"Leave it." I prop my hand on my hip and wait expectantly.
"That's cute. Move your sweet little ass out of the way." I stand back in surprise as he kicks the door open and walks right in. "Could have used my key, but my hands were full. Lock it, will you, kitten?"
"Why do you keep calling me that?" I do as he says, half annoyed, half turned on. Did he kick in my door to bring me food? Talk about a wet dream.
He places the bags of food on the table and I walk over, reaching out to open them up. But before I can, Captain is in front of me, pushing me back against the wall and placing his hands on either side of my head.
"What the-"
My words are cut off as he leans down and places a soft kiss on my neck. The warm sensation sends a shiver all over my body, and without thinking I tilt my head to give him more of my skin. The slick heat of his tongue trails down to my collarbone, and a pulse thrums between my legs. My hands move to his chest, feeling the ridges of his pecs, and I run my palm across his dress shirt. His nipples harden at my touch, and I wonder if he's getting hard anywhere else. He presses his lower body against me, and I know exactly where he's affected the most. I push my hips forward, trying to mold our bottom halves together, forgetting every reason I've ever had for not wanting to be with him.
"I keep calling you kitten," he says, pulling one of my legs up his hip so my pussy is rubbing against his thigh, "because it gets you wet."
The shudder of my breath does nothing to disprove his theory as he starts to move me up and down his leg. Captain has never talked dirty like that to me before. He's made it known he wants me, but he's normally a gentleman about it. This is different. It's dirty. And a small part of me likes the idea that maybe he just does dirty with me. That something about me makes him talk to me that way. That he can't control himself and I bring out his barbaric side.
He grasps my hips and guides me over the hard ridges of his upper thigh. The width of it opens me up, and even though we're both wearing pants, it's the perfect pressure in the perfect place. He's controlling my movements, but it's exactly what I want, so I don't stop him. His mouth is at my neck, and I move my fingers from his chest to his hair so I can hold his mouth in place.
His grip on my hips is nearly painful, and I know he's going to leave marks on me. I should care, but instead all it does is ratchet up my desire, and I give in to what he wants. His back and arms flex and strain with his effort, and I feel like he's a caged beast waiting to be unleashed. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know this is crazy, but it feels too goddamn good to stop him.
"Ryan," I whisper, and I let my head fall back against the wall.
The delicious pressure building between my legs as Captain makes me hump his leg is too much, and I explode. The orgasm rips through me, and I scream with pleasure. I come as I cling to him, and let him use my body the way he sees fit. This wasn't planned or thought out; he came in and took from me what he wanted. Something about the loss of control is so freeing, and I ride the wave of pleasure and try not to analyze it.
He licks a place on my neck and it feels tender, like maybe he bit me, but I was too busy climaxing to notice. I don't really care, now that I'm in blissful paradise. He places soft kisses all the way up to my ear, and I hum in contentment.
He pulls back a little to look down at me, and those forest-green eyes see straight through to my soul. Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine in a kiss that's more gentle than I would have imagined. I thought he'd be starved to receive his own pleasure, but instead he gives me that one soft kiss and steps away from me.
I miss his warmth the second it's removed, but he reaches out, takes my hand and leads me over to the table. I walk on shaky legs as he sits down and then pulls me onto his lap. The bags of food are in front of us, and he reaches out and opens one, like nothing happened over there against the wall.
Looking to where we were and then back to him, I open my mouth and then close it again, unable to articulate my thoughts. After a few tries, I finally manage a sentence.
"You can't come in here with food and give me an orgasm."
He looks into my eyes and gives me his big, straight-teethed, all-American smile, and I want to slap him. Or maybe kiss him. Just for letting me know he can come here and do just that.
"I got you a foot-long meatball sub some fries and cheesecake. Next time, I'll feed you first. You're hangry."
My lower half grumbles from being hungry and then clenches at the thought of more pleasure. I slip forward, plop down on the seat beside him and put my feet in his lap. I don't know why I do it, but he smiles at me and rubs them while I eat.