“What are you going to do?” I whimpered, daring him to take his frustration out on my aching body. “Spank me?”
“Is that what you want?”
Was it?
Thinking of his hands on me, fulfilling something I’d never spoken out loud but always wondered about, was too tempting to ignore, especially when this felt like the end.
“Yes. Make me feel everything, Mark.”
“Then fuck yes, I am,” he said, turning me around roughly to face the back of the couch.
He kicked my feet apart and manhandled my body, so my knees were resting on the couch cushion. He yanked down my leggings and grabbed a handful of my flimsy blue boy shorts, tearing the material from my body.
“Are you sure you want me to?” he hissed between his teeth, running one hand up my thigh.
“I dare you,” I replied, trying to turn my head around to face him, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair to hold me steady and cracked his palm across my ass.
My back arched, and I hissed out a breath. The sting of his palm was exactly what I needed as I listened to his ragged breath as he guided his fingertips over my swollen flesh. He tugged my hair harder, turning my neck, so my cheek pressed against the back of the couch. Draping his entire body over mine, he let go and licked a line up the side of my neck, then bit down, grinding his hips to my ass.
“That’s a dare I’d take every time, baby.”
“Ahhh,” I moaned, lifting my head enough to shake the hair from my face. “Is that all you’ve got, Mark? Let me fucking feel you.”
He hissed in an audible breath, and then I heard the telltale sound of his belt buckle and zipper as he worked his pants down. My pulse was racing, and my heartbeat was roaring in my ears, but I wiggled my hips enough to let him know I wanted more.
He stood up and popped me again. Once. Twice. Three times. Never in the same spot. He kneaded my stinging ass and leaned over me again, breathing in my ear.
“What do you want, Jenna?”
“Again. Make it count,” I said, panting and egging him on. I needed him raw and uninhibited. I needed him more than oxygen. I needed everything he was willing to give.
Crack!
My breath hissed out between my teeth, but he didn’t let up, smacking me two more times in the same spot. I could feel the heat pouring off my skin as he let go of my hair and sunk to his knees, spreading my ass cheeks apart to expose everything to him. Tracing his tongue through my wetness, he growled low in his throat.
“Fuck, you’re soaked for me. This pussy is everything, baby. This is what you really want, isn’t it?”
I nodded desperately, turning my head to see him and not confident I could form a coherent sentence. Not when his tongue, his cock, and his overwhelming essence were so close. He stood back up, shoving his pants and briefs the rest of the way down to his ankles. His cock looked painful, the head dark and swollen as he gripped the base and gave himself a harsh stroke.
“You want me?”
There was no point denying it. He was everything I wanted. I didn’t want to leave Charleston. I wanted this, him—every day.
“Yes.”
“You want this?” He grabbed my hair and angled my head so I could see him drag his cock through my pussy. I whimpered with the sensation, nodding and pushing my hips back.
“No, baby. You want this? Beg for it.”
I could see the last shred of restraint disappearing from his gaze, but he was going to make me work for it. He was going to make me beg.
“Fuck me, Mark. Please. Please,” I whimpered as he let go of my hair and ran his hand down my back, then leaned forward and kissed the places his hands smacked. He licked and soothed the tender skin, running his hands over my ass, over my back, and through my hair.
There was nothing I could do but whimper. It felt too good. He felt too good, and this was the end. I could feel it as much as I could feel the wetness from my pussy sticking to my thighs. Everything had come full circle.
And I ached.
I ached for his touch. I ached for his cock. I ached for not being enough for him.
