Page 73 of Between Love and Loathing
Fuck, her pussy felt good. It felt like it was made for me, like she’d been designed by the very best to fit my every need.
Her words were gasoline to my already on-fire obsession with fucking her. I stepped back, pulling myself from her to stare at her sex. She didn’t close her legs, didn’t hide herself now. She just glared at me. “What are you doing?”
“Staring at what’s mine, thinking I should have been fucking that pretty pink pussy the whole time.”
“You aren’t done fucking me yet.” She lifted a brow.
I hummed low and I loved that she shuddered with the sound. “You want me, baby? Take me exactly how you want then.”
Her emerald eyes widened as I sat down in my chair again, my cock glistening with her slick, shiny arousal. I flexed it and her eyes immediately locked on to it.
“Come sit on my lap, baby. Put your little pussy on me and ride my dick like you want to.”
She slid off the desk slowly, like she was mesmerized with the sight in front of her. Her tits bounced when she hit the ground, her hips flared out from her waist and swayed as she took the two steps to me before climbing onto my lap. Without hesitating, she sheathed herself on me fast and hard. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” She murmured, riding me fast, her pussy so tight that every muscle in my neck, my back, and my whole fucking body strained not to come in her right then and there.
Her hands used my shoulders as leverage, the nails digging in tight as she moved faster, her hair swaying fast over her tits, her eyes drifting closed. Her pouty mouth formed an O as her ass and pussy bounced up and down on my lap until that final moment.
She shifted back, her gaze on mine fast as she took my cock, pulled me from her body, and squeezed as she cried out.
Seeing her lose it, having her hand milking my cock as she pointed it toward her stomach had me coming hard. I shot myself out over her stomach, unable to control myself for a second longer as her arousal gushed onto my leg. My hand went to her pussy immediately, wanting her on me as much as I was on her.
We marked each other, and a primal part of me loved it, relished in knowing I’d brought this need out of her. She’d wanted this, wanted me on her as if she couldn’t have it any other way. I ran my fingers over her again and again letting her ride out the aftershocks. All the while, I smoothed my other hand over her stomach, rubbing myself into her skin. “You’re mine, little fighter. No one else’s. Do you understand? I should leave my cum on you as a reminder.”
She slumped against me and nodded over and over. “Maybe but this relationship is–”
“I’m taking you to your bed,” I cut her off. I didn’t want to know what she was going to say because suddenly I was sure that this was a relationship, that I’d created something authentic with her, something I wouldn’t be able to back away from clean and easy.
I didn’t want to.
I put her to bed that night and tried my damn hardest not to crawl into it with her. It’d been my own rule once before and now I fucking hated that I was having a problem following through with it when it came to her.
That night, I tossed and turned thinking of her down the hall and hoped once I woke the next morning, it’d be better. I got to have sex with her. That should have gotten her out of my system.
It didn’t.
* * *
Of courseI still expected a little bit of a disruption from Clara moving in the next morning. I told myself it would showcase why we actually would never work; it would be a reason as to why I needed to keep her and everyone at arm’s length.
And disrupt she did. Like a storm barreling ashore, she hit me like a tsunami.
The next day, she padded into my study and grumbled, “Until this facade of a relationship is over, I’ll stay. Then, I’m out with Sugar and Spice.”
I petted both cats that had already claimed my lap in the study while I sat at the desk and worked. “Fine.”
“Are you wearing sweats?” She sounded completely bewildered.
“Sure. It’s my house.”
Then a frown formed. “And a T-shirt?”
I lifted a brow. “You’ve seen me in Florida working out, Clara.”
“I know. But here… you’re always in a suit.”
“Again, I’m at home.” I shrugged and eyed her attire. “Are you wearing a sleepshirt?”
She crossed her arms and popped a hip. “I just woke up because …” Her face turned a bright red, and I smirked. She shook her head at me, her long red hair swinging back and forth in disarray, like I’d fucked the well put together out of her last night.
