With my back against the door, I inch up my skirt. I slide my thong off my core and show him the peach between my legs.
He stares at it for a few seconds, his fingers gripping the arm of his chair in a harsh, violent grip before he commands me to play with my pussy.
I do that too until I make a mess of my fingers and my thighs, and until he’s springing from his chair and coming at me. Picking me up, he brings me to his desk and spreads me out like a meal he’s about to consume.
Flipping my skirt up, he enters me in one go and I arch my back.
“But I-I thought you had a rule,” I tell him, scratching his abdomen under his t-shirt as he pounds into me.
“I changed my mind,” he growls, fisting my messy hair. “You need my cock. So I can straighten out your bad girl pussy, bang her into shape.”
Biting my lip, I smile and moan and scratch. “And see? The world is still well and alive around us even if you broke a rule to make me a good girl.”
That makes him pause for a second, his lips parted and swollen from my kisses, his eyes lust-burnt.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he growls, punctuating those words with a harsh stab of his cock, making my entire body jiggle. “But that’s not what you are, remember?”
I pant, my thighs trembling around his hips. “Arrow…”
Grabbing the edge of his desk over my head, he shoves his cock into me again, inching that heavy piece of furniture up with the force. “Tell me who you are.”
I dig my nails into his stomach when he stops, waiting for my answer. “Your fuck doll.”
“Yeah, so you don’t make the rules, do you?”
“No.”
“Who does then?”
“My Arrow makes the rules.”
Still, he doesn’t move, making me wait and wait and wait…
“Arrow, please…”
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, his chain pooling on my throat, over my madly pulsing vein. “It hurts to wait. Is your pouty, bratty pussy hurting, Salem?”
I squirm my ass on his desk. “Yes.”
His dick lurches inside of me, throbs like my soppy channel, and yet he’s stubbornly stationary.
“Who’s making it hurt, baby?” he whispers, going for my lip, nipping the fat curve of it.
“You,” I reply. “My Arrow is making my pussy hurt.”
As soon as I’ve said it, he gives me what I want.
He resumes his movements and I close my eyes in relief.
“And who’s making your pussy feel good now?” He licks the spot on my lip that he’s just nicked with his sharp teeth.
“My Arrow.” I grab his sweaty hips, urging him to move faster. “My Arrow is making my pussy feel good.”
When he makes me come a few minutes later and empties himself inside of me – or the condom actually – almost simultaneously, I wonder again.
How can I stop?
He needs me.
