Page 125 of Raise Hell
“You’re impossible,” he said. “Impossible and demanding and frustrating. You’re highly strung, Faye, the slightest thing and you’re off like a rocket, dramatic and hysterical and so fucking annoying. I’m perplexed, genuinely. I don’t know why there has to be such fucking extremes, such impossibilities. You make life so pissing difficult, Faye, so complicated, and it doesn’t need to be. It could be so simple.”
“You came in here just to tell me that, did you?” I snapped. “You could have waited until tomorrow, when we got to work and I actually get paid to listen to your shit.”
“Shut up, Faye. Just shut the fuck up for once.” His voice was low and dangerous, and my toes curled on instinct. His weight shifted in a heartbeat, and he was hot, his body pressed tight to my side. “We both know why I came in here.”
The faintest, most pathetic little gasp came from my mouth, and his mouth was waiting. I pressed my lips to his, and my arms curled around his neck, guiding him onto me. My legs wrapped around his waist, his cock hard against my belly.
“What do you want me to do?” I whispered between kisses. “It’s your week… I won’t argue…”
“Fuck the week,” he said. “And the coin toss stays in the club, remember?”
It was music to my ears. Oh God, how I kissed that stupid, annoying man. I kissed him like I wanted to punish him, like I wanted it to hurt, but he wasn’t any better. He pinned my shoulders to the mattress, and his body ground against mine with a need for control at odds with his words.
I dug my fingernails into his shoulder blades, then pulled down, hard enough to leave scratches. It only encouraged him. He grabbed my ankles, and yanked them high, and I braced myself for his cock, expecting the primal thrust that would see me take the whole fucking length of him, but it didn’t arrive. His mouth moved down my neck, hot wet kisses down to my collarbone, and I was gasping for him, arching my back for more.
“You are a fucking nightmare,” he growled, then sucked a nipple into his mouth. He nipped me hard enough that I squeaked, then soothed it with his tongue. “This can never work, Faye. We’re a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Just fuck me,” I hissed. “I don’t even care anymore.”
“Not yet.” I felt his smile against my stomach, then a nuzzle and he was lower, he spread my thighs, hooking one of my legs behind his back as his breath teased my pussy.
“Oh fuck,” I said. “Please…”
His fingers spread me, and I was ready, so fucking ready. He was gentle with his tongue, teasing, flickering everywhere but where I wanted him the most.
“Why did you get pierced?” he asked. “Was it Vincent’s idea?”
“Don’t talk about him,” I snapped. “Jesus, Andy, he’s not fucking pillow talk.”
“It was his idea. I thought so.”
He had no fucking idea.
I held his face to my pussy, gripped him tight with my thighs. “Lick me,” I said. “Or bite me. I don’t fucking care, just shut up and do it.” He did a combination of both, and it felt fucking wonderful. Two fingers, and they curled inside me, hard, grinding at the right spot. I squirmed. “Fuck, Andy, I’m not going to last long…”
I pressed my feet flat to his back, levering against him. My ass left the bed, and his mouth moved with me. I could hear myself, so wet. You’d think I hadn’t been fucked for a whole fucking year.
His mouth was incredible, hot and needy and desperate. He sucked my clit until my hands were clasped around his head, he sucked until I moaned like a whore, and his fingers fucked me, so hard that my stomach began to ache as the tides rode in. This was going to be a big one.
“I’m going to… oh fuck, Andy, I’m going to…”
My pussy tensed, and his fingers were so strong, pressing just right, just fucking right. I moved against him, and he met me, his movements mirroring mine while I began to uncoil.
“Fuck!” I hissed. “Andy… don’t stop… I’m…”
The world turned white. I lost it, thrashing and bucking and squealing as my pussy went into spasms. And it was wet. Really wet. Too wet. He groaned, and it was a delicious sound, and then I was off again, squealing and writhing and losing my fucking mind.
I shuddered as I came down, over and over. He climbed up alongside me and kissed me with a mouth that tasted of me.
“Did I just…” I began through ragged breath.
“It was perfect,” he smiled. “Jesus, Faye, you came like a fucking train.”
I looked at him through hazy eyes, and he looked amazing. “Fuck me,” I said. “Please fuck me.”
He didn’t need asking twice, sliding his cock inside me in one long stroke. I was ready, so ready I gasped at the sensation. He adjusted position, pressing my knees up to my chest, and he took me slow, slow and deep. I gripped at the sheets under me as the pressure started to rebuild.
His balls were heavy, slapping against my ass as he picked up pace, and it felt so right this way. I coaxed him, needing him, needing more, and he gave me more, hard and fast, and I jerked underneath him as he pumped and grunted and his body took its release within mine. Hearing him come in the quiet of the bedroom was divine. It felt different here, so different, so much more intimate. The thought made my stomach lurch.