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Frantically I tear at his shirt, yanking it over his head and raking my nails from his shoulders down his biceps. They’re freaking huge. My hands look tiny against them. I lift my torso so that my mouth can meet his skin, and I sink my teeth into his chest. His groan nearly undoes me. He slides his hands under my ass and lifts my pelvis to meet his. He breaks away from kissing me and stares at me hard.
“Why has this taken so long?” he groans.
“You never asked.”
“Can I fuck you?” he smirks.
I sigh and hit him. “Idiot. That’s the one question you never ask. It’s such a turn-off. Now you’ll have to wait even longer!”
“Fuck that!”
In an instant, he’s on his feet, and I’m in his arms, my legs automatically wrapping themselves around his waist as he slams us against the front door. The impact barely registers as we devour each other like starved beasts. My hands, his lips, our tongues, are everywhere. Frenzied. Rebel uses his hips to pin me against the door, freeing his hands to drag my top up over my head. He tosses it to one side, and as soon as his hands are empty, he’s grabbing my breasts. He gives a grunt of frustration and rips open my front fastening bra, jerking the straps down my arms, before returning to cup my bare flesh.
“Still turned off?” he teases, and I stick my tongue out at him. He captures it between his teeth and gently sucks.
Fuck.
I need him inside me now. I drop my legs from his waist so that I’m standing, and my hands fly to his belt, fumbling to get it undone. He does the same to me, and we’re tearing at each other’s clothes in a race to get naked as quickly as possible.
As soon as we’re naked, he lifts me into his arms again, supporting my ass, lips back on mine with a passion. He walks us into the kitchen and over to the island. Holding me with one arm, he uses the other to sweep the island countertop clean in one swing. Paperwork flies everywhere, and the fruit bowl crashes to the ground, splintering into a thousand pieces while apples, oranges and pears roll everywhere.
Rebel lies me on the counter and kisses his way down my body until he rests between my legs. He doesn’t hesitate, diving in with his tongue to lap at my pussy enthusiastically. He sucks my lips into his mouth and bites down with force, making my back arch up off the cold counter as I cry out. I’m dripping but still so tight as Rebel slowly inserts a finger into me while he sucks and grazes my clit. It’s electric. He adds another and pumps slowly for a beat, before adding a third. It’s too much, and I whimper.
“Shhh baby, trust me, you need this.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I assure him. He doesn’t understand that it feels too good. I don’t want to come. But I know that he’s trying to use his fingers to prepare me for his huge cock, so I let him continue. I might like it rough, but I don’t want to literally be torn in two. I know his cock is at least 10 inches from all the times he’s waved it in my face, but he’s impossibly wide too. Is there such a thing as a cock being too big? Not if he knows how to use it.
When it gets too much - when I’m too close - I sit up, looping my arms around his neck. “I need you in me,” I tell him in a low husky voice. “Now.”
The island is way too high for that - even with Rebel being as tall as he is - so he scoops me back into his arms and looks around for where he can take me. The kitchen’s a no go, with counters lining all the walls. The dining table’s also too high. The floor’s covered in broken glass and crockery - oops - and the hallway’s full of splintered wood. I’m too impatient to make it to the bedroom, kissing and biting his neck as he walks and begging him to fuck me right now.
Quickly he takes us across the hallway into the lounge, pressing me against the one bare wall and gently lowering me down onto his hard cock. That’s the point all thought leaves me; I swear I feel my IQ dwindling as my jaw slackens and my eyes roll back. “Fuck,” I hiss out. I’m convinced I’ve just died and gone to heaven. He lowers me, inch by inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me. I’m deliciously full; stretched and stuffed to the breaking point. If I weren’t so turned on and ready for him, it would be painful. I love it, and he’s not even moving yet.
When I open my eyes, he’s giving me that shit-eating grin of his. Bastard. I squeeze my internal pussy muscles around his mammoth cock and watch this time as his jaw goes slack and profanity falls from his lips. Two can play that game. I grin at him, and it is on. Our brief reprieve from fighting is over, and we recommence with a passion.
He thrusts up into me so hard that I’m pushed up the wall several inches and I cry out. His arms brace against the wall above my shoulders, so I tuck my arms under his to grip on to his back. I bury my nails into his flesh, deep enough to draw blood, and take my nails slowly down his inked skin. He hisses in pain and retaliates by thrusting into me even harder.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” I goad him.
“Challenge accepted, little girl.” He grins wickedly, slamming me to the floor.
Rebel captures my arms down by my sides and pins them by my hips. His hands are so large that he can clamp my wrists in place and hold my hips with a bruising force. I can’t move, forced to absorb every powerful thrust, trapped under him.
I take it - what choice do I have - but I don’t make it easy for him, digging my heels into the carpet to try to buck my hips and knock him off. It doesn’t work, but I enjoy fighting him. He gives a half-amused, half exasperated growl but lets me wiggle free.
We roll continuously, struggling for power and dominance, bodies meeting furiously, relentlessly refusing to give in. Rebel’s cock spears me and stretches me, my pussy squeezes and milks him. We’re well matched. I egg him on, begging him to go harder, faster. He always complies. Our coupling is fast, noisy. Delicious.
Dextrously, his fingers work my clit with finesse while still kissing and thrusting into me. I have to use all my willpower to stave off my orgasm. It’s so hard though. I grab onto his ass and sink my fingers in, leaving ten crescent moon shapes embedded in his toned flesh. The move pulls him closer to me, crushing his fingers so that he can’t massage me any longer.
“Come,” he orders me, breaking apart from an intense kiss.
“Bite me!” He takes that literally, rather than as the ‘fuck’ that I meant it to be,and sinks his teeth roughly into my shoulder. It’s fucking exquisite.
“Come,” he repeats.
“Fuck you, you fucking come.” I’m not giving him my orgasm. No way. That feels too much like giving in, like defeat. I want to be the one who makes him come undone. I want him at my mercy, broken. I can’t lose. But I’m going to have to move fast because I can feel the orgasm approaching and my resolve to fight it slipping.
I indicate to Rebel that I want to shift positions and he takes the hint, rolling us over so that I’m straddling him. I give him bonus points for ensuring he stays buried in me the entire time. Once I’m on top, I put my bring-him-to-his-knees plan into action, and I don’t waste any time in doing it.
