Page 75 of Be Your Anything
“Is that a problem?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” I reply. Then I spin my finger to indicate she should continue following my directions.
She gives me a little eye roll, and I can’t tell if she’s being her faux self or her real self, but either way, I love when she’s sassy and doesn’t take herself too seriously.
Flipping around, she drops down onto all fours, then reaches back and flips up her little skirt, baring herself for me. She sets her legs wide and gives me a sultry stare over her shoulder.
“Are you gonna fuck me now, Mr. Pearson? Will you help me be a bad girl?”
I squeeze my dick, trying to rein myself in, not wanting to embarrass myself or for this to be over too quickly. First with those fucking boots. Then the no bra, and now with the bad girl stuff? Tonight is too much.
My hands reach for her ass, span over her hips, and I tug her a little closer to me. I take myself in hand, notch against her entrance, and then take a deep breath and look her in the eyes from where she’s looking at me over her shoulder.
“Brace yourself, bad girl.”
And then I slam into her.
Usually, I give us a moment when I slip between her legs. I’m not massive, but I’ve never had complaints. Lennon, on the other hand, is a tiny little thing, and we both usually need a moment to adjust once I’m fully in.
Not tonight.
Tonight, with that first rock into her, I draw back and do it again.
And again.
And again.
I can see Lennon’s fingers digging into the white rug, feel the way her pussy locks up then releases then locks up again, hear her hard pants of breath, her cries of pleasure and surprise at the way I’m taking her.
Because that’s what I’m doing.
I’m taking her.
Like a savage.
Pummeling into her and claiming her body for myself.
“Oh my god, yes,” she shouts out, drawing out the last word as I continue to take and take and take.
I pull her up so she’s still on her knees but her back is pressed to my front, and I wrap both arms around her waist, one coming up to rest tauntingly against the base of her throat, the other dropping down to slip between her lips, rubbing against her clit.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, and I feel her pussy flutter around me.
She clutches at the hand resting against her neck, and I worry I’ve pushed too far.
But then she shocks the hell out of me by squeezing my hand—once, twice—and when I tighten my grip on her neck, her hands fall away.
“Yes,” she says, though I barely hear her.
I tighten my grip again, still pumping in and out.
That’s when I feel it—the first tremor of her orgasm, right there for the taking.
I double my efforts, drawing her closer, holding her tighter, gripping her firmer. She’s panting and moaning, her fingers resting on my thighs, her nails digging into my skin while I batter into her over and over and over.
“Lucas!” she cries out, and then her pussy clamps down on me, squeezes me with so much force I fear I might black out.
We both still as she tumbles over and the zing in my spine takes that moment to race through me.
