I don’t respond as I stare straight ahead at a bag of sugar. His large, heavy hands roam my body, starting at my back and working their way around to my chest. I moan into his touch, struggling to hold on to the shelf when all I really want to do is melt into his arms.
When his hands make their way down to my groin, my body lights up like it answers to him. My cock is already hard—it was the minute he walked in that door.
I’m at his mercy. He can do whatever he wants to me, and for once, I don’t scoff at the idea. I love it.
His mouth finds my neck, and I close my eyes, trying to commit this feeling to memory. With anyone else, I’d hate this, but Archer doesn’t just see through the armor, he obliterates it.
His warm tongue creeps up my neck, sucking on the tender skin, and it takes everything in me not to thrust my hips to seek out friction.
And when his hands begin working open my belt, I nearly whimper with relief. His touch is greedy and rough, proof that he’s taking more than he’s giving. I slightly tense at the idea, not because I wouldn’t let him fuck me but only because…we’re in Freya’s pantry.
“What a pretty ass, fancy pants,” he says after jerking my pants down to my thighs.
Archer grabs a handful of my ass in his large hands, and it makes my cock twitch. The hint of pain mixed with degradation is my catnip. I want him to degrade me, own me, and let me prove that I’m his safe space. He is always safe with me.
When he drops to his knees behind me, I gasp, glancing back at the door to be sure no one is coming. Then Archer’s teeth clamp down on the flesh of my backside, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. I’m thrashing against the shelf, knowing he’s going to leave a mark.
And only moments after releasing his teeth from my ass, he spreads my cheeks and spears me with his tongue. I’m assaulted by a wet, warm sensation that nearly knocks me off my feet. Again, I have to clamp my lips shut to keep from crying out, this time from pleasure instead of pain.
He’s doing this on purpose. Driving me wild because he can. Making me feel what it’s like to be theusedinstead of theuser.
My knees begin to wobble, but I keep quiet as Archer licks me, making my cock leak precum onto the tile floor. When he stands again, I hear the sound of his belt and pants, and I tense with anticipation.
He spits loudly, and I feel the smooth head of his dick pressing between my thighs.
“Squeeze your legs together,” he says, and I do, creating a tight seam for him to fuck. His hips thrust rapidly as if he’s already chasing his orgasm. When his lips find my neck again, I smile into the sensation.
He’s using me, and it’s incredible. I am not just content with the sound of his pleasure, I am overcome by it.
“Look what you do to me,” he grunts while fucking my thighs. “Your ass, your body, fucking all of you.”
My head hangs back, resting on his shoulder as he finds pleasure in my body. I’m so close, even without touching myself. My hard cock bobs with every thrust.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“Mine,” he growls, holding my neck roughly.
When he comes, he bites the top of my shoulder again, the same way he did that night in the club, and I smile at the idea of his teeth marking my skin.
The inside of my thighs is sticky with his cum, but I don’t mind. In some sexy way, I love the idea of being covered with it. It’s a sign that I was properly used up.
Archer pulls back and slides his hand down the inside of my thighs, slathering his palm like he’s rubbing it into my skin. Then his sticky hand finds my cock, and he strokes me roughly as if demanding my climax.
I offer it up to him in seconds. Biting my lip, I grunt quietly through my orgasm, filling his hand with my release.
By the time we’re done, we’re a mess.
“If Freya finds out about this, she’s going to ban us from the restaurant,” I say. I pull my hands from the top shelf, and my palms ache, red and sore.
“You really think she expected us to behave?” he asks as he grabs a towel from the counter. After wiping up his hands, he runs it along my thighs next. I’m still in desperate need of a shower, but it’ll do for now. Besides, I still like feeling his cum on my skin.
Just another one of his brands on me.
After our pants are up and the mess is mostly gone, he tosses the towel in the trash, and I make a mental note to buy more. Then I move to the door, and he grabs my arm, hauling me back toward him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. “You’re mine, remember?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I reply as I fall against his chest.
