Our clothes get tossed all over the kitchen. When Louis gets like this, I feel more alive than I ever have. He’s wild and unruly, so unlike his normal self. Part of me loves it for the pleasure, the rest of me loves it because I know I’m the only person who gets to see this side of him.
Well, maybe this side of him will have a part to play in the ring.
A pan crashes to the floor as I swipe the counter.
Louis pins my legs over his shoulders, panting and smiling and licking his hand before running it over my clit. I lean back, wide-eyed, watching his thick clock slide perfectly into me. My toes curl, and I cry out without regard for my neighbors.
At least the windows are closed.
Words leave my lips before I process them, “You’re gonna win… you’re gonna win that fucking fight for me.”
Louis looks stunned in the best way possible. His hips work harder, slapping against my thighs and making me moan.
“Yeah?” I coo. “You like that?”
“Fuck yeah…”
I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He backs up, carrying me in the middle of the kitchen, hiking me up in his arms with his hands firmly filled with my ass.
“Fuck me like you’re gonna win…”
He licks his lips, practically gnawing at me.
“Fuck me like you’re gonna knock him out… first fucking round…”
Harder and harder. I’ve never imagined being drilled so savagely. It’s like he owns my body, like every punch he’s ever thrown was leading him to me. If Louis trains harder than anyone I’ve ever seen, he screws me like he’s hell bent on making me see stars.
“Louis! Louis!” I hold his face in my hands, moaning onto his lips as I bounce on his perfect cock. “Right there! Don’t stop!”
“Cum for me,” he growls, holding my gaze, fingers burying themselves in my flesh. “You gonna cum? You gonna cum all over me? I fucking want it. Right now. You know I’m not stopping until I get it…”
He figured out the magic words a week ago, and he hasn’t stopped.
“OH! OH! LOUIS!”
I go rigid and limp all at the same time, quaking in his arms, feet splaying out in search of some support they never find. Instead, I hold onto him like a sailor lashed to the mast during a storm, completely drowning in the deluge of pleasure he’s given me.
It’s funny, thinking about our first time in the gym when his legs gave out. Now, I’m sure he could pound me like this for an hour and never give up, never back down an inch.
Finally, I slide down his sweaty body, kissing every inch I pass.
He slips out of me, still hard as a rock.
I glance between his legs, shivering, breath shaky.
“My turn—“
Someone knocks on the door.
We pause, both looking toward the pile of shoes in the entryway.
Three more heavy knocks, and then a raging voice, “Catty, open up! I know he’s in there! I know!”
The voice of my brother.
CHAPTER 8
LOUIS
