She flipped the fuck out on me, yelling about how she wasn’t that kind of girl, refusing to be pawed at in a car like some cheap slut, demanding to be taken back to my house—my mansion—and treated like a ‘goddamn lady’.
Georgia slaps a pack of wet wipes on the dashboard, climbs right into the backseat, and starts unbuttoning her pants. “Well?” she asks, spinning her hand. “Get your dick out and let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
The contrast is stark.
Rolling my eyes, I climb out of the car and go around to get into the back, like a civilized individual. She’s waiting for me, still looking surly and like maybe she resents having to do this at all. That’s fine. When she lifts her hips to push her jeans down, I lean in for a kiss.
She turns her face away.
I pause, scoffing. Apparently it’s only a shitty move when I do it. Well, I’m not some oversensitive little bitch. I grab her by the chin and force her mouth to mine, not at all deterred by the way her face screws up in protest. It doesn’t last long, anyway. As soon as I reach into the top of her shirt, the fabric digging into my wrist as I wrench it down to get a nice handful of her tit, she stills, melting into the motion of my lips.
She tastes coffee-bitter when my tongue plunges into her mouth, but the sound she makes is sweet when she arches into me, her nipple pebbling against the pad of my thumb. I take my time, kissing down her jaw, licking into the hollow of her collarbone, finally tasting that plump curve of her cleavage. When I rise back to her mouth, she’s turning away again. I don’t let her, fisting the back of her hair and crashing our mouths together, making her take it. She gets her revenge in the form of teeth sinking into my bottom lip. I take it like a man, licking against her tongue. Fuck, I could do this for hours—fighting her, forcing her to feel it, making her hips buck into thin air, seeking me out, knowing that she’s desperate for my dick and too proud to show it.
But she’s right.
We don’t have all day.
I yank her pants down, movements jerky and uncoordinated until I finally break away, dodging her knee when she kicks them off her ankles. My hand runs up her thigh, eyes narrow as I check for new marks, making sure her word’s really being kept, that she isn’t hurting herself.
The skin is smooth, and aside from the old mark, seemingly unblemished.
Satisfied, I push on her shoulder, but it’s unnecessary. She’s already turning, legs spreading, chest heaving as she braces herself against the door.
I don’t bother checking if she’s wet, grabbing my dick and sliding slowly inside. Her hand curls into a fist against the window, jaw going slack as she takes me inch by inch. She likes this part of it—that much, I know. One of these days, I’m going to tease her with it, sliding into her tight cunt and then taking it away, making her squirm and beg until I do it again.
Today, I decide to fuck her hard and fast.
Her forehead bumps the window with my first thrust, a loud gasp preceding the bang of her fist as she braces herself. “Oh, god,” she breathes, bouncing back into me.
“Fuck that,” I growl, grabbing a fistful of her hair as I pound into her. “I want to hear you fucking scream.”
I can tell when it finally hits her that we’re far away from anyone else. Until now, every time we’ve fucked, we’ve had to be quiet and careful. Even when we’re at my apartment, there’s still a cloud of worry. Someone could walk by, and that little glorified garden shed isn’t exactly the pinnacle of insulation. Even if it were, I’m always in danger of getting one of Collins’ spontaneous visits.
Still, it isn’t until I ram my dick hard into her that her little squeaks bite off into sharp, loud cries. It makes my blood rush to my head, hearing the frantic, high-pitched whine being tugged from her throat. I press my mouth to her jugular just to feel the vibrations.
I get this intrusive and totally fucking unwelcome thought that maybe this is what Sebastian heard when he fucked her. Did he fuck her like this, rough and nasty, the way she likes it? Does he know the right way