I duck my head and lick a nipple, which has the desired effect: she gasps and squirms and stops telling me what a nod means. It stiffens under my tongue, which is maybe the second or third most gratifying sensation I’ve ever felt.
I stop and wait, blowing on it lightly. It doesn’t take her long.
“Do that again,” she says. “Use your teeth.”
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I’m a little rougher than last time, and beneath me, Madeline squirms and clenches her hands, but she doesn’t actually try to free herself, just whimpers and groans and swears quietly. I lose myself in it a little because Madeline has incredible tits—plush and full and soft—a shade paler than the rest of her. I suck hard enough of the underside of one to leave a bruise, and she moans when I do it.
“You want anything else?” I ask after a bit, once the bite is turning bright red and both nipples are bright pink and stiff, her skin red where my stubble scraped it.
“Will you…” she starts and squirms a little bit, raising her head enough to look down. “Oh. Take my pants off?”
I let her hands go, and she squirms out of her shirt the rest of the way as I peel her leggings off. It’s not the most sensual clothing removal ever—she nearly kicks me in the face and then apologizes—but it’s effective because she’s finally naked, leaning on one elbow, reaching for my nightstand as I stare at her.
“Drawer?” she asks, even as she opens it. “Ah.”
Madeline tosses me a condom, and I roll it on as she pulls out the lube and half the stack of McDonald’s napkins I’ve got in there because I’m classy.
“Tell me how you want me,” I say, snapping open the lube and spreading some on. She watches my hand greedily but doesn’t say anything, so I keep talking. A specialty of mine. “I could put you on your back with your legs over my shoulders,” I say. “It’d be hard and fast, and you wouldn’t have to do much. You could sit on my dick again and give me a great show, or sit on it backward and give me a different great show.” Fuck, how many sex positions are there? “You could get on your hands and knees, and I’d fuck you into the mattress. You could stand up and bend over the?—”
“Here.” She rolls over onto her hands and knees. My breath catches.
“You wanna get fucked into the mattress?” I ask, stroking down the back of one thigh. I sound ten times steadier than I feel.
She arches her back in obvious offering and glances over her shoulder. “If you don’t mind.” Her voice is still husky from my dick hitting the back of her throat, and her hair’s mussed, and she’s pink and panting. I palm her ass and she presses back against my hand, so I dig my thumb into the crease right between her hip and her thigh and listen to the choked-off noise she makes.
“Javier.” It sounds like her teeth are gritted. “Comeon, I want you to?—”
I line myself up and slide in all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust. My eyes roll back in my head. She’s hot and slippery, and I can feel her yield to me, letting me in as her words turn into a groan.
I lean over her back and plant an open-mouthed kiss on her spine, a little because I like drawing this out and mostly because I really need a minute.
“Like this?” I ask, doing my best to sound like a person and not the panting, desperate mess I am. “Is it good, Madeline?”
She sighs, and the slight sound feels like it rolls through her body. She bends her knees and points her toes and arches her back. I bite into the muscle over one shoulder blade—not hard, nottoohard—but Madeline makes a broken, throaty noise and ruts back against me, pushing me even deeper, so I bite down harder and try not to lose my mind.
It gets messy after that. Messy and blurry, a tangle of tight slippery heat and soft skin. Madeline starts out noisy and only gets louder when I put a hand between her shoulder blades and push her down, her hips still in the air and her shoulders on the mattress.Mymattress, inmybed. When she moans, she moans intomypillow, and she turns her head and manages to glance back at me for a moment, eyes hazy and mouth open, one hand clenching the sheets.
“Look at you.” I’m babbling, half out of my mind. “This is what you wanted when you showed up at my door? You wanted me to hold you down and fuck you just like this?”
“God, yes,” she manages and squirms her right arm underneath her.
“You’re so much more agreeable with my cock in you.” I can feel the tips of her fingers against my shaft as she rubs her clit, and I fuck her with short, hard, deep thrusts because it’s whatshe seems to like. “And you’re so fucking pretty like this. Like you can’t help yourself, all splayed out and slutty for me. Does that feel good? Feels fucking good to me.”
“’Sgood,” she mumbles, face half in the pillow. I’m gripping her hips so hard I can barely feel my fingers, pulling her back as hard as I can.
“You can come if you want,” I hear myself say, ten times steadier than I feel. “I won’t make you wait. You look like you want to. You’re a fucking sight, Madeline. I wish you could see the way your pretty cunt is stretched around?—”
Madeline convulses, swearing. She turns her face into the pillow and shoves back against me, grinding and rutting as she shudders and her toes curl. My vision goes white as she clenches around me and I dig my fingers into her hips and somehow don’t come.
After she finishes, gasping into my pillow, I pull out and she raises her head with a questioning noise.
“Over,” I tell her, and Madeline obeys—of course she does, Jesus—and then she’s on her back, putting her ankles on my shoulders, fucked-out and post-orgasmic, and I line myself up and slide in so goddamn deep.
We both moan, and she’s got one arm over her head and the other—the other’s between her legs, again, rubbing her clit, sliding her fingers around my cock where it’s sunk inside her.
“I just like feeling you,” she says, still hazy and sex-drunk. “More, I mean. God, you feel so good.” I hear a noise like a sob, then realize it’s me, pleasure coiled tight and hot in the base of my spine. “Fuck, I’m gonna feel this all day,” she whispers, and I come so hard there are black spots in my vision.
“Wait,” Madeline says before I can pull out, and I glance up at the desperation in her voice, too sex-stupid to do anything but stare. “Stay,” she says, voice soft and strangled. “Just—please.”
