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I force her head in place, making her mouth stretch around me, and I honestly don’t know what’s better. Me guiding her to follow my command, the picture of her head bobbing as she takes me deep, or the feel of her mouth wrapped tight around my cock.
Shit, they’re all fucking beyond spectacular. I sip my drink as she sucks me down. I wind her hair around my other hand, using her as my own personal pleasure center. I slowly begin to thrust into her mouth until I’m hitting the back of her throat. When she chokes and gags on me, I almost come.
Her mouth is tight and wet and she sucks me hard. The stroke of her tongue on the underside makes me shudder. I pull her up and then push her all the way down, but she resists.
At first, I think it’s her fighting me so she can breathe, so I loosen my hold—I’m not ready to do breath play with her yet.
While I think about all the things I want to do to her—tie her up and blindfold her, or maybe fuck her face in an alley where anyone can see us—she dives back down on me.
A thrill so bright slices down into my bones.
Scarlett’s not fighting, she’s just out of sync.
I let her dive down, I let her fuck her throat on my cock. My balls climb and tighten, and the urge to grab the pleasure of release is there, so close, that I grab her head and push her, holding her as I let go, filling her mouth.
Oh, fuck, oh my fucking God, her mouth, her throat, they’re so fucking good. I hold her in place. She starts to struggle as she swallows the hot spurts of cum, my cock jerking as the release crashes over me. When I finally let go of her head, I pull her up to my lap so she has to climb on me.
My hand’s still tight in her hair as I bring her close and kiss her. It’s all-consuming, filled with the promise of filth and heat and sex. I can taste the rum and the sweetness that’s Scarlett, as well as the tang of my cum on her tongue. Christ, I’m still half-hard and ready for more.
I want to throw her down and fuck her senseless, but I only said scenic route. That won’t give me the amount of time I need to claim her sweet pussy. We’ll be back at the penthouse soon.
Besides, I don’t actually want to fuck her in the back of a limo like a rich teenage douchebag. I want her strapped to my bed, writhing and begging for my cock.
She kisses me back, a desperate sob of a kiss, one of need, of the pent-up frustrations that I didn’t fuck her, of loathing toward herself and me, and the chaotic fallout of her version of sub.
I don’t want a normal sub.
Most times, they’ll do. They have in the past.
The pain queens and women with all kinds of kinks and fetishes.
I’ve had them all. I gravitate to them.
But I know why I felt a pull to this one in particular, my enemy’s daughter, a girl I don’t like on principle because of her DNA, one who hates the fuck out of me, maybe almost as much as she lusts for me.
She’s her own kind of sub. A little bit of everything. She’s chaos personified because she isn’t playing when she drops to her knees, when she snaps her snarky comments at me, when she gives in, and when she fights.
She’s the whole package.
I keep kissing her and it’s feral and wild and so damn hot. I bite her lower lip and she moans, pulling on my hair.
“When we get back, I’m going to fuck you,” I say, rocking her wet cunt against my fully hard cock. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll have problems walking tomorrow.”
She responds by biting my neck. It’s hard, a shot of pain that I fucking love. I know she’s caught up in a mix of lust and need, and that headiness of wanting to give and to take so she can fling herself into orgasmic bliss. And in all of that she also wants to hurt me, punish me, make me bleed for that need and lust and want.
The mix of it all is perfection.
What I really want to do when I say “fuck her” is to bring her to the edge of her sanity—tie her up, whip and clamp her, test the perimeters of what kind of hard-core she can take.
I have the equipment. I ordered it all in, special to use on her. I have my own stuff at my actual home, but I never mix the game with real life. My whips and clamps are custom. This shit’s off the rack, an expensive, high-end rack, but…
Yeah, I could fucking go hard-core on her pretty ass.
But I don’t think I will.
What’s that fucking saying about honey over vinegar? In this case, I think I’ll get more if I go unexpectedly soft in that department, a soft-core interlude after me taking her hard anally, making her parade in latex in front of monsters and then coming down her throat.
I know exactly what I’m going to do tonight.
