. Feelings I’ve kept locked up tight, surge to the forefront, taking advantage of the breach and go barreling towards freedom. I moan in his mouth and he bites my bottom lip in a total alpha move to get me to submit.
Breaking our lip lock, he gazes deep in my eyes and I get lost in the storm happening in his irises. Setting me aside, he stands, never wavering his gaze from mine and starts to strip. I didn’t take McHottie for a man to get ink, I thought he was too rigid, too proper for that, but imagine my surprise when I spy a celtic design covering his entire right peck of his chest to a full sleeve stopping at his wrist. The designs and swirls loop around his muscled body and holy moly, was this man ripped. All lean muscle leading to an enticing six pack. When he removes his slacks and briefs at the same time, I follow his happy trail of dark hair to a delectable V all men who are in shape seem to have, all the way down to an ‘are you serious this man is huge’ dick. My eyes widen and his dick jumps as if it’s alive and knows what I’m thinking.
“Get on your knees and face the headboard,” he orders and I jump to his command like my common sense just jumped ship. I feel like I’ve been invaded by the body snatchers as I have no complaint about doing what I’m told.
I feel the bed dip and soon the warmth from his body behind me. When something very hard presses my backside, a shudder ripples through my body. With one hand, he threads my fingers through his and holds my arm out on the headboard while his other sneaks around my body and his finger dips into my center. I’m already so fucking wet from my imagination running wild to the point where I’m sure I was dripping on the sheets. Using my slickness, he rubs my clit, fucking me with expert fingers. He’s flush against my back and the smell of bourbon, as well as his delicious natural scent, assaults my nostrils as he moves closer. Soon, he gets me to the point where my legs start to tremble and shake. Right when I’m about to explode, he pulls his finger away and I whine from the loss like a baby who just got its favorite toy snatched away, but I don’t suffer from the loss long when he lines himself with my cunt from behind and sinks into me, all the way to the hilt. This time, I cry out from the intrusion. He’s fucking huge and I haven’t been with anyone but my finger in months. He doesn’t give me a chance to adjust to his size. Instead, he starts to plow into my body, fucking me with long, angry thrusts. His other hand, the one that was in my pussy, grabs my other arm and holds me to the headboard while his big body keeps me flush against it.
This is no tender fuck, but a hate fuck. Everything Grayson has been holding inside has exploded out of him as he jackhammers into my body. With me pinned flat against the headboard, I feel like a vessel being used for his pleasure, but something must be twisted and fucked up inside me because instead of being ashamed or even angry, I moan, lost in my own pleasure, enjoying the pain he’s trying to inflict. He’s relentless as he moves in and out of me, his thrusts wild and uncontained. The growls and grunts releasing from his mouth sound like a wolf, answering my earlier question that I’m the one that’s the prey.
When I’m close, my walls quiver and he speeds up, ramming himself deeper inside me, hitting that special spot over and over again until I cum hard, creaming all over his dick. The cocky bastard’s lips smile against my neck and he slows down just so he can thrust himself inside deeper, until I swear I can feel him in my stomach, checking out the baby’s new digs once it’s conceived. With a roar, he cums deep inside me and falls on my body, breathing hard. We stay like that until both our hearts calm down and stop playing Mario Kart.