“You done?” He asked.
I should have said yes. I should have avoided challenging him. But my pride… it always had me writing checks my ass couldn’t cash.
“No.”
“Then what you crying for? Come here.”
Quentin had me on my stomach, one knee to my chest, and the other stretched out like an Olympian in the blocks. He had his leg resting across mine, so I was basically stuck in that position, unable to run with only the option of taking his dick as he had said.
“You done running?” He taunted me.
“Yes,” I whimpered, conceiting defeat.
He continued to fuck me, one hand holding my waist, one around my neck, and his mouth close to my neck. I could feel the slickness of his skin on my back. His sweat was a clear indication of the work he was putting in.
“You got the best pussy, B. You ready to cum for me?”
I didn’t answer him. Not because I wasn’t ready, but because I couldn’t form the words.
He went deeper; his hand pressed a bit firmer.
“Hm, bitch?” He demanded.
“Yes, Q!”
“Then give it to me, princess, cum on my dick.”
I know this may sound strange, but the fact that this man had just called me a bitch made me feel like the drum solo from Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” was playing on my clit.
“That’s it, baby… just like that,” he praised.
I could hear the evidence of the effect he had on me between us. I came hard as he held me and fucked me slowly through it.
The way he had me coming undone should have been a study. Had someone else been in this house, I don’t know if they would think I was having sex or in the middle of being murdered. But I couldn’t say that either was wrong.
He let me go, pulled out, and came over my butt. Then got off the bed while I lay there and went toward the bathroom.
Minutes later, he came out with a warm rag and cleaned the mess he had made. Turning me on my back, he folded the towel and wiped me again.
I swatted his hand, “You’re disgusting, it doesn’t take all that.” I laughed.
He chuckled and went back into the bathroom. “Come on, let’s go shower so you can take your first nap of the day.”
Quentin could have been as funny as he wanted to be, but that wasn’t going to stop the fact that a nap was going to be taken. If he was going to be turning me every which way but loose, he was also going to have to allot me some time to recuperate.
I opened the shower door and inwardly groaned at the fact that this shower didn’t come with a bench. Now I would have to stand up, with my legs barely able to support me.
We showered separately and in silence, with my only objective being to hurry and get my head on a pillow. But Q had other plans, and I knew from the moment he decided to help me “wash my back” that a nap was getting further from my reach.
What started as him “helping me” turned into me being suspended in the air, legs around his waist, and being fucked against the wall.
By the time that we came out of the shower, I had cum twice more, and I was spent. I glanced at the clock. It had been exactly two hours and thirteen minutes since we had walked through the doors of the villa, and I had already felt depleted.
And I knew this was only the beginning. I crawled under the covers and pulled them to my chin. Quentin came into the room with a bottle of water and stood at the edge of the bed, peering down at me. He was amused, and I did not care in the least bit. Secretly, I think it stroked his ego, but that was none of my concern.
“Give me an hour, maybe two.” I yawned as I turned on my side and drifted to sleep. I didn’t want to sleep through the plans that I had made. But I had to recharge for the night.
***
