So I did.
I gripped her tight and thrust hard, burying myself balls-deep inside her with one brutal stroke. She slammed forward, bracing herself against the back of the couch, crying out.
“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” I groaned, grinding my hips in tight circles, my length sliding over that spot inside her. Her inner walls massaged me. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. So fucking tight.”
Her reply was a broken moan, her head hanging as she fought for breath. I waited, giving her time to adjust to me, one hand possessively gripping her hip, the other creeping up to her breast, testing the weight in my palm. She was still sensitive, and she clenched around me as I pinched her nipple between two fingers.
“Not so tough now, are you?” I teased, giving her a moment to reply, then pulled almost all the way out before I thrust into her again, hard, when no retort came. She cried out, fingers digging into the couch.
“Again.” Her voice shook. “Hudson, please.”
“Please what?” I demanded, slapping her ass as I pulled back. “Use your safe word if you need to. Otherwise, ask nicely.”
“Harder,” she panted. “Please. More. I need?—”
I slammed into her, and she cried out, eyes squeezed shut. “Keep those eyes open, sweetheart. I want to see you.”
“Fuck,” she shouted, the word echoing in my apartment.
She arched back, offering herself to me, and I slapped her ass again, loving the way she gasped and shoved back against me. She was perfect, every inch of her, and I tightened my grip, pounding into her.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, my voice hoarse as sweat dripped down my forehead. “Take it all. Take what I give you.”
I released her hips and gripped her hair, tugging her head back, exposing the smooth column of her throat.
“You feel so good,” I growled, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in. “So fucking tight.”
She cried out, palms pressing flat against the back of the couch, ass pushing back to meet each of my thrusts. With each deep stroke, her cries filled the room, encouraging me to go harder and faster.
“You like that, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” She threw one arm back, reaching for me, desperately seeking something to cling to. “Yes, please. Harder, Hudson. I’m close.”
I grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm back up, holding it captive with the other at the small of her back. “Not yet,” I growled. “You don’t get to come yet.”
“Hudson, please.” Her words were broken, breathless. “Please, I need?—”
“You need what?” I demanded, stilling my thrusts.
“Please don’t stop,” she begged.
“How close are you?”
“I don’t know. Hudson, don’t?—”
“Don’t I decide when you come?”
“Yes, but?—”
I granted her another deep thrust, rewarded with a cry of pleasure.
“I’m begging, Hudson. Please. Oh God, I need to come. Please, Hudson, please.”
“Fine. Come for me.”
Her inner muscles clenched around me as she tumbled over the edge, her cries filling the room. I continued to thrust through her orgasm, feeling her constrict around me, milking me for everything. I was close, dangerously close, but some small rational part of my brain insisted I wait. I wanted this to last.
Her cries died down, and she pressed her forehead to her free arm. I gentled my thrusts, letting her come down, before caressing her hips and beginning to move again. I wrapped a fist in her hair and gently pulled her head back.
