Doing my best to ignore the anticipation and treat this like a job—the way she wants—I unzip just as my jeans-clad leg nudgeshers, pull my rock-hard dick out, and bend at the knees to center myself between her thighs.
She gasps when my cockhead nudges her slick lips open, and moans when I sink right the fuck in, my belly filled with this messed up combination of want and need and frustration that’s somehow, in no time at all, become the biggest turn-on in my arsenal.
“Oh, god,” she whimpers.
“That’s right.” I plunge deep as I can get and hold tightly to her hips, not moving through the first few seconds of mind-erasing pleasure. The shock’s like diving into cold water. Finally, I shake my head. “My cock’s all the way in, Kit. You feel that?”
“We’re not… You said…”
“Facts. Just stating facts. Nothing dirty about the truth, is there? Fact: I’m taking you bareback right now.” I draw out, slow and explicit, my dick aching with how good it feels, then slam back inside, satisfied at the almost violent expulsion of air from her lungs. “That is a cold, hard fact, Katarina. No more, no less.”
Another, long, slow slide, and then a thrust, rough, to the hilt.
She grunts. I join her. “I’m filling this tight little pussy with my cock. Fact.” When I pull out this time, it’s quick, purely functional. The penetration is anything but. It’s an invasion, a taking. If she won’t watch me fuck her, I can at least make sure she feels every goddamn inch, good and deep. “Using this little hole the way you’re using me.” My own words shock me, then a second later, feel so right. Sofuckingtrue. “Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
I withdraw and pump back in. Over and over again, the slap of our skin a violent staccato beat. “You like it like this, Katarina? Deep? Rough?”
Her only answer is a groan.
I stop, lodged halfway inside her and, out of breath, whisper, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She’s breathing hard. “It’s fine. Just keep going.”
She didn’t say finish. She said keep going. I latch onto that distinction, clasp her hips harder and pull her back onto my dick. Again and again. Every time, she grunts and gasps and pants, each sound a gift I’ve had to earn with my body. “That’s it, Kit. That’s it,” I say, my own orgasm approaching like a runaway train. I shove it back. “Fuck, you’re getting tighter.”
“I’m…I’m…oh, god, I’m gonna…”
Gonna what? Is she coming? Christ, I want that. My eyes screw shut as I force myself to hold off, needing the feel of her climax before I’ll relinquish my own. Only fair. Onlyfuckingfair.
“Do it. Come all over my fat cock. Do it.”
A high whimper, her pussy flutters around me.
With any other woman, under any other circumstances, I’d fall forward and wrap my arms around her, maybe, if she was into the idea, grab her hair or her throat. Or something softer: a tender stroke, a kiss. I don’t have those options with Kit. I follow that urge to bend, but have to settle for latching my hands onto her shoulders, startled to feel them covered in fabric, and yank her back onto me.
“You feel my balls against you? All high and tight? Fuck, Kit, they’re so full for you. So ready to give you what you want.”
“What Ineed,” she corrects, the words punctuated by the smack of my hips to her ass. Fuck me if her bossiness isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Bossy Katarina and her heavenly pussy.
Hell, this is it. Right this second, I can pinpoint the birth of a new fetish. Only it’s not about being told what to do. Hell, no, that would be too straightforward.
What I want, when she orders me around like this, is to do it right back, to make her change her mind. Make her want whatever I decide to give. I want to scrap, not dominate.
Kit doesn’t like to be told what to do. That’s been obvious from the first time I met her. It’s my own response to it that surprises me. Makes me want to bossheraround—here, at least—manhandle her until she succumbs and then take some of the load off her shoulders. Force her to accept what I give. There’s a weird power play involved, but I get—even as wound tight as I’m feeling right now—that she won’t just give up control. She needs it wrested from her. A hard-fought struggle.
And who doesn’t love a good battle?
“It’s what you need, isn’t it, Katarina?” I slam her back onto me, bottoming out inside her. “Say it. Tell me.”
“I need it,” she whimpers.
“Need what?”
“Your…your come.”
“Fuuuuuuck.” Excitement gathers at the bottom of my spine, building fast and hard. “Yeah. You’ll get it.” I piston into her, quick now, too close to the end to take my time. I feel my rhythm breaking down, my lungs starting to seize.
