Page 73 of Dirty Player
I smacked her ass again, rubbing it to soothe the sting. Instead of arching away, she pushed up, seeking my hand.
“You like this?” I asked, my teeth gritted. I took my cock in one hand and ran it through her slick cunt, biting back my own groan. With my tip at her entrance, I spanked her again. “Tell me, Shan. You like this? When I spank you? Do you know how fucking hot it makes me to watch your skin turn pink?”
She moaned my name again, and I grinned when she glared at me out of the corner of her eye, her face pressed into the couch beneath her.
“You do, don’t you? You don’t think you should, but you fucking love it when I get my hands on you, however it comes, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” she breathed, as I spanked her again. Every time my hand connected with her, she pushed back, until the tip of my dick slid right inside her.
She hugged me like a vise grip, and I lost the desire to tease her. I wanted to fuck her. Slam inside of her balls deep until she shouted my name, until my name was the only thing she thought.Oliver, Oliver, Oliver.I wanted her chanting it all day long.
“Are you going to come?” I asked as my hands went to her hips. I pressed into her, fighting the need to turn into a wild animal and fuck her relentlessly.
This woman. She took everything I gave and fucking loved it.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Oliver.”
I grunted as I hit the end of her, tilted her hips and bent my knees so I could go deeper inside of her. She contracted around my dick, sucking me in and holding me tight while her walls began convulsing.
I moved faster and faster until my fingertips grew wet from sweat. She came almost immediately as soon as I wrapped my hand around to her front and rubbed her clit. Her whole body tightened, muscles flexing in her arms as she held herself tight. Her pussy clenched around me and I continued fucking her harder, my hips smacking against her, my balls hitting her clit with every thrust forward. They pulled tight, screaming for relief, but I held off until another orgasm rolled through her, making her shake and shiver while the only thing she chanted wasoh God, oh God, yes, coming, Oliver.
I powered into her, pushing her forward while pulling her back and threw my head back, roaring her name while I shot myself inside of her.
“Fuck,” I groaned, grinding my teeth together. My throat muscles popped and tightened and I knew I’d bruised her from my tight hold on her. “So fucking beautiful.”Beautiful.I whispered it again, over and over until my heart began to calm and she went limp in my hold.
“God, you’re good at that,” she whispered, her voice raspy and dry when I let her go and climbed back to my spot on the couch behind her, wrapping my arms around her. “I could do that all day with you.”
I envisioned that: a whole day of fucking her wherever and however I wanted, listening to her repeat my name with a breathy voice, her curls wild and her eyes all smoky.
I pulled her tighter. “We should do that.”
I meant it. I’d fucking skip a day of practice to have her in my bed all day, pliable and wanting.
She laughed softly, adjusting on the couch until she was on her back, and looked up at me. Her eyes shone with sated lust. “Someday. I have the festival today.”
I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers, soft and slow, savoring the moment I had with her before our days took us in different directions. “And I need to get to morning workouts. But the first weekend I’m home, you’re at my place.”
It didn’t surprise me like it did the first time when I’d taken her to my house without thinking. I wanted her there. Wanted her to meet the horses and get to know them. Wanted her to be in my house so I had those memories of her.
I wanted to fuck her in every room of my house so every time I walked inside, all I saw was her.
Her smile went soft as I pulled back, and with a finger she traced my jawline, feeling my morning scruff. “Your house?”
I nodded as she hesitated.
“I’d like that.”
“Me too.”
***
“This is ridiculous.” I groaned and ran my hand down my face.
For thirty minutes I’d been waiting for Serena to show her face for our mediation, and she was late.
What else was new? The woman wore a watch as an accessory, was most likely always glued to her cell phone, and still couldn’t manage to get anywhere on time. It used to be endearing. I had teased her relentlessly when we were dating. The night before our wedding, I’d teased her about being late to walk down the aisle. What I’d realized later, much too late, was that if Serena was going to be the focus of everyone’s attention, she was always on time. When it was something important to me, or anyone else, she took her sweet-ass time, expecting everyone to wait around for her, demanding attention upon her late arrival.
This wasn’t the first time she’d pulled the stunt since our divorce, and I was fed up.
