Chapter Eighteen #2
He stops me right in the middle of the sidewalk, tilting my chin up. Bending down so his lips brush the shell of my ear, he whispers, “There is one exception to the rule, of course.”
“What would that be?” My mouth waters as his fingers dance across the hem of my dress, and I’m reminded of his promise to me earlier.
His finger slips between my legs, and he reaches the apex of my thighs. I let out a small gasp as he tickles his fingers delicately over my sensitive flesh.
“This pussy, Olivia. I own it.” He pushes a little further in, and I glance around the empty street. To anyone, it would look like we’re embracing. In reality, I’m dripping down his fingers.
“Mmhmm, anything. You can have anything.”
“Just this will do. And maybe your ass.” He winks. Withdrawing his fingers, he slips them between his lips. “Delicious.”
“You’re crazy.” I laugh, taking his hand and dragging him back to the hotel.
◆◆◆
Our lips press together hard as he hikes my leg up around his waist. All sense of propriety gone as I grind my bare pussy against his crotch.
His fingertips dig into my flesh as we vie for control.
The elevator door dings open, and we fall through.
He swipes the key card, fumbling with it until the little light turns green.
I jump up, wrapping my legs around him. He carries me into the room, his tongue licking mine, his teeth biting at my lower lip.
I pull the strands of his hair between my fingers and tug hard.
He groans, throwing me onto the couch. I scramble, attempting to use my strength to pull him down on top of me.
But this is where he has me beat. You can’t beat those solid, broad muscles he has.
Pulling me down by my hips, my butt sits close to the edge of the couch as my head is pushed up against the cushions.
It’s not a flattering angle, but Austin doesn't seem to care, and at least like this, I have a perfect view of him diving face-first into my pussy. But I can’t arch my back; the position restricts the stretch I like to feel throughout my body.
He takes one final languid lick with the flat of his tongue before flipping me over.
My knees hit the carpet as he pushes me down onto the sofa, my face squishing into the couch cushion.
The weight of his chest is flush against my back as I feel his hard cock nestle between my ass cheeks.
We’re not even undressed. My dress is still on.
Hiked up over my hips so I’m bare for him to see, but he’s not even taken his shirt off.
His slacks are on, even his fucking shoes.
I’m aching to feel the heat of his skin against mine, but this feels dirty in the most delicious way.
The slap of his belt rings through the air as he wraps it around my middle. Holding on to both ends, he pulls it tight, and my ass slams into his crotch.
“I’m gonna fuck you hard, Olivia. If you want to stop, you just say stop, okay?" His voice is so deep I barely recognize it.
“Please, Austin.”
“So good at begging, baby,” he teases.
The sound of his zipper accompanies my heavy breathing. I hear him pull himself out, tugging at his erection as he lines up with the entrance of my soaked pussy. He slides in gently, nothing stopping him as he glides like a skater on fresh ice.
He pulls out slowly. “You ready, baby?”
“Yes. Please, Austin, I want it rough.”
“Fuck, Olivia.” He pushes again.
I expect him to start slamming into me, but he doesn’t. He grinds deep, using the belt to pull me against him tighter.
His pace quickens, but the rolls continue.
My ex used to fuck me like a jackhammer, just slamming repeatedly.
But this is different. Austin isn’t gentle.
He’s fucking me hard, but his cock is rolling in and out, reaching the deep spot near my cervix.
His relentless penetration has moans rolling free from my lips.
“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” I beg him.
He drops the belt, pinching a nipple as his palm spreads against my chest, lifting me flush against his chest. His lips meet my neck; he bites, licks, nips. The heat in my belly is coiling tight, ready to spring open.
His zipper and slacks rub against the back of my thighs, and I’m reminded of how this must look: two people who couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, they had to start fucking half on the floor.
He pinches my nipple hard, and then his hand snakes up to my throat.
“Do you trust me, Killer?”
His hand is ready to squeeze, but he’s waiting for my okay.
My head moves up and down before I’ve really considered my options.
But do I need them? I trust him to make me feel good.
I trust him to stop if it doesn’t. His thumb and forefingers squeeze the side of my neck.
The blood flow is restricted, and he starts to pound into me.
My pussy drenches his cock as he releases my neck, squeezing harder next time.
Thrusting, squeezing, releasing. Thrusting, squeezing, releasing. The pattern of his fucking sends me into a frenzy.
My hips ache from being stretched, the pressure lifting me higher and higher. I groan out, and my pussy starts to strangle his cock the way his hand is my throat.
“I’m coming,” I cry out.
He releases my throat instantly, grabbing both my hips and pounding into me harder and harder.
“Please don’t stop, Austin, baby. Please, please, please.”
Each wave of my orgasm crashes through my stomach, my chest, and my legs; I can feel it in my toes. I’m crying, tears streaming down my face, the intensity of this flowing out of me.
His grip on my hips tightens, and some sick part of me hopes it bruises. I want his mark on me; I want to feel this for days after.
I tilt my ass up a little more for him and engage my muscles, squeezing him until I feel him swell even more.
“Fuck, baby. I’m coming now. Give me a little more.”
I squeeze again. Reaching my hand between my legs, I roll his balls in my hand. His movements become more jagged, his cock pulsing in me as he unloads his warm seed, coating my walls. Fuck, I love this.
We’re covered in a thin layer of sweat as he leans his weight over me, my chest pushing back into the couch. He pulls out of me, and I twist to look at him.
“Fuck, did I hurt you?” He takes my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs. The anguish on his face shows me just how much this man cares for me.
I’m shaking. “No, of course not, that was perfect. Just a lot. I think I can still feel you inside me.”
“You’re sure?” His voice wavers.
“I’d tell you if I didn’t like something. That was the biggest orgasm of my life. I think my body didn’t know what to do.” I laugh.
“As long as you’re sure,” he murmurs, brow furrowed.
His rough hands trail lightly over my thighs, before he pushes his hands beneath me and carries me across the room.
“Austin!” I cling to his neck, realizing that my ass is exposed. I feel the evidence of his release seeping from my sex. He strides to the bathroom, carrying me as if I weigh nothing, carefully placing me on the tiled floor.
Turning the golden hands on the clawfoot tub, he sprinkles in some Epsom salts and some oils the hotel has left us.
As the bubbles grow, he tests the water with his hand.
Letting the water run, he begins unbuttoning his shirt.
The man just fucked me over a couch, and yet, the slow seduction of undoing his buttons has my heart thumping like a racehorse on derby day.
He smirks. “Strip.” He nods to my dress.
Mirroring his slow dance of movements, I slip one strap off my shoulder, caressing my collarbone as I move to the other side.
The satin dress slips down my body, bunching at the curve of my hip.
I wriggle it loose until it hits the floor.
The hiss of zipper rings in my ear, and his slacks hit the floor along with my dress.
He climbs into the tub, sinking beneath the bubbles. He takes my hand and supports me as I sink down into the tub, my back leaning against his chest. I’m nestled between his thighs, and I feel him adjust himself as he hardens behind me.
“Ready to go again, old man?”
“Is that the nickname you’ve chosen for me, Killer?” He nips at my ear, tugging my earlobe between his teeth.
“If the shoe fits.” I laugh, leaning my head back against his shoulder.
He holds me against him, his arm resting over my lower ribcage, pulling me tight against him. I’m so small compared to him; I love how he cages me in.
I sigh, closing my eyes, the warmth of the water engulfing me as the heat from Austin presses into my back. My fingertips skate over his thighs and up to his knees. I repeat the process, back and forth encouraged by the soft groans I hear humming by my ear.
After a few minutes of silence, I finally find the courage to ask him, “What did you mean when you said you’d worked very hard the last few years to build a different life?”
He stiffens behind me; the water sloshes as he shifts. I press my back into him, using my foot at the end of the tub to anchor me against his chest.
“Are you trapping me in the bath, Olivia?”
I twist my neck so I can assess his face. He’s grinning.
“Maybe. You know how I like control.”
“Ah, yes, but I also know how out of control you love to be as well. ”
His hand slithers down my stomach. His fingertips trail across the tops of my thighs, but I snap my hand over his to stop him. I bend my knee so I’m no longer pushed against him, and I turn.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But tell me. Don’t try to distract me with sex.”
His lips part for a moment before pressing together in a flat line.