Page 19 of My Secret Santa Dallas

“I’m fucked.” I sighed, but the worst thing about this was… I still wanted Blair.

It made no sense, but when did emotions ever link with logic? Didn’t someone say hate sex was some of the best sex around? I didn’t know, but I’d assume if I wanted to work out my frustrations with her, I’d work it out on her… inside her.

I reached for the liquid soap and scrubbed my hair clean with a handful before rubbing the suds over my chest.

She’d tasted like sweet tea and something spicy. One thing I learned about her at that moment was that she was no demure damsel. Blair had damned well kissed me back with as much intensity as I’d kissed her.

My cock began to harden the more I thought about her, and with little more than five seconds of resistance, I grasped the base of my cock and stroked the length casually, imagining what she looked like out of those clothes.

Firm tits with dark pink nipples, big enough to fill my hands, check; a flat belly probably leading to a waxed pussy with tan lines, check; and long legs I’d throw over my shoulders, double check.

But first…

I’d sit down on the bed, exposing my thick shaft, and motion her to me. “Get on your knees. I want your mouth on me.”

She’d walk over, swaying her hips sensually, before sinking to her knees. Leaning back, I reached out of her hair, ripped the tie out, and dug my hand into those silver locks. “Suck my cock.”

I wanted to see her part those smart lips andfix them over my cock. She’d lick me first, teasing the pre-cum from my hard cock, gliding her lips over my shaft. She’d flutter her tongue over the frenulum.

“Suck me.”

My hand shuttled over my cock faster.

She’d stick the thick mushroom-flared head into her mouth, her hand working the thick base where her mouth couldn’t fit. Together they moved up and down, my cock dripping with precum.

“Is your pussy wet, Blair? How bad do you want my cock?”

Slapping a hand against the wet tile, my head bowed under the spray. The fantasy got vivid and tactile enough that I could touch it and even feel it.

“Get up. Straddle me. Fuck yourself.”

She pulled off slowly, caressing my cock with her tongue, moaning as she popped off the weeping head. She’d take my cock in one hand as she blindly climbed on top of me and rubbed her moist pussy over my cock.

Grabbing her hips, I waited for her to descend onto my hard cock, letting it fill her completely, my cock strangled by her tight pussy. She ground herself onto my thick base and grunted. I held her and began thrusting into her— hard.

I didn’t want this to be slow; this wasn’t love-making. This wasn’t a tender, breast-sucking, body-worshiping sex; this was a rough fuck.

The harder I took her, the more she gushed with wetness, my hand in her hair tightly controlling her, my hips slapping her soft, silky, tender pussy. Unable to deny her as her need and passion were so pure.

My balls were burning with the need to come.

Soon, the only sounds in the room were her whimpers,our groans and grunts, our panting breaths, and the slapping of our bodies coming together at an almost frantic pace.

“Give it to me, Blair.” I’d growl. “Shower my cock with your pussy. Come harder than you’d ever come before.”

“Fuck, yes,” she’d cry out hoarsely, her body trembling violently, her pussy clenching tightly. She’d scrape her nails down my chest, down my back, the scores of red welts rising.

“Fuck!” I’d bellow beneath her, fucking her through her orgasm.

It was animalistic, feral, savage. It was everything… fucking everything. I’d use my grip on her hair to lift her, her back arching between us, my lips brushing against her shoulder before my teeth sunk in. The sharp sting prolonged her orgasm.

“Fuck!” I shouted into the steamy bathroom, slamming my fist against the hard tiles of the shower as the pleasure barreled through me, my fingers around my stiff penis.

I closed my eyes, head resting on the now-cool tiles— the water was running cold. When I opened my eyes again, this was not going to go well. I knew it.

“You’re a big boy, Dallas.” I finished washing. “You can face this.”

Dressed in a pair of boxers and a pair of loose flannel PJs, I dropped into the bed and checked my phone. I reached out to one guy from work whom I considered a friend and with whom I had worked with who on a couple of projects.

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