Page 7 of Ravager

“Fucking dothat again,” he begged, waiting for me to strain up and kiss him as he settled between my open legs. “Kiss me, baby.” He squeezed his eyes closed, like he was restraining himself, and I had to have more of him, this shift in demeanor fascinating.

I lunged up and pressed my lips to his again, closed at first, chaste but needy, and kissed him. Tender, all over his lips, while he stayed so still, so steady, eyes remaining slammed shut.

He let me work over his soft mouth, his skin coming up in goosebumps as I flickered my tongue over his bottom lip and followed it with a sucking kiss. Warming his lips, making them wet and pliable, and he remained a statue through it all, but I could tell from his little gasps he was enjoying it. He held himself so stiff above me, like he might explode over any at second too.

When I started trailing my kisses down his jaw, he finally flipped.

“That fucking mouth,” he growled, losing all that decorum and calm, grabbing my face and squeezing my jaw until my lips fell apart. Then his tongue was on mine, shoved deep in my mouth, massaging and roaming, seeking out every corner as he began rutting into me, his hard cock grinding against mine through too many layers of fabric.

My hands moved over his body, and he whimpered each time I touched somewhere new. His back, the top of his arms, the skin on his neck.

“Keep touching me,” he cried against my mouth. “Touch me everywhere. I need you to.”

For someone so commanding, he had such an interesting softness to him. A neediness I craved to heal. To fulfill.

I ghosted my hands through his hair, tugging on the longer strands, twisting locks of it behind his ear. All while he purred and groaned, shoving himself so close to me it felt like we might become a single amorphous blob of pheromones.

“Touch lower,” the stranger begged, his lips moving against mine before he sucked the bottom one between his teeth, nibbling and licking.

My hands moved down his solid, muscled back, down and around his waist, to his tight stomach. His breath hitched when I moved my fingertips over his navel and settled with my grip on his jeans.

“Your hands on me,” he whispered. “Fuck, your hands on me…”

When I went to slip beneath his jeans, he reacted with a jolt, rearing up and off, yanking me to my stumbling feet as he did.

“Need you naked,” he said. “On the couch.”

I huffed out a laugh, horniness rolling through me as I walked backwards until the back of my shins hit the plush fabric.

“Strip it away, beautiful,” he cooed, tipping his head. “I’m going to eat you up.”

“What if I want to eat you up first?” I teased, biting my lip.

His strange colored eyes heated. Fuck, something familiar struck me with that look again. It was dark in here, though, my vision playing tricks on me.

“Get that lip out from between your teeth or we won’t make it any further.” His voice was almost cold as he spoke, and it sent shivers through me. I chewed my lip more. To tease, or to soothe myself, I couldn’t be sure. He’s switched up again, demanding of me, that whimpering neediness hidden once more.Interesting.

“A—Angel. Now.” He stepped closer to me, one slow step that made me gasp, made my lip pop free. Spit slicked and sensitive. I’d always had such big lips, had to work to love them, but as an adult, I did. They looked amazing painted red or shining with lip gloss under the stage lights.

I rolled my lips together, holding my breath. The urge to be bad for him grew, to go against his wishes and be naughty. What would he do? Would hepunishme? Isqueezed my cock through the wet lace, cupping it, and dragged my teeth across my bottom lip again.

“Please be good for me, baby,” he whispered, stepping into my space and running his nose along mine. I kept my lip between my teeth as he sighed and rested his thumb on my chin, just below my mouth. “Be good for me, my angel. Let that lip go.”

He tugged my chin down and my lip popped free. Before I could react, he was kissing me again. Groaning into my mouth as he forced his tongue in.

“Fuck, you taste so good. I want to drown you in syrup and cream and lick it all back up,” he said into my mouth between licks and bites and kisses. “I want to fuck my cum into you and eat it back out, share it with you. I bet your cum is delicious, musky and salty and all you.”

“Please,” I cried, desperate in that moment to know his name. “I want you inside me now.”

“Turn around.”

When I didn’t do as he asked, still kissing him, smearing his face paint into a gray mess, he forced me to turn, twisting my body and pushing my back so I fell onto the chaise, bent at the hips with my ass presented to him. Still framed in the lace jock strap, I was so wonderfully exposed.

I heard him work up a glob of spit, and a second later it landed wet on my hole.

“I don’t have lube,” he said. “But I want to take you raw, anyway. Make it hurt a little. I bet you’ve had plenty in here before, huh?” he asked, his finger scooping the trail of his spit from my taint and swirling it around my still slick ass hole.

I twitched, his question throwing me for a moment. He sounded possessive, irritated, even.

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