Page 108 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"Remember what I said." Archer slides up and down my pussy, pushing into my hole but not entirely. "Okay?"

"I remember."

"What did I say?"

"That you respect me." Part of me wishes he would disrespect me, though.

"That's my girl." He lines himself up with my entrance. "Now grab onto the back of the couch."

I grip the edge loosely and he slams into me, sending me forward. I reposition, holding on tighter as he wraps his hands around my thighs and drags me onto him with force.

It takes me a second to adjust to his wrath, but the second I do, I push into him, both of us moaning, his coming out more like grunts, each sound hot as fuck.

"Fuck," I pant, struggling to keep hold while he fucks me hard and fast.

He reaches down, moving my leg to spread me wider, each thrust more intense than the last.

I take every bit of it, not wanting it to stop but aching for a release.

"You're such a slut for me," Archer groans. He rubs my ass before smacking it, this time harder. He smooths his hand over the spot and hits me again.

I respond by slamming into him and arching my back more.

"You like it rough, don't you?" Archer smacks me again, my ass no doubt welting.

"I do," I can barely get out.

"Give me your hands."

I don't even think about it, I just sit up a bit straighter and extend them toward him.

He stops fucking me for a quick moment to grip them both in one of his hands and turn me so my body is horizontal with the couch. Archer shoves my face into the cushion, one of his legs now up on the couch as he holds my hands behind my back and fucks me hard.

My vision blurs and I turn my head, gasping for air, moans leaving my mouth.

Archer rubs my ass, smacking it again, hard, before sliding his thumb over my asshole. He pushes until the tip has penetrated me.

Not for a second do I consider using my safe word, my mind and body desperate for more of whatever he's willing to give me.

"Have you had enough?" he says through grunted thrusts.

"No," I whine.

He shoves into me harder, my face dragging against the cushion. Keeping hold of my hands, he spits onto my ass, rubbing his thumb over my hole and putting it back inside. Archer applies pressure and changes his tempo, fucking me slower, but deeper, slamming into me. His body smacks against mine and I revel in the sensations, all of them so much at once.

I bite down on my lip as an orgasm builds without warning and throws me over the edge. A copper taste fills my mouth, and I tense, but not from the climax still rattling through me.

"What is it?" Archer asks, softening his blows.

"I'm bleeding on your couch." Suddenly, I feel overwhelmed with panic, like he's going to be mad at me for real instead of this play pretend he's doing right now. "I'm sorry."

Archer removes his hands, letting mine fall to my sides, flips me over and picks me up, all of it happening so fast I can barely keep up. He looks into my eyes before sucking my lip into his mouth, my blood now on his lips. "It's just a couch, I don't care." He slides me onto his cock while holding me. "Can you take more or are you done?"

"I'm not done until you are," I tell him. "You need to come, too."

"That's the least of my worries." Archer bucks into me once, stiff and hard, and sets me back down on the couch, pulling himself out of me. Slowly, with his heavy gaze on me, spread eagle on the couch, he unbuttons his shirt and slides it over his broad shoulders, dropping it onto the floor. He unzips his pants the rest of the way, dragging them over his ass and kicking off his shoes. He stands there, stark naked, covered in ink all over.

"God damn you're sexy," I say, my mouth practically hanging open.

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