Page 215 of S is for SEX

“Should have stayed down,” he said as he grabbed a handful of my hair.

“You gonna fuck me this time, or play around like you did last time?” I asked.

He pulled my hair tight, causing me to arch my back and tilt my head rearward. As he pushed my chest into the glass, he pressed his lips to my ear and exhaled sharply.

“Pardon me?” he breathed.

The strain on my hair was almost enough to make my eyes water, and I fucking loved it. I clenched my teeth to ease the pain and responded.

“You gonna fuck me this time, little boy?” I grunted.

The inside of each of my new Red Bottoms was quickly smacked with the edge of his dress shoe, causing my legs to go wide. Still pulling against my hair, he pressed his other hand against the center of my back. I eagerly bent at the waist and hiked my little ass in the air.

I knew he had every intention of teaching me a lesson. If I kept my mouth shut, and was a good girl for the next thirty minutes, I felt I may be able to walk to the car when he was done with me. But my personality wouldn’t allow it.

After all, I’m Stevie Satterfield, and I’m a smart-assed bitch.

As I felt his cock begin to slide inside of my throbbing pussy, I worked my feet from my heels and kicked them to the side.

“Slipped on those heels earlier and fell on my ass,” I said through my clenched teeth.

“Now fuck me this time, or lose me forever,” I growled.

An hour and a half later, when he was done with me, he carried me to his room and carefully placed me in the master bath.

Not because he was kind. He was kind, but that wasn’t the reason.

I couldn’t walk.

Or talk.

Or feel my legs.

And I loved him for it.

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