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5
RAVEN
It works.Whatever he does, it fucking works. Because it’s him. He’s doing it, and he’s gotten under my skin somehow.
I like to be fucked by him.
I enjoy it so much my center is soaking wet. I smell my arousal, and he must notice it, too.
Our pure fucking is impersonal, filthy, and mechanical, in a way.
We are like two actors in front of a camera, although we have a connection. A twisted one, but still a connection.
I love it. I love it at the moment, and that speaks of my dark side as much as it speaks of his.
I love it so much that I slide lower to be even more open for him, and that gets him. I can see it on his face and in his eyes.
The wall table is not wide enough, so I lie on my back, and it frustrates him tremendously, but he doesn’t do a damn thing about it because he likes me like that.
I can’t get more submissive than that.
Well, I can, but still… This is something we’re experiencing for the first time, not because we’ve planned to, but because the events have pushed us to this point.
He runs his thumb up and down my clit before he starts circling it. I like to watch his fingers slide over my sensitive nub and his cock move in and out of me.
My legs are locked around his waist when he squeezes my chest with his free hand.
We can’t do this for long because my legs have no support, so he pulls back, his hard dick bouncing as he moves, and yanks me off the table.
My things and purse end up on the floor after he sweeps the bed with his hand. Phone, bag, lipstick, wallet, key card.
They’re scattered all over the floor.
He lets me down, nudges me to all fours, and pulls my bottom up while positioning himself behind me.
I see him in the mirror.
His back arched, his cock out, and his pants barely clinging to his hips.
He slides his thumb inside my butt before pushing his hard-on into my center.
Once he has me linked to him like that, he moves his other hand to my clit.
First, he pulls me into him as much as possible, and then he strokes me.
Again.
Going through the motions.
Fucking me as if he wants to get the most out of his money.
It should hurt emotionally. It doesn’t. Not for the moment, anyway.
Maybe I’m twisted.
Maybe I’m in denial.
Or maybe I’m masochistic like him.
