“You can’t do this,” I murmur.
“Who’s gonna stop me?” he says, his thumb stroking my slick cleft.
Arching my back, I manage to raise my head and shoulders a few inches away from the couch, but that pushes my ass and pussy back, right against his hands and his groin. He lets me struggle, and I hear the sound of his zipper being lowered.
“Put your head down.” A condom wrapper sails over the couch and lands on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.
The muscles of my low back burn. I can’t continue to try to rise up or I’ll strain my back. Dropping my torso against the couch, I turn my head, desperately helpless.
My voice is just jagged whispers. “Trick, come on—”
His fingers find my clit and rub. Shuddering, I try to bring my thighs together, but my legs run into his. He’s standing with his feet between mine. And he widens his stance, separating my thighs, keeping me open for himself.
“Is my little girl in the mood to fight? Cause you’re pretty wet for me. I think what you want is my cock inside you.”
I can’t find my voice at first. The truth is I do want him, but I’m also horrified by the way this is playing out. My bucking knees bang the couch, pushing it forward an inch or two, which changes nothing.
His hand swats my ass. “Be still.”
My nipples pinch into hard beads, and my pussy clenches. What is wrong with me? Why does the threat sound so erotic from his wicked mouth? Not that it matters how things are hitting me. His grip on me is absolute. Unless I plan to scream and have a bar full of people discover me draped over the couch with my panties around my knees, I’m stuck.
Trick teases my clit until I’m desperate, my hips restless and pushing back against him, my legs shaking. I’m close to coming on his clever fingers, which has happened so many times before that I recognize the arousal coiling tighter and tighter.
“Do you want me?”
When I’m silent, he slaps my ass.
“Answer me. And be sweet.”
I know what sweet is code for. Do I give him everything he wants?
“Yes, I want you.”
He waits, but I don’t call him Sir. When his cock pushes inside me, my womb and my muscles clench. It feels good, and I push back against him, raising my ass in some primal, slutty invitation. Gripping my hips, he thrusts into me. I groan and come almost instantly, my whole body spasming and shuddering. His possessive grip tightens on my hips as he pumps harder and harder, drawing my orgasm out and leaving me dizzy and breathless as my head hangs upside down. Helpless, a second wave of pleasure grips me and my pussy clutches his cock.
“Mmm.” The satisfied sound comes from deep in his chest, and inside me he’s hard as steel.
He fucks me for an age, and my traitorous body enjoys every second.
Trapped between his body and the couch, I dangle over an abyss. My temperature rises, leaving me flushed and flustered. Trick grinds against the vulnerable cushion of my ass, penetrating me slowly and deeply, pumping against my womb until my belly clenches and aches. My head buzzes from the blood rushing to it, and above me, he thrusts into the spot where I’m soft and wet and willing. Over and over, Trick claims me with a devastating, leisurely thoroughness, until my muscles quiver from straining, until my body shakes like it’s being punished.
Except for ragged breathing, he’s silent as he comes. He releases his firm grip on my hips, and I lower myself from my toes and collapse against the couch. A warm palm squeezes my ass, his thumb stroking my flesh possessively.
When he pulls out, he walks away, leaving me positioned just as I’ve been, my arms still tied behind me so I can’t get up easily. I feel like his property, like the couch I’m lying over, which can’t move unless he moves it.
It’s a few moments before he comes back and lifts me so I’m standing. He releases my arms from his belt and when I look back, his jeans are zipped. He puts his belt on as I pull up my underwear and jeans, moisture coating my lower lips and soaking my panties. I don’t look at him, knowing I’m blushing furiously.
I start to move around him. He turns and I feel his eyes on me, maybe making sure I don’t bolt to the door and run downstairs. A part of me wants to do just that. Instead I go into the bathroom. The used condom’s in the trash, resting atop some discarded paper towels.
Shaky and disheveled, I wash my hands and then put them against my red face, drawing slow breaths. What am I doing here?
Balling up some paper towels, I drop them over the condom to hide it, then emerge from the bathroom. He’s looking casually at his phone, and there’s not a hair out of place. A fresh drink sits on the coffee table behind him as he leans against the couch where I was just draped for fucking.
Unbelievable.
He slides his phone in his pocket and looks me over. “I’ll take a kiss.”
“Apparently, you’ll take a lot of things.”
