Now the harsh grip in his hair and the bite, that's what he expects from Marian Hawke. He likes the cowed, broken groans and the whimpers that tumble from her lips in lieu of groans and screams. But the bite especially makes fore burst into life through his veins, makes his cock and balls throb harder than before.
He should resist it, the waves that go through him as he bucks into her again. But why? Why should he hold back from taking what he wants? So he let's go, sinking in to her well-used cunt again and spilling inside her, hissing out a curse as he does so.
"Bad girl." He breathes, voice rough. "Should I even let you come?"
He doesn't stop though, his hips still rocking into her, the pace slower but still deep, at least for the moment.
Those last savage thrusts draw ruined whimpers from her, and more harsh kisses to his throat- but when he speaks, she draws back and looks at him- really looks. Her eyes are lidded with lust, cheeks flushed pink, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. He's still moving inside her and her lips part on a tiny, pitiful mewl of pleasure that doesn't at all reflect the screaming desire inside.
Her mouth works silently, frustrated as her hands work in his hair, gripping the back of his neck. Only one in three attempts actually has her making noise, and those soft and broken, but it's clear how emphatic she is on this. She needs to come.
She's a complete mess, and he didn't appreciate before how much of a turn on that is. Lips swollen and wet, flushed, her hair all over the place, sticking to her brow and her cheeks. The very fact she can't voice how much she wants her orgasm does terrible things to him, stirring him all over again, and he almost wants to pull out now, leave her wanting and desperate, but he can't be that cruel to her. Not when her fingers are knotted so tightly in his hair.
So he fucks into her again, with renewed vigour, his own hands grasping her ass again, nails biting into the round flesh.
"Come then." He grunts, "Show me how much you liked getting fucked with the whole of Hightown watching."
She gasps raggedly and clutches at him, one arm gripping around his shoulders so tight it has to hurt, but Hawke is so very far from caring about that. No, all she cares about is his cock inside her, the velvet voice snarling filth in her ear, the stubble rasping at her cheek and his strong hands on her. Maker, it feels so good- clinging like a limpet with one arm, she snakes the other hand between their bodies to touch herself, fingers making light quick circles around her clit. That last little burst of feeling pushes her over the edge: she arches her back and clamps her legs around him like a vise as she comes hard around his cock, making a shivering, mewling cry, ruined and pitiful, into his ear.
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He should resist it, the waves that go through him as he bucks into her again. But why? Why should he hold back from taking what he wants? So he let's go, sinking in to her well-used cunt again and spilling inside her, hissing out a curse as he does so.
"Bad girl." He breathes, voice rough. "Should I even let you come?"
He doesn't stop though, his hips still rocking into her, the pace slower but still deep, at least for the moment.
no subject
Her mouth works silently, frustrated as her hands work in his hair, gripping the back of his neck. Only one in three attempts actually has her making noise, and those soft and broken, but it's clear how emphatic she is on this. She needs to come.
no subject
So he fucks into her again, with renewed vigour, his own hands grasping her ass again, nails biting into the round flesh.
"Come then." He grunts, "Show me how much you liked getting fucked with the whole of Hightown watching."
no subject