Page 3 of Wicked Fury

“Someone’s eager,” she taunts, casting a glance back over her shoulder. “But if you’re not quick about it, quarterback, I’ll find someone who is.”

“Patience is a virtue,” I grunt, fumbling with my belt. In a swift motion, it’s undone, and my pants follow, pooling at my ankles. My cock springs free, hard, and aching for her.

“Keep that up,” she warns, though there’s an edge of anticipation in her voice, “and you’ll be wearing my marks for days.”

“Promises, promises,” I growl, as she works my nerves with this wicked little game of bantering we have going on.

I make quick work of sheathing myself, my hands shaking with need and impatience. The foil packet crinkles as I roll the condom down my length, making sure my frenum piercing isn’t snagging, tossing the wrapper aside like an afterthought.

In one fluid motion, I slide a hand between her thighs, gauging her response. She’s slick, welcoming, and a low moan escapes her lips as my fingers confirm what her body is already telling me—she’s more than ready.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” I murmur, more to myself than her. There’s no need for teasing or coaxing. She’s primed, hot, practically dripping for it. And I’m not one to deny what’s so eagerly offered.

“Then stop talking and start fucking,” Iris shoots back, her voice urgent.

With a grunt, I grip her hip firmly, anchoring her to me as I slide home in one fluid stroke. A raw sound tears from both our throats. It’s a perfect fit—tight, warm, overwhelming. Bottoming out inside her, I can’t help but groan her name, a deep, guttural sound that won’t be tamed.

“Fuck!” she exclaims, ecstasy lacing her voice, her insides clamping around me in sweet, rhythmic contractions.

“Christ, yes,” I hiss, setting a punishing pace. My free hand snakes into her chestnut hair, gripping a handful and pulling her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Tension coils within me, every thrust intensifying the storm brewing at my core. Her body responds beautifully, tightening around me, each clench sending sparks along my spine.

“Like that?” I growl into her ear, feeling the vibration of her moans against my palm.

“Harder,” she demands, her voice thick with desire.

I comply without hesitation, the force of my body driving into hers matching the chaos of my thoughts. She tightens around me with every push, a delicious indication of her pleasure.

“Touch yourself,” I command between labored breaths. “I want to feel your cum on my fucking cock.”

Without hesitation, Iris slips a hand between her legs. Her movements are feverish, desperate, seeking that peak. The sight of it ignites something feral within me, and I surge forward, relentless. The slap of skin echoes in my ears, mingling with the music thumping somewhere beyond these walls.

“Like that,” she gasps, her voice hitching as she works herself toward a climax. And then she’s there, her body seizing up, a vise-like grip around me. A wave of warmth floods through her, soaking us both.

“Exactly like that.” Satisfaction roars through me. “Make yourself gush for me, Iris.”

“Fuck,” I grunt, feeling her tremble beneath me. My movements become frenzied, powered by the raw need to chase my own release.

“Harder,” she pants, and I oblige without a second thought, driving into her with a force that borders on reckless. I am nothing but instinct, primal desire fueling each movement.

“Come for me again, Iris,” I urge, practically begging her.

Her body responds beautifully, muscles clenching rhythmically around me as she reaches another climax. It’s like a fist, gripping me tighter, drawing me deeper into her body. Her sharp cry fills the room, flooding my own system with adrenaline knowing I did my job and got her off first and second.

“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, riding out the wave of her orgasm, every pulse of her body pushing me closer to the edge of my own control.

I’m teetering on the edge, breaths ragged, as pleasure coils tight in my gut. With a low growl, I give two final, powerful thrusts, my control snapping. I come hard, filling the condom, every muscle in my body tensing in unison with the pulse of my climax.

“Goddamn, Iris,” I breathe out, my voice ragged with satisfaction.

Iris crumples slightly beneath me, her breathing just as labored. The scent of sex hangs heavy between us, mingling with the faint smells of booze and stickiness that permeates the party beyond these walls.

Carefully, I pull back, the sound of our skin parting oddly loud in the quiet room. Holding onto the base of the condom, I ensure nothing is spilled—no trace of this encounter left inside her. The last thing I need is an ‘oh fuck’ scare. I’m already stressed enough with life as it is.

“Jesus,” she breathes, still sprawled across the bed, her voice a husky note that strokes my senses even now and I just gave everything I had.

“Good?” I manage to ask, panting slightly as I peel off the used protection.

“Better than good,” she replies, a smirk playing at the corner of her full lips, a glint of satisfaction in her striking green eyes. She pushes herself up on her elbows, the movement causing her brunette waves to tumble in disarray.

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