Wall-Pinned Lust Turns Wild
I slammed Gerri against the wall the second the door clicked shut, catching both her wrists in one hand and pinning them high above her head. She went still under my grip, chest heaving, eyes locked on mine, and for one long second neither of us moved—just the sound of her breath catching, the heat radiating off her skin, the raw fact of who had who pinned. Then my mouth crushed down on hers, and she groaned into the kiss like she’d been waiting all night for someone to finally take it from her.
Her hips bucked forward, grinding against the hard line of my cock through my jeans, and that was it for patience. My free hand tore at her shirt, buttons popping and skittering across the floor, fabric ripping wide until her tits spilled out into the cold air, the shirt hanging ruined and open off her arms. She hissed at the sudden exposure, nipples already hard, and I dragged my mouth down her throat, her collarbone, biting just hard enough to make her gasp before I released her wrists at last and dropped to my knees, yanking her pants down in one rough pull. I tossed them behind me without looking, heard them hit something in the dark, already forgotten.
I buried my face between her thighs and drove my tongue straight into her, and Christ, she was already drenched, slick coating my chin, her taste flooding my mouth thick and salty-sweet. Her thighs clamped around my head like she was trying to keep me there forever. “Fuck, you’re soaked already,” I growled against her folds, and she let out a laugh that cracked into a moan halfway through. “Shut up and eat it,” she shot back, voice cocky even as her knees buckled.
I gave her exactly that. I sucked her clit into my mouth, hard, flicking my tongue in rhythm with the roll of her hips, and slid two fingers deep inside her, curling them until she cursed and grabbed a fistful of my hair. My own cock throbbed painfully against the zipper of my jeans, untouched, aching, every twitch of her hips against my mouth making it worse. I ignored it. I wanted her right on the edge before I gave myself anything. Her thighs started to shake, that first telltale flutter building around my fingers, and I pulled back just enough to keep her hanging there, dragging a broken, furious noise out of her throat.
“That’s it,” I muttered against her, voice wrecked, “take it like you came here for.” She grabbed my hair harder, grinding herself down onto my mouth like she was done letting me control the pace, and I let her, groaning against her clit until the vibration alone made her hips stutter.
I stood before she could tip over, my jaw slick and my restraint hanging by threads, and spun her toward the rug. She went down under me in a heavy missionary press, thighs falling open, bare and unhindered now, nothing left to catch or tangle. I shoved the zipper down, popped the button loose, and shoved my jeans just far enough to free myself before slamming into her in one thick, unbroken thrust. Her whole body arched off the floor. My own breath punched out of me at the feel of her—tight, scalding, soaked around my cock, gripping me so hard I had to grit my teeth just to keep from finishing right there.
I started slow at first, deep grinding rolls that dragged a moan out of both of us, her walls fluttering with every inch, my forearms braced either side of her head so I could watch her face crack open with every stroke. “Goddamn, this pussy’s greedy,” I grunted, sweat already prickling along my spine. She laughed through a gasp, nails raking hard down my back, dragging welts I’d feel tomorrow. “Says the guy who couldn’t even wait to get my clothes off,” she panted. “Harder, asshole.”
I gave her harder. I snapped my hips forward, abandoning the slow grind for something brutal and relentless, the rug burning against my knees with every drive, the wet slap of skin filling the room louder than either of our voices. Her tits bounced with the force of it, her nails dug deeper, and every clench of her pussy around my cock sent a white-hot pulse straight up my spine. My arms were shaking. My thighs were burning. I was chasing the edge right alongside her now, and I didn’t care.
Her first climax hit her like a freight train—her back bowed, her mouth fell open on a silent scream before the sound actually caught up, and her pussy clamped down around me so hard I had to stop breathing for a second just to keep from following her over. Slick flooded out around my shaft, soaking both of us, and she shook underneath me, eyes rolling, thighs trembling against my hips.
I didn’t stop. I ground into her through the spasms, keeping the rhythm brutal and steady even as she twitched and gasped beneath me, her hands shoving weakly at my chest. “No tapping out,” I taunted, voice wrecked and rough against her ear. “Take the second one.”
“I can’t—” she started, and I cut her off with a deep, punishing thrust that made her back arch again. Her whole body had gone hypersensitive, every nerve ending screaming, and she twisted under me like she was trying to escape her own pleasure, hands scrabbling at my shoulders, at the rug, anywhere. I moved my hands from beside her head down to her hips, pinning them flat, and kept driving, watching her face contort somewhere between agony and ecstasy as the second wave built faster than the first, cruel and relentless, her thighs shaking so hard they knocked against my sides.
“You’re gonna feel this one in your teeth,” I growled, watching her fight it and lose, watching her mouth drop open on a raw, broken sound that wasn’t quite a word anymore. Her pussy seized around me again, clenching so tight it bordered on painful, her whole body locking rigid before it broke apart in a shuddering, involuntary spasm, a scream tearing out of her that she clearly hadn’t given permission for.
She came back to herself cursing, chest heaving, and shoved at me with more strength than I expected. “Up,” she managed, hauling on my shoulders. “Chair. Now.”
I pulled out of her and we scrambled up off the rug in a tangle of limbs, her legs unsteady enough that I caught her waist to keep her upright. She hauled me by the collar the two steps to the armchair until my knees hit the cushion and I dropped into it, and only then did she climb over me, knees braced on either side of my thighs. She didn’t wait for permission. She gripped the base of my cock and sank down onto me in one frantic, dripping drop that punched the air straight out of my lungs.
The angle was different here—deeper, tighter, her weight doing the work now instead of mine, and I groaned out loud at the sudden shift, my hands flying to her hips on instinct. “Christ, Gerri—”
“Who’s greedy now?” she panted, already rocking, her oversensitive clit dragging against me with every roll of her hips, her rhythm wild and uneven from the aftershocks still rattling through her. “Feels like somebody’s about to lose control.”
“Keep talking,” I gritted out, hips snapping up to meet her, “see how long you last.”
She rode me hard, bouncing faster, her nails digging into my shoulders, her breath breaking apart into short, desperate gasps every time I filled her to the hilt. My own climax was building fast now, an unbearable tightness coiling low and vicious, every clench of her body around mine dragging me closer to the edge I’d been denying myself since the rug.
“Come on,” she panted, grinding down harder, voice cracked and cocky even now, “fill me. Let’s see if you can actually finish before I do.”
That did it. I gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and drove up into her, meeting every downward roll with a brutal snap of my own, and the pressure broke loose all at once—a raw, guttural sound tearing out of my throat as I came, hips jerking erratically, my whole body seizing as I emptied into her in hard, pulsing waves that left my vision white at the edges.
Gerri rocked through the last of it, milking me dry with slow, deliberate grinds, a satisfied, wrecked little laugh shaking out of her chest. She finally went still, sweat-slicked and smug, and shoved my shoulder back against the chair.
“Guess that settles it,” she said, breathless but already smirking, peeling herself off me with a slow, filthy drag. “I win.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I said, voice wrecked. She was already reaching for her ruined shirt, not bothering to argue the point further, and I decided I was fine losing that one.