“I want you damn near unconscious when I’m done.”
“Then don’t stop.”
I didn’t. Not until her legs were shaking, and she was begging me to either finish her or fuck her.
I stood, undressed slow, letting her watch. My dick was already hard and leaking, and she licked her lips like she wanted me to lodge my shit in her esophagus. Hovering over her, I grabbed her throat. “You want me to fuck you like I hate you or make love to you like I can’t live without you?”
“Both.”
I flipped her over, yanked her to the edge of the bed, and slid in from behind, deep, and slow, making her gasp and clutch the sheets.
“Fuck, Goldie,” I growled.
Smack.
I slapped her ass hard, watching the jiggle ripple down her back.
“Talk yo’ shit, baby.”
“Fuck me, Buck…shit,” she whimpered.
I gripped her hips and went deeper, pounding her until her moans turned into choked cries and curses. She was loud, nasty,wet, and exactly how I liked her. Every stroke hit with purpose, and every sound she made just pushed me further.
“You loud as hell,” I muttered.
“Then shut me up.”
I reached around, covered her mouth with one hand while choking her with the other, my strokes never letting up. Her eyes rolled, and her body trembled as she came around me again, pussy gripping me so tight it almost pulled the soul outta me.
“Fuck, Goldie. You gone make me lose it in this pussy.”
“Do it,” she whispered hoarsely. “Fill me up, Daddy.”
“Say that shit again,” I demanded, pounding harder.
“F-fuck…fill me up Daddy,” she cried out.
That did it.
I groaned as I emptied my seeds inside of her. My hips jerked with the last few strokes before collapsing beside her. Her legs were twitching, and her chest rising fast. We laid there, breathless. Sweaty. Tangled up in sheets and each other.
After a few minutes, she rolled over and smirked.
“Feel better?”
“Hell yeah.” I squeezed her ass.
She laughed, then curled into me, leg tossed over mine.
“I love you, Lincoln.”
“I love you too, shorty.” I kissed her forehead and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
***
The next night, I was at my old penthouse to meet Armani’s dumb ass. I hadn’t used the space in a minute, but it still smelled like control and bad decisions. Marc had set the interview up like I asked. Told Armani the meeting spot, didn’t ask any questions. That’s why I kept him around. He knew when to talk and when to shut the fuck up.
I stood by the window, looking down at the city lights, arms folded, and locs tied back. Until I heard the door click. She walked in like she was owed something.
