Nadine didn't expect him to keep going, because why would he? He'd brought home a strange woman who was willing to fuck, and he certainly hadn't done it as a favor. But the show she put on only made him more persistent, and as she got louder she realized with some surprise that he was going to keep going until she finished – no mere foreplay, this, as his fingers curled inside her and his mouth played at her clit. Her legs curled around his shoulders, and soon the hand in his hair was coaxing him on in earnest, grinding against his face.
Grayson paused, and she gasped, an indignant growl of disgusted frustration. "Don't you dare," she snarled, so close she could scream, "don't you dare stop, Grayson, if you stop now I swear I'll–"
"Ask nice," he interrupted, before she could decide on a threat, and the way his voice felt against her made her toes curl even as she groaned.
"Please," she tried again, "pleasepleasepleaseprettyplease – oh, oh." He tongue flicked over her clit before he sucked again, fingers curling deeper, and that was all it took to make her scream with delight. She felt his hair slip away from her fingers as she was momentarily lost to the world, and as she tried to pull him back he bent over her to kiss her, coating her tongue in the taste of her own arousal. Which was filthy and unsanitary and he should absolutely have been ashamed of himself, at some point, when she was done holding onto him to kiss him with all the fierceness she had available to her. He slid her higher onto his bed as he crawled into it, and at some point while he was between her legs on the floor he must have done away with his jeans. Which was almost too bad; there was something nice about the urgency of fucking through denim.
"Hey!" she protested when he slid the glasses off her face, frowning. She still hated it when people did that.
He folded them carefully, and tapped them against the tip of her nose. "I'm not buying you new glasses just because you don't know when to take them off," he said, misinterpreting the source of her displeasure. She also had a hunch that he was lying. She let it slide, because he'd had a good reason, and it was almost sweet. Thighs straddling hers, she let out a yelp of surprise when hands at her waist flipped her over.
"Mister Crawford," she giggled, pretending to be scandalized as he kissed a line down her spine.
"You said no missionary," he reminded her, and she grabbed what appeared to be his fluffiest pillow as there was a distinctive crinkle behind her.
"I did not," she protested, although she was hardly complaining. He lifted her hips, and she accommodated him by bending her legs to prop up her knees, face still comfortably resting on the pillow she'd wrapped her arms around.
"You implied," he corrected, adjusting the spread of her legs, propping a pillow against the headboard to be sure she wouldn't hit her head. "And don't call me that," he added. "It's weird." He brushed her hair out of her face so he could see her, and when she opened her mouth to argue again, he pushed inside her with a single swift stroke. Whatever she'd been about to say turned into a ragged moan, green eyes wide as she gripped tight she pillow she was holding.
Fingers tangled in her curls and pinned them to the pillow, pulled her hair in what might have been revenge for when she'd done the same. She wasn't about to complain, because she was still soaked and sensitive, enough that each stroke was like an echo of her earlier climax. Every thrust seemed to push the air out of her lungs and leave her gasping, and he answered her sounds with what could only be called growls, low deep sounds as he watched her face twist against the pillow.
"Bored?" he asked, and she couldn't help a breathless laugh at the taunt.
"So – so – so –" she attempted, but dissolved into giggles, because she couldn't speak properly when his hips were ramming into hers and knocking all the air out of her. "More," she settled on, because that was a very good all-purpose syllable. His hands gripped her shoulders, slid down her arms to untangle her death grip on his bedding. His hands held her wrists so her arms stretched behind her back, and she gasped in surprise as he held them there, lifted her off the pillow so she couldn't stop herself bouncing with the force of his thrusts. She was stretched out and helpless and utterly ecstatic, and if she kept screaming she was going to end up losing her voice. Which she didn't think he'd mind.
She came again, enough force that bucked against him and her limbs all shuddered, seeming for a moment to struggle before she'd crested again. He held her still for a moment while his cock twitched inside her, made her twitch in turn until he released her. She collapsed against his pillows in a sighing and sated heap, not bothering to try and make room for him or get herself into a more attractive position.
"I've been tricked," she accused with a yawn, stretching out her legs to work out the cramp from being tense and bent so long. The kittens on her thighs had made it through remarkably unscathed. "You're not boring at all. You should warn people."
Grayson paused, and she gasped, an indignant growl of disgusted frustration. "Don't you dare," she snarled, so close she could scream, "don't you dare stop, Grayson, if you stop now I swear I'll–"
"Ask nice," he interrupted, before she could decide on a threat, and the way his voice felt against her made her toes curl even as she groaned.
"Please," she tried again, "pleasepleasepleaseprettyplease – oh, oh." He tongue flicked over her clit before he sucked again, fingers curling deeper, and that was all it took to make her scream with delight. She felt his hair slip away from her fingers as she was momentarily lost to the world, and as she tried to pull him back he bent over her to kiss her, coating her tongue in the taste of her own arousal. Which was filthy and unsanitary and he should absolutely have been ashamed of himself, at some point, when she was done holding onto him to kiss him with all the fierceness she had available to her. He slid her higher onto his bed as he crawled into it, and at some point while he was between her legs on the floor he must have done away with his jeans. Which was almost too bad; there was something nice about the urgency of fucking through denim.
"Hey!" she protested when he slid the glasses off her face, frowning. She still hated it when people did that.
He folded them carefully, and tapped them against the tip of her nose. "I'm not buying you new glasses just because you don't know when to take them off," he said, misinterpreting the source of her displeasure. She also had a hunch that he was lying. She let it slide, because he'd had a good reason, and it was almost sweet. Thighs straddling hers, she let out a yelp of surprise when hands at her waist flipped her over.
"Mister Crawford," she giggled, pretending to be scandalized as he kissed a line down her spine.
"You said no missionary," he reminded her, and she grabbed what appeared to be his fluffiest pillow as there was a distinctive crinkle behind her.
"I did not," she protested, although she was hardly complaining. He lifted her hips, and she accommodated him by bending her legs to prop up her knees, face still comfortably resting on the pillow she'd wrapped her arms around.
"You implied," he corrected, adjusting the spread of her legs, propping a pillow against the headboard to be sure she wouldn't hit her head. "And don't call me that," he added. "It's weird." He brushed her hair out of her face so he could see her, and when she opened her mouth to argue again, he pushed inside her with a single swift stroke. Whatever she'd been about to say turned into a ragged moan, green eyes wide as she gripped tight she pillow she was holding.
Fingers tangled in her curls and pinned them to the pillow, pulled her hair in what might have been revenge for when she'd done the same. She wasn't about to complain, because she was still soaked and sensitive, enough that each stroke was like an echo of her earlier climax. Every thrust seemed to push the air out of her lungs and leave her gasping, and he answered her sounds with what could only be called growls, low deep sounds as he watched her face twist against the pillow.
"Bored?" he asked, and she couldn't help a breathless laugh at the taunt.
"So – so – so –" she attempted, but dissolved into giggles, because she couldn't speak properly when his hips were ramming into hers and knocking all the air out of her. "More," she settled on, because that was a very good all-purpose syllable. His hands gripped her shoulders, slid down her arms to untangle her death grip on his bedding. His hands held her wrists so her arms stretched behind her back, and she gasped in surprise as he held them there, lifted her off the pillow so she couldn't stop herself bouncing with the force of his thrusts. She was stretched out and helpless and utterly ecstatic, and if she kept screaming she was going to end up losing her voice. Which she didn't think he'd mind.
She came again, enough force that bucked against him and her limbs all shuddered, seeming for a moment to struggle before she'd crested again. He held her still for a moment while his cock twitched inside her, made her twitch in turn until he released her. She collapsed against his pillows in a sighing and sated heap, not bothering to try and make room for him or get herself into a more attractive position.
"I've been tricked," she accused with a yawn, stretching out her legs to work out the cramp from being tense and bent so long. The kittens on her thighs had made it through remarkably unscathed. "You're not boring at all. You should warn people."
The following 1 user Likes Tindome's post: megs
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