My hands were in his hair, fingers curled around thick locks, eager to hold him to me.
A growl filled the air when he pulled back, despite my efforts to redirect him right back where I needed him most.
Licking his lips, my juices covering his mouth and the fuzz surrounding it, he rumbled out in that sexy deep way of his, “Who Cy female?”
My answering growl seemed to satisfy him enough his head dropped down once more and he got back to it.
I was right on the edge again when he eased up.
Pulling back, eyeing me, Cy leaned back against the sofa, legs sprawled out, arms resting along the back. With a rumble rattling his chest that had me shivering, he ran his tongue along his mouth, tasting me on his lips.
With a snarl on my lips, I shoved the sweats off and shot up.
As if a snarling woman glaring at him was nothing new, he smiled my way. It was that annoying, know it all smirk smile he was so fond of. I wanted to smack it right off his face, then suck his tongue clean out of his head while I rode him to completion.
Tearing the shirt I was wearing off over my head, I was on him, attacking the button and zip on his jeans.
Cy kept his hands along the back of the couch, even as I grew frustrated with his jean button and began yanking it this way and that, snarling all the while, until the damn thing finally cooperated.
Cy finally lifted up as I paused, caught my breath, and slowly tugged the zipper down, so I could then yank his jeans off.
Gonna make him wish he’d never messed with me, I thought as his cock popped free and I made to straddle him. Wondering exactly how I thought giving him exactly what he’d goaded me into was giving him what for, all thought fled as I sank down on him.
Cy groaned as I took all of him, every last inch.
“Say you’re my bitch,” I growled out.
Cy’s eyes were just starting to close as I began to move. It was my turn to smirk as crystal clear blue eyes shot open, blinked a few times as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard that right, and met mine.
“You heard me. You want me? Say you’re my bitch.”
Dropping his hands from the back of the couch, he leaned forward, taking one of my nipples into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth, to bathe the tip with his tongue. Taking more of my aching flesh into his mouth, he growled around it, the action turning his tongue into an impromptu vibrator.
“Cy! No! Please!” I cried out as he grabbed my hips and started to lift me up. I was so close. “I’m yours! I’m yours! Fuck me, you fucking furred asshole, I’m yours!” My voice was a soft wail.
“Hi heroo hitch,” he garbled out around a mouth full of tit as he lifted us up, despite my howling protests, to set me down on the couch, turn me so I was facing away from him, to come right up behind me, and come down over me, my back pressed to his front.
When we came together once more, he reached over and laced our fingers together. He was going too slow for me, so I worked his length, moving beneath him.
Cy was content to leisurely stroke inside of me as I worked myself on him harder, and harder, until I was cresting, the tell-tale signs of him just starting to crest peeking.
As if guessing my next move, he pinned me down with a growl that had my channel fluttering around him anew, making it all that much harder to slip free of him and see how he liked being driven to the edge to be left hanging, and drove home hard and deep to grind down into me.
“MINE!” He roared the word above me as he came.
I didn’t need to look to know we’d made a mess. I could feel it as it pooled beneath me.
He half slumped against me, careful not to crush me. “Cy Pru’s bitch. Pru Cy’s,” he rumbled out. He said it in that very matter of fact, too serious way of his.
A small, self deprecating laugh left me. Maybe he was right, maybe we were perfect for each other. He was fucking nuts and I liked his crazy.
“We ruined the couch.” A small, semihysterical laugh bubbled to the surface.
The snort this man let out above me. Thick fingers slid beneath me, sliding right into the wetness beneath me. Of all the things I thought he might do, pressing his cum wet hands to my stomach to swipe them up my chest, was not one of them.
The squeal I let loose, trying to get away from him but unable to as he finger painted my body with baby batter, had him growling softly as if the noise hurt his ears.
“What are you doing?!” I burst out, slapping at his hands to no avail.
