My tits bounce as I ride him and his hands come up immediately to grab them, his big palms cupping them, squeezing them, his thumbs finding my nipples and rubbing circles that make me gasp.
“Fuck, these tits,” he groans, squeezing harder, watching them bounce in his hands. “I’ve been thinking about these tits for weeks.”
“Shut up,” I pant, but my voice comes out breathy and desperate instead of commanding, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes when he pinches my nipples, rolling them between his fingers, tugging on them until sparks shoot straight to my clit.
“You like that?” He tugs harder on my nipples, stretching them, and I cry out, my rhythm faltering, my walls clenching around his cock. “You like when I play with your tits while you ride my cock?”
“I said shut—oh fuck—“ The words dissolve into a moan when he sits up suddenly, his abs flexing, his mouth finding my nipple and sucking it between his lips. The wet heat of his mouth makes me see stars and my hands fly to his hair, meaning to push him away, but instead I’m pulling him closer, holding his face against my breast as he sucks and licks and bites.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs against my skin, switching to the other nipple, and I can feel him smirking even with his mouth full of my tit.
I hate that he’s the one who makes me feel like this, the one whose cock fits inside me like it was made for me, the one who’s looking up at me right now with those dark eyes and that attitude, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
I slam down hard enough to wipe it off his face, grinding my hips in a slow circle when I bottom out, clenching around him deliberately. His head tips back, the tendons in his neck standing out, and a groan rips out of him that he clearly didn’t want to let escape.
There it is. That’s what I wanted.
I lean down close to his ear, my tits pressing against his chest, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Good boy,” I murmur, and my voice is pure venom, dripping with condescension.
His whole body goes rigid beneath me. His hands fly to my hips and grip hard enough to bruise, yanking me to a stop, and when his eyes meet mine they’re blazing with fury.
“Don’t,” he says, low and dangerous, “fucking call me that.”
“Why not?” I roll my hips despite his grip, taking him deep, watching his nostrils flare as he fights for control. “You seem to like taking orders. Lying there, letting me use you. Very obedient.”
“You think you’re running this?” His fingers dig into my flesh, hard enough that I’ll have marks tomorrow. Good. I want marks. I want evidence that this happened, that I got under his skin the way he’s been under mine for weeks. “You think because you’re on top, you’re in charge?”
“I think you’re the one flat on your back while I fuck myself on your cock.” I brace my hands on his chest and grind down again, slow and deliberate, and watch his jaw clench so hard I can see the muscle jumping. “So yeah. I’d say I’m running this.”
His jaw tightens and his eyes go half-lidded, the look of a man who’s done playing games. My stomach clenches with equal parts anticipation and warning.
And then he starts thrusting up into me.
Even with me on top, even with me supposedly in control, he drives his hips up, meeting my downstrokes with brutal force,and suddenly I’m not riding him anymore, I’m just holding on while he fucks me from below. His cock is hitting a spot inside me that makes my whole body shake, and he’s sucking my nipple and his hands are gripping my hips hard enough to bruise and I can’t think, can’t breathe, can barely remember my own name.
“Dominic—“ His name tears out of me against my will, desperate and broken, and I feel him smile against my breast.
“There it is.” He releases my nipple with a wet pop and looks up at me, his eyes dark and triumphant. “There’s that moan I’ve been waiting for. You sound so pretty when you’re falling apart on my cock.”
“Fuck you,” I gasp, but there’s no fight. He’s fucking the defiance right out of me with every thrust, and the worst part is he knows it.
“That’s what you’re doing, sweetheart.” He slams up into me so hard I bounce, my tits jiggling in his face, and he catches one in his mouth again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “And you love every second of it. Your pussy is gripping me so tight I can barely move. You’re dripping all over my cock. You’ve never been fucked this good in your life, have you?”
I want to deny it. I want to tell him he’s not that special, that I’ve had better, that he’s just another dick in a long line of dicks. But my body betrays me, my walls clenching around him, my hips grinding down desperately, and the moan that escapes my lips makes a liar out of me.
“That’s what I thought.” He grabs my ass with both hands and pulls me down onto his cock while he thrusts up, burying himself so deep I swear I can feel him in my throat. “No one else has ever fucked you like this. No one else has ever made you feel like this. Just me.”
“You arrogant—“ I start, but he thrusts up again and the words dissolve into a scream.
He knows exactly what I need. He reads my body like a book, adjusts his angle, his rhythm, his grip, like he’s spent years studying me, like he knows every secret spot, every hidden trigger.
When I start to get close he slows down, edging me, keeping me right on the brink. When I try to take back control he grabs my hips and holds me still, fucking up into me at exactly the pace he wants.
He pulls me down and grinds up, his pelvis rubbing against my clit, and I shatter a little more. “I’ve been imagining exactly how I’d fuck you every night since you walked back into my gym. I know you, Brooke. I know what makes you tick. I know what makes you scream.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I pant, but even I don’t believe it.
“I know you like it rough.” He slaps my ass, hard, and I cry out, my pussy clenching around him. “I know you like to fight for control. I know you’ve been wanting my cock since the day we met, even when you were telling yourself you hated me. I know that right now, right this second, you’re trying so hard not to come because you don’t want to give me the satisfaction.”
