Sammie
I’m not wearing anything beneath his sweater, which he wastes no time pulling over my head.
We stand for just long enough for him to undress and pull his chair into a better position, then he sits and I straddle him, his hard length between us.
“I knew you were big,” I say, stroking him, enjoying the way the head of his cock flushes the more I stroke him. A drop of precum beads at the tip, and I stroke over it with my thumb. “But not this big.”
“I’m pleasantly surprised you took it as well as you did,” he says, before pulling a sharp breath in and groaning.
“Well, I’d been wanting you for days. My body was positively prepped by the time it happened.”
I lift myself up and line him up with my entrance. “You said something about wanting to see your cum dripping out of me, only I showered, so you’ll have to fill me up again.” I slide down him in one long motion, my head falling back as the first flash of pleasure bolts through me.
I make a keening sound as I adjust myself on him and he cups my breasts, dipping his head to take my nipples into his mouth, one at a time, giving them both equal attention.
The chair creaks as I begin to rock back and forth, sliding right to the tip of him, then all the way to the base of his hard length. When the pleasure begins to build, I change to moving up and down his shaft, leaning back so he can watch my tits bounce.
He doesn’t know where to look. He watches my face, then my tits, then his gaze drops to where my pussy is claiming his cock.
“Fuck,” he grunts, when I change the angle of my pelvis. “No, wait—” his words are broken off with a long groan as he comes, his head falling back, mouth dropping open and his throat working with sounds he makes as he fills me again.
Seeing him fall apart like this pushes me over the edge, my pussy walls fluttering around his shaft.
The sound I make would embarrass me if I could think straight. But the harder I come, the more I seem to drag out his orgasm until somehow, we’ve both slipped to the floor, holding onto each other as his cock spasms inside me and my pussy grips him tight.
“Fuck, Sammie. I’ve never come so hard.”
My legs are shaking but I manage to maneuver so I can slide from him. He immediately moves to between my thighs, plugging me with two fingers.
“Keep it all in there,” he says, kissing my stomach.
I frown and look down at him.
“You know I’m on birth control, right?” I say, wondering what this is about.
“I figured, but the thought of you being full of my cum does something to me. I don’t just mean it keeps me hard. I mean it does something to me. If I weren’t so sure you’d completely drained me, I’d fuck you again right now.”
I laugh lightly. “Okay, well, while we’re being honest, I like making you come. It makes me feel like I’ve achieved something impossible. Even though I’m sure it was never impossible. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” I shrug.
“Open your legs,” he demands, his voice dropping an octave.
I do, and his eyes go straight to my spent pussy.
“I’m going to show you exactly how you make me feel.”
He backs up a little, still on his knees, and takes his cock in his hand.
I watch him work himself with his hand, his eyes roaming over me like I’m a feast he’s been starving for.
The sun hits his shoulders, his chest, the sharp lines of his hips, and I can’t look away.
He’s beautiful like this, stripped of everything, just a man looking at me like I’m the answer to every question he never asked.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says again, his voice rough and wrecked.
“I noticed the first moment I walked into your café. That denim apron pulled tight across your hips, your tits, your ass. I sat in that corner and told myself I was there for work, but I was lying. I was there because I couldn’t stop looking at you. ”
My breath catches. I spread my legs wider for him without thinking, showing him everything, and his gaze drops to where I’m open and wet and still dripping from him.
“I love your body,” he says, pumping harder, his fist tight around his thick length. “I love these curves. I love how soft you are, how real you are. You’re not some sharp thing made for show. You’re made for holding. For fucking. For keeping.”
He shifts closer, still on his knees, and his free hand slides up my inner thigh, thumb brushing lightly over my sensitive folds but not stopping, just teasing, just reminding me who I belong to right now.
“You make me feel insane,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost reverent.
“You make me feel like a man who’s been walking around half dead and didn’t even know it.
I see you and I want to burn the whole world down just to keep you safe.
I see you and I want to worship at your feet.
I see you and I can’t think about anything else. ”
I’m trembling from the sheer intensity of his words, the way he’s looking at me like I’m sacred and filthy all at once. I’ve never felt this seen. This wanted. This completely consumed by another person’s desire.
“Spread your lips,” he says, and my fingers go to my center and do as he asks.
His jaw tightens and he groans, his hand moving faster, his hips bucking into his fist. “You do this. You make me hard enough to hurt. You make me forget my own name. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Never. You’re inside me now. Under my skin. In my blood.”
He’s getting close. I can see it in the way his stomach muscles tense, the way his throat works, the way his grey eyes go almost black with it.
He leans over me, one hand braced beside my head, and he’s stroking himself right above me, the head of his cock flushed and weeping, and I’m arching up toward him without meaning to, needing him, needing this.
I lift my thighs, spreading myself as much as physically possible while he pumps vigorously.
“Please,” I breathe, and I don’t even know what I’m asking for. Just more. All of it. Everything he has.
“Look at you,” he growls, his voice breaking. “Look at this perfect pussy. These perfect tits. You’re everything. You’re fucking everything, Sammie, and I’m going to make sure you know it. I’m going to make sure you never forget who you belong to.”
He comes with a shout that echoes off the balcony walls, his cock jerking in his hand as thick ropes of cum splatter across my pussy, my thighs, marking me, claiming me.
It’s hot and obscene and the most intimate thing anyone has ever done to me.
He makes sure every drop lands on me, working himself until he’s empty, until he’s shaking, until he’s spent.
It takes a second for the word he shouted to register.
But before I have a chance to unpack it, he collapses forward, his forehead pressed against my chest, his breath coming in harsh gasps against my skin.
He stays there for a long moment, and I run my fingers through his hair, holding him, feeling the aftershocks ripple through both of us.
When he came, he shouted the word “mine,” long and loud.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are clear and fierce and absolutely certain. He looks down at where his cum is smeared across me, where I’m a mess of him and me and us, and he smiles. It’s not a kind smile. It’s a predator’s smile. A promise.
“Now you’re mine,” he says. Reaffirming what I hear moments ago.
And I realize that he’s right. I am his.
Completely. Irrevocably. I’ve been his since the first time he walked into my café and ordered black coffee like it was a challenge.
I’ve been his since he let Lucifer sit on his phone and didn’t complain.
I’ve been his since he carried me out of my safe little world and into his fortress and made me feel safer there than I ever had anywhere else.
I look up at him, this terrifying, beautiful man who has just marked me as his own, and I know with absolute certainty that no one else will ever measure up.
No one else will ever see me the way he does.
No one else will ever touch me the way he does.
No one else will ever make me feel like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
I’m ruined. He’s ruined me. And as he gathers me into his arms and carries me back inside, his cum still drying on my skin, his name still echoing in my bones, I find that I don’t mind at all. In fact, I can’t think of a single thing I’ve ever wanted more.