Page 68 of Cannon
“Please what?” I demanded, my fingers finding the lace of her panties, already damp with her arousal. “Please stop? Or please fuck you right here on this bar to remind you who you belong to?”
She didn’t answer, just whimpered as I tore her panties aside, exposing her wet pussy to the cool air of the empty club. I unzipped my pants, freeing my dick, rock-hard and throbbing.
“Answer me,” I demanded, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “You want this dick or not?”
“Yes,” she finally gasped, her voice breaking. “Yes, I want it.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said, positioning myself at her entrance. “You’ve been wet for me all night, haven’t you? Even while you were playing boss bitch, pretending you didn’t need me.”
I thrust into her with one brutal stroke, burying myself deep. She cried out, her walls clenching around me, holding me tight. I held still, savoring the feeling of her tight pussy stretched around my dick.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my grip tightening in her hair. “This what you needed, Queen? To be put in your place?”
“Yes,” she moaned, trying to move against me, desperate for friction. “Please, Cannon.”
I started moving then, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each thrust harder than the last. The bottles behind the bar rattled with the force of our fucking, glasses tinkling like wind chimes.
“You think any other nigga could fuck you like this?” I growled, my free hand reaching around to rub her clit. “You think any man could make you feel what I make you feel?”
“No,” she gasped, her body trembling as I worked her clit in tight circles. “Only you, Cannon. Only you.”
I pulled out suddenly, spinning her around to face me. Her makeup was smeared, her lips parted, eyes glazed with lust. I lifted her onto the bar top, shoving aside bottles and glasses to make room.
“Spread your legs,” I commanded. “I need to see that pretty face when you come on my dick.”
She obeyed instantly, opening herself to me, her pussy glistening in the dim light. I stepped between her thighs, guiding my dick back inside her with one smooth thrust.
“Oh God,” she moaned, her head falling back, exposing the long line of her throat.
I wrapped my hand around that throat again, not squeezing, just holding, reminding her who was in control. My other hand gripped her hip, pulling her against me as I fucked her hard and deep.
“Look at me,” I demanded, feeling her getting closer to the edge, her walls fluttering around me. “I want you to see who’s making you feel this good.”
Her eyes locked onto mine, vulnerable and open in a way I’d never seen before. Something shifted between us, something deeper than just sex.
“I’m gonna handle Smoke,” I told her, my voice rough with exertion. “And anyone else who threatens what’s mine. You understand me?”
She nodded frantically, her hands clutching at my shoulders. “Yes, yes, I understand.”
“Good girl,” I praised, increasing my pace as I felt my own release building. “Now come for me. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”
As if on command, she shattered, her back arching off the bar as her orgasm tore through her. Her pussy clamped down on my dick like a fist, milking me, pushing me toward the edge.
“Fuck,” I groaned, burying myself deep as I came, filling her with pulse after pulse of hot cum.
For a moment, we stayed frozen like that, both of us panting, her legs still wrapped around my waist, my hand still gently holding her throat. Then slowly, I released her, helping her sit up on the bar.
Her eyes met mine, no longer afraid or defensive, but clear and somehow softer than before.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching up to touch my face. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough.”
I caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Don’t ever doubt me again. Smoke is nothing. Nothing compared to what I can do, what I will do to protect you.”
She nodded, something like wonder crossing her features. “I believe you.”
I helped her down from the bar, both of us adjusting our clothes in the aftermath. The club was a mess, glasses broken, bottles knocked over, liquor spilled across the floor, but neither of us cared.
I helped her stand, turning her to face me. Her makeup was smeared, her hair a wild mess from my hands, her dress still bunched around her waist. She’d never looked more beautiful.
