Rough Praise Meets Matching Fury
Nick’s hands slammed me back against the door, his mouth crashing onto mine before my spine even finished cracking into the panel. The argument died mid-syllable under the frantic grind of his hips; my half-shoved skirt was already rucked up around my waist, the thin fabric of my panties the only barrier left as he rutted against me like he’d been starving for years. I tasted blood where his lip split against mine, felt the bruise blooming under his grip on my thigh as he hauled one leg up around his hip and drove that thick, clothed cock right against my soaked cunt.
“Fuck, look at you,” he snarled against my mouth, voice rough and worshipful even while he bit down on my lower lip. “Taking me like this already—your body’s out of its mind right now, so wet, so ready. Been waiting for this, haven’t you?” His fingers shoved the soaked crotch of my panties aside and two thick digits speared into me without warning, curling hard. I cried out, head thunking back against the door, and he just kept praising through clenched teeth. “That’s it, squeeze me just like that. Christ, the way you open up for me.”
He wrenched his fingers out of me so fast the loss of them ached, a hollow throb that made me claw at his shirt for something to hold. Then his hand was fisted in my hair, forcing my head down, and my knees buckled under the pressure of it, dragging my back down the door in a slow scrape before I hit the carpet hard enough to sting. My skirt bunched higher, catching under one knee. I didn’t fight the descent—I chased it, hands already tearing at his belt, the zipper, the desperate shove of fabric until his cock sprang free, hot and heavy, glistening at the tip, jerking against his stomach like it hurt him to be free of the denim. He shoved the waistband down just far enough to clear himself, leaving it slung low on his hips, and I swallowed him down in one greedy lunge, choking myself on the thick length while he groaned like he’d been punched.
His fists knotted tighter in my hair, hips snapping forward, fucking my throat with short brutal strokes while the words kept pouring out of him, filthy and reverent. “God, your mouth—look at how well you’re taking every inch. That throat was built for exactly this, wasn’t it? Swallowing me down like you need it more than air.” Spit ran down my chin; my eyes watered; I hollowed my cheeks and dragged my tongue along the underside until his thighs shook under my palms. The taste of him flooded me, salt and heat, and every filthy word out of his mouth made my cunt clench around nothing, dripping onto the carpet beneath me.
He hauled me up by the hair, and the room tilted for a second, my knees unsteady, blood rushing loud in my ears as he spun me and shoved my panties down my thighs until the seam tore. I kicked, once, twice, until they came free entirely and skidded somewhere under the desk—gone, forgotten, no fabric left anywhere to catch on anything. He caught my hip, guiding me back toward the desk—but I twisted out of his hands instead, shoved him into the desk chair behind him, and stood over him a second just to look. His cock stood flushed and slick against his stomach, chest heaving, shirt rucked up where I’d clawed it. I turned my back to him, straddling his lap in reverse, knees bracketing his thighs on the chair’s armrests, one of his hands gripping my hip to steady me while I reached down between us and notched him right where I needed him. I dropped—one brutal slide that punched the air from both our lungs at once.
His free hand tore up under the hem of my blouse from behind, the other still anchored hard on my hip, and I felt every button give against my skin where he yanked the fabric open one-handed, cool office air hitting my chest a half-second before that same hand abandoned the ruined blouse and closed hot and rough over my bra, shoving the cups down so he could maul my tits while I started to move. Slow first—just testing the stretch, feeling him twitch inside me—then harder. I dropped my full weight down onto him, again, again, the slap of skin filling the room, wet and obscene, his balls soaked with how badly I wanted this.
“Christ, yes—look at that body working me,” Nick growled against the back of my neck, teeth scraping my shoulder, one hand bruising my hip for leverage while the other slid around to rub vicious circles over my clit. I ground down harder, chasing his fingers, and he laughed low and wrecked against my skin. “That’s it. Ride me like you own me.” The chair creaked under us with every drop, a warning groan of wood and hinges that only made me move faster, reckless, thighs burning from the effort of slamming myself down onto him.
“Feel that? Feel how deep you’re taking me?” His hips snapped up to meet every downward slam, the collision loud and desperate, and I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his knees, changing the angle so he dragged against a spot that made my vision blur. “There it is—there’s that clench. You’re strangling me, you know that? Nobody’s ever fucked me like this.” The praise kept shifting, kept sharpening, no two lines the same, and each one landed somewhere low in my belly like a hook dragging me closer to the edge. My thighs shook. The chair legs scraped against the floor an inch with the force of it. I felt him swell impossibly thicker inside me, felt my own slick running down over him, and the sound of us—wet, relentless, skin on skin—swallowed every other noise in the room.
“Look at you soaking me,” he rasped, breath ragged now, control fraying. “You’re going to fucking end me. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.” I ground harder, my whole body strung tight, a coiling pressure low and mean building behind my hipbones, spreading heat down the backs of my thighs. He felt it too—felt the stutter in my rhythm, the way my cunt started fluttering around him uncontrolled—and before I could finish the thought his arms locked hard under my thighs.
He stood in one explosive surge, hauling me up off the chair with him, and I gasped at the sudden emptiness as he lifted me clean off his cock, spinning me in the same motion before I even had my feet under me. My back hit the wall a heartbeat later, his mouth crashing back onto mine, and then he was driving into me again, filling me in one hard stroke as my legs locked around his waist. Zero leverage. Weightless. Free-falling onto his cock with every powerful thrust as he fucked up into me mid-air, holding my whole weight like I weighed nothing at all. The angle was devastating—my vision actually whited out at the edges, sound narrowing to a single ringing note, my body no longer registering where the wall ended and he began. The climax hit like a wire snapping. My cunt locked down in vicious pulses, squirting around him, body thrashing in his grip with nowhere to go while I screamed into his shoulder, teeth sinking into the fabric of his shirt.
“That’s it, give it to me, all of it,” he groaned, voice breaking apart, and then he followed with a raw shout, burying himself to the hilt and flooding me in thick hot spurts, hips stuttering as he kept me pinned and weightless through every jet, my whole body still shaking against the wall in his arms.
We stayed locked like that for a shuddering second, his forearms trembling with the effort of holding me, then his knees buckled. He carried me the few stumbling steps across the office to the leather couch against the far wall, collapsing us both into a tangled missionary sprawl without ever pulling out. My legs stayed wrapped around his waist; his cock stayed buried deep, still twitching, still hard enough to keep me full while the aftershocks rolled through both of us. Sweat slicked every inch where our skin met. His mouth found my ear, voice wrecked and low now, still praising in broken half-sentences. “So good. God, so good—still squeezing me, feel that—” His hips gave tiny helpless rolls, dragging another flutter out of me, and I clung tighter, nails dragging down his damp back, both of us trembling through the last waves, his heartbeat slamming hard and fast against my chest, matching mine beat for beat until neither of us could tell whose pulse we were feeling anymore.