Page 76 of Passenger Princess

He spit on me.

He spit on me, and…his thumb on his left hand starts to move, pressing in slowly. My eyes drift shut at the feeling of him filling my ass, of being so fucking full of Jaime, at the way my hand is moving on my clit, the way his cock throbs as I fuck myself on it.

"Come for me, Ava." And then his other hand moves, coming down with a loud clap, and I explode.

Too many sensations at once, all-consuming and cracking through me like electricity, and I come, screaming Jaime's name as I shake. Somewhere, I hear Jaime groan as I clamp down on him, seeing stars.

As soon as I come down, he reaches over my back and tugs on my shoulder, so I’m on my hands and knees again. It’s a new angle, and he slams in harder than before, fucking me deep, this time for himself. My mouth drops open, but no noise comes out as he fucks me, as the fire burns, as my head goes a bit lightheaded, but the pleasure builds and builds in my belly once more.

I reach for my clit to take me over the edge, but he slaps the hand down before he pauses when his hips pull out until he’s barely in me, stopping the orgasm that wants to hit like a freight train in its tracks. I mewl in my throat, tipping my hips to try and get more.

He leans down, his chest pressing to my back. “You only come when I tell you to, Ava. That’s what bad girls get,” he says low and rough in my ear. “And you’re going to be my good girl and hold on until I let you come.”

“Jaime,” I moan, both because that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard and because I don’t think there’s any universe where I can hold on much longer. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. For me, Princess, you’ll hold on." His hips move finally, sliding in slow, easy thrusts, endless, dull pleasure crashing through, but not enough—not what I need.

“Jaime, I need?—”

“I know exactly what you need, Ava." His right hand moves, wrapping around my hair and pulling my head back. The pinpricks of pain as he tugs transmit right to my pussy as he starts to fuck me hard again, as pleasure twines and twines with the tug on my hair, gasoline for the orgasm of a lifetime. When his hips hit deep and grind into me, it starts to spark and…

And he fucking stops, his hand releasing my hair, his cock sliding half out and stilling.

“Jaime!” I shout, looking over my shoulder at him. "Please."

“You look so pretty begging me, Ava.”

“I can’t—” I say on a near sob, and the hand on my throat moves gently, skating down my neck, over my chest until he cups a breast gently.

“You can,” he repeats, his finger rolling my nipple, and he slides in slowly, filling me to the hilt before sliding out once more. The hand on my breast moves down again to rub my clit, the hand on the couch next to mine holding his weight as he does. My body aches, forcing him to slide in deeper, and I scream, but it’s not enough, just featherlight touches against my oversensitive clit.

“Jaime, Jaime. Please.“ I can barely choose words in my brain, much less conjure full sentences, when all my brain can think about is how good he feels, how much torture this is, and the now constant pulsing in my clit.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, sliding in and out and moving his hand up my body, pinching my nipple again. “I’m gonna fill you, Ava, as soon as you come for me. Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his body over mine as he bucks into me, fucking me hard, before finally, finally, slamming in deep and holding there, the hand on my nipple moving to my clit and rubbing as I shatter around him.

I come and I come, my entire body bucking into his as he groansmy name loudly into my neck, filling me with his cum. He keeps slowly sliding in and out of me, his fingers on my clit, pulling one last orgasm from my body as he whispers hot words in my ear, but the last one is slower, softer, and somehow sweeter.

Silence takes over the hotel room before, finally, still inside me and with smugness in his words, Jaime speaks. “I told you we could make doggy work."

And then I burst into laughter.

THIRTY-SIX

AVA

We lay like that for long minutes with Jaime's body lying over mine on the arm of the couch while I come down from my high before I whisper, "I should go clean up."

He nods and rolls off of me.

Quickly, I move to the bathroom, cleaning up and fixing my smeared makeup before staring in the mirror, a wash of panic and confusion taking over me.

What’s next?

Do I walk back into the living area? Do I go to my room? Do I ignore him? Do I walk in there and kiss him? Was this a one-time, get-it-out-of-our-systems thing?

A million questions run through me, but one is loudest in my mind: What amIdoing?

I don'tdoself-conscious.

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