Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(77)
“I don’t think I said you could call me Jess.”
“I don’t think I need your permission.” I grab the little plastic fastener between her breasts and pop it just right. The mounds fall forward and down, no longer propped up by the bra. They’re big and round and warm and alive, and I like them so much better like this. Free. Naked. And out there where I can taste them.
She jumps when my teeth close on her nipple. I’m not biting that hard—it’s not like I’m going to draw blood or anything—but she’s so revved right now I bet she would’ve done the same thing if I’d just touched her. I press a little harder just to see what happens. Her hands grab at my hair as if to pull me back, and then stop. Ah, good. She likes this.
With one hand, I lift the breast I’m biting, feeling the heavy softness against my palm. What is it about a woman’s tits that can make my brain scramble? Or, for that matter, a woman’s anything. Her mouth, her eyes, the curve of her neck, the rich, musky smell of her cunt. I want all of it. Every inch. Under my hands, my tongue. Surrounding my dick.
I rock forward in the space between her thighs, rubbing my erection against the wet heat of her ruined panties. She’s grabbing at me again, pulling me closer, scraping down my back with her nails. It hurts; I love it. Her fingers find the back of my waistband and track forward, stopping at the fly.
While she’s dealing with that, I take more of her breast into my mouth and reach between her legs with my free hand. Those panties don’t necessarily have to go, but they’re definitely in the way at the moment. I push them aside, and my fingers find the heat and the slickness hidden behind them. There’s hair on her pussy—I like that—and my fingers slide against her inner lips until they slip right into her, deep.
She gasps, arching her back and looking down. I push harder. Inside she’s tight and hot and so wet I feel like she might drag my whole hand inside her with that shaking, grasping cunt. God, I want my dick inside her. Now.
She’s gotten distracted, though, and hasn’t finished undoing my pants. Reluctantly I let go of her breast and reach down to take care of that little detail myself. Even I have issues, though, and my fingers fumble on the zipper.
I can only get my pants down past my hips, but it’s enough, and when my cock springs free it makes a light slapping sound against her belly. She reaches down and grabs it. Nails again, biting into the delicate skin. It’s my turn to gasp, then growl, then bite my lip. Then bite her lip. She chuckles.
“Too much for you, big boy?” Her fist closes tight around my engorged shaft, her thumb sliding over the glans, where pre-come has already made it slick and ready. I can smell the deep musk of her arousal, the tangier scent of my own.
“Too much for you?” I ask as she strokes down my cock, fingers bumping over the big veins.
“I don’t think so.”
I know damn well I’ve got more than most guys can even hope for, and she’s going to feel it. I want to challenge her smugness, her little acts of aggression. “You sure about that?”
Nothing I say seems to faze her though. Reaching back, she squeezes my balls, and I have to clench my teeth to keep from unloading all over her. That’s not the goal here. “You ready for that condom?”
Right. The condom. She took it; what did she do with it? But I hear the foil tear open, and a moment later the ring of the condom touches the over-sensitized skin of my glans. She sets it on just right, rolls it down, and then moves my cock toward her pussy.
I stop her with one hand. “I think I said I was going to fuck you from behind.”
Her eyes gleam. She’s so ready. “You do whatever you want, Cain.”
“Damn fucking straight I will.” I step back, grab her by the waist, and put her down on her belly on the counter. And take her.
God fucking damn. Jesus Christ, she’s so hot. Wet, slick, and tight as the fist she had around me just a few seconds ago. That cunt squeezes any harder on me and I might not be able to get my dick back out at all. But I shove into her hard, feeling the full depth of her. She lets out a sharp cry than warbles into a long moan.
Yeah, that sounds about right. I grab her hips and lean over her.
“You’re going to feel this,” I tell her. “You’re going to taste my come. You’re going to feel my cock in the back of your throat. You’re still going to feel my dick tomorrow.”
She grates out a groan, then, “Shut up and fuck me, you asshole.”
I clench my teeth in a grin. Guess I should do what the lady says. I pound her, watching the soft bounce of her ass, the straining of her thighs. Her toes barely touch the floor, and she’s having a hard time keeping herself grounded. That’s fine. She doesn’t need to be grounded. Doesn’t need control. The tight, sucking, slapping sound of our bodies meshing and meeting each other fills the room, and a violent heat pounds up my dick, into the small of my back, up my spine.