Fuck resisting.
I've been holding back since the moment she walked into Murphy's last night. Holding back from touching her, from claiming her, from giving in to every filthy thought that's been running through my head. But she just confirmed what I hoped to hear, that she wants this as much as I do.
My hands find her hips and I pull her inside the bathroom, closing the door behind us with my foot. She gasps, her back hitting the bathroom sink. I place one hand on her cheek, tilting her face up to mine.
Then I kiss her.
There's nothing soft about it. Nothing sweet or hesitant. It's raw and desperate and hungry. Years of loneliness and want and need poured into the slide of my mouth against hers. She opensfor me immediately, her tongue meeting mine, her hands fisting in my henley.
I can't get enough. I deepen the kiss, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.
She moans into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my cock. I press against her, letting her feel how hard I am, how much I want her. She rocks against me, seeking friction, and I nearly lose my fucking mind.
Our lips are still pressed together, tongues tangled, when her hands drop to my belt. She fumbles with the buckle, her fingers clumsy with need, and tosses it aside. Then she's working my jeans open, trying to shove them down without breaking the kiss.
It's endearing how horny she is. How desperate. And it only makes me hornier, makes my cock throb harder against the confines of my boxer briefs.
My jeans fall to my ankles, and she breaks the kiss long enough to drop to her knees. She looks up at me from that position. Green eyes bright with lust, lips swollen from kissing, her hands on my thighs, and asks:
"Do you prefer to guide my head, or can I go at my own rhythm?"
Fuck. She's fantastic.
"You're free to do whatever you like," I rasp out, my hand finding her hair, threading through the damp strands. "Whatever feels good for you."
Her smile is wicked as she hooks her fingers into my boxer briefs and pulls them down. My cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking pre-cum. She doesn't even use her hands at first. Just opens those plump lips and takes me in her mouth like she's been fantasizing about this as much as I have.
"Fuck," I groan as her lips wrap around my head, sucking gently. She keeps her half-lidded eyes on mine, watching my reaction as she works me with just her mouth.
I tilt my head back and grip the sink behind her, my knuckles going white. My legs are trembling because she's sucking the soul out of me. Her tongue swirls around my tip, finding that sensitive spot just beneath the head, and I have to lock my knees to keep from collapsing.
Then she slides down. Takes more of me. Keeps going until I feel the back of her throat, and she deepthroats me without hesitation.
All hell breaks loose.
My hand tightens in her hair involuntarily, and I pull her down. Gently, just for two or three seconds until she's gagging on my cock. The sound is obscene, wet and desperate, and I immediately pull her back, giving her air.
"Shit, I'm sorry—" I start to apologize, but she cuts me off.
"Don't." Her voice is rough, breathless. "You don't need to be nice to me. You can be rough. Should be rough." She licks her lips, her eyes bright with something wild. "I can take it. I love it. Love how it makes me feel alive."
Jesus fucking Christ.
I smile, something dark and hungry taking over. "You sure about that?"
"Positive." She opens her mouth again, waiting, and the trust in that gesture, the absolute certainty that I won't hurt her even as she's asking me to use her, it's intoxicating.
I grab her hair again, this time with purpose. No more gentleness. No more holding back. She wants rough, I'm taking things there.
I fuck her throat.
My hips thrust forward, my cock sliding past her lips, over her tongue, hitting the back of her throat over and over. She gags but doesn't pull away. Just takes it, her hands braced on my thighs, her nails digging in.
Saliva trickles down the corners of her mouth. Her eyes water but stay locked on mine, gleaming with satisfaction. With pride. Like she's proving something to herself, that she can take this, that she's not fragile, that she can give as good as she gets.
And she's smiling. Even with my cock buried in her throat, even while gagging, she's fucking smiling.
"That's it," I growl, my grip tightening in her hair. "Take it all. Take every fucking inch."
