Teeth drag soaked strip for one long lick

Sterling’s belt buckle snapped in his fist. The broken half hit the penthouse floor and skidded under the console table. He ripped his own fly open with the same hand, button gone, zipper dragged down, and the trousers sagged on his hips. Then he yanked Beatrice’s zipper down the back of her skirt, shoved the skirt up around her hips, bunched the fabric in one hand, and dropped to his knees in front of the locked door. His mouth went straight onto her through her underwear. He dragged the soaked strip aside with his teeth and licked up her cunt in one long stroke.

Her back hit the door. She grabbed his hair. He sucked her clit hard, no warmup, two fingers pushing into her at the same time. She was wet from the elevator, wet from the shouting in the boardroom, wet from watching him across the table for three hours. His fingers slid in without resistance. He curled them and pressed up and her thighs started to shake against his shoulders.

He worked her in short strokes. Tongue flat, then the point of it, then his lips closing over her clit and pulling. Every time he took his mouth off her there was a small suck of sound, and then his mouth was back. She heard him breathing through his nose. She heard his fingers moving in her, a slick push and drag. His jaw was working under her hand. She could feel the muscle of it flex against her inner thigh when he opened wider.

She yanked his hair and pulled his face where she wanted it. Higher. He went higher. She pushed down on him and he took it, his tongue flicking fast now, his fingers fucking her in a steady rhythm that she started to ride. Her hips lost the beat first. They jerked, stalled, jerked again. She hooked her left leg over his shoulder and dug her heel into his back to stay upright. Her other knee kept trying to fold. He grabbed the back of her thigh and held her open and kept going. His chin was soaked. She could see it shine when he tilted his head. Her thighs shook hard enough that she heard her skirt rustle against the door. She was panting, short and loud, and every third breath came out as a sound she didn’t choose.

He shoved her leg off his shoulder. Her heel hit the floor. He stood up fast. His trousers were hanging open off his hips. He pulled his cock out over the waistband of his briefs, thick, the head dark and already leaking. He shoved it between her legs and ground up against her. Half-clothed. Her skirt rucked around her waist, his shirt still buttoned, his trousers sliding lower with every push. The head dragged through her slickness and caught on her clit, hung there, then slid past. Then back. Drag and catch. Drag and catch. The door creaked on its hinges each time he shoved her into it. The frame knocked against the wall. Her wetness spread down his shaft and onto the open fly of his trousers, darkening the fabric.

She grabbed his ass and hauled him harder against her. He put his mouth on hers. His chin was wet with her. She tasted herself on his tongue. She bit his lower lip and held it between her teeth until he grunted, then let go. He didn’t stop moving. The underside of his cock slid over her clit and she heard it, a small slick sound under the louder sound of their breathing. Her hips bucked to meet him. The door creaked. His breath hit her cheek in hard bursts.

She shoved his trousers and briefs the rest of the way down his thighs. He ripped her blouse open. Two buttons hit the floor and rolled. He yanked the cups of her bra down so her tits came out over the top and put his mouth on one nipple, sucking hard, still grinding into her. She reached down and wrapped her hand around him. She stroked him against herself, dragging the head over her clit in tight circles, then down to her opening, pressing just the tip in, then back up. He hissed through his teeth. His hips jerked forward and the head slipped in half an inch. She pulled him back out and kept rubbing. He bit her nipple. She pushed him against her clit harder.

He toed his shoes off one at a time without taking his mouth off her. The trousers and briefs dropped to his ankles together. He stepped out of the tangle, kicked it aside, then pulled her off the door by the arm. She kicked her heels off. He shoved the open skirt down over her hips and it fell to the floor and she stepped clear of it. She hooked her underwear and stepped out of that too. She grabbed his shirt in both fists and ripped it open. Buttons scattered across the floor and pinged off the console table leg. He tore the cuffs himself, one hard yank each, and dragged the shirt down off his arms and threw it. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders, reached back, and unhooked the bra. Bare. He was bare too, hard, wet from her, watching her.

She put both hands on his chest and shoved him backward toward the bed. He went. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he sat down hard. She stood over him for one second. Then she turned around. She gave him her back on purpose. She didn’t want his face. She straddled his thighs facing the door, reached back, took his cock in her hand, lined it up, and dropped.

He went in all at once. She felt him bottom out. She sat there for one breath with him deep inside her, stretching her, and then she planted her hands on his thighs and started to bounce.

Her ass smacked down on his hips. Up, and the drag of him pulling nearly out of her. Down, and the smack. The sound of her cunt taking him was loud, a squelch on every drop. His hands found her hips. His thumbs dug into the soft skin just above the bone hard enough that she knew there would be marks tomorrow. He pushed her up and then pulled her down instead of letting her rise, and the sound changed, a heavier clap, deeper, his hips lifting to meet her at the same time. She grunted. He did it again.

She looked back over her shoulder at him. He was watching her ass. Then he looked up and met her eyes. His mouth was open. His chest was moving fast. She held his stare and rode him harder, letting him see her face, letting him see she wasn’t hiding it. He pulled her down again, a hard clap of skin, and she turned back around and leaned forward with her hands on his knees.

The angle went deeper. Her tits swung with every bounce. Her cunt gripped him on every upstroke and she could hear the suck of it when she rose, the sticky pull of him almost coming out before she dropped again. The bed frame started to knock the wall. His breathing was ragged now, a rasp on every exhale. Hers was worse. Sweat ran down her stomach. Her thighs burned. She kept going.

He folded forward over her back. His chest pressed flat against her and the sweat between them slid, his skin sticking and unsticking to hers. One arm went around her waist and locked her down. He fucked up into her from underneath while she ground down. He hit the end of her on every stroke. She cried out once, short, a bark, then went back to panting. He got two fingers on her clit and rubbed. She clenched around him hard. He groaned against her shoulder, a low sound through his teeth. The bed knocked the wall. The smack of skin was constant now, no gaps, his hips hitting her ass and her ass hitting his hips and the squelch between.

He hauled her off him by the hips and stood, taking her up with him. She made an ugly sound in her throat at the loss of him. Her feet hit the floor, her back to his chest, the door still in front of her. He spun her by the waist. She came around to face him and he didn’t stop the turn. He stepped sideways and kept swinging her, one full pivot, until the door was at his back and the edge of the mattress was behind her knees. Then he got an arm behind her back and drove her down. She grabbed his shoulders on the way and dragged him with her. They hit together, her on her back, him on top, his knee slamming between hers, and he shoved back inside her before they had stopped moving. One hard push. All the way.

Face to face now. He braced on his forearms over her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles behind his back. He drove into her, long strokes, his hips smacking down against hers. Their bodies were slick. Her tits dragged against his chest. Sweat dripped off his forehead onto her cheek. She could hear the mattress springs and the suck of him pulling back and the clap of him hitting home and both of them breathing like they had been running.

They stared at each other. Neither blinked. He slammed in harder. She dug her nails into his back and dragged them down. He didn’t flinch. She felt him swell inside her, getting thicker, and she clenched down on purpose and watched his jaw go tight. His eyes were dark and fixed on hers. He didn’t look at her mouth or her tits. Just her eyes.

“Don’t look away,” he said. His voice cracked in the middle.

She didn’t answer. She rolled her hips up to meet him and squeezed him again.

He hit her clit with every stroke now, his pelvis grinding down at the bottom of each thrust. She was close. She could feel it in her thighs, in the way her ankles were locking tighter without her telling them to. He was close too. His rhythm was falling apart. His arms shook on either side of her head. His breath caught in his throat, a click on every inhale.

She came first. Her cunt clamped down on him in hard pulses. Her mouth opened and a long, broken groan came out of it. Her thighs shook against his sides. She held his eyes through all of it. She didn’t look away and she didn’t close them and she didn’t soften her face. She let him watch her come like it was a dare.

He kept fucking her through it. Three more strokes, hard and uneven. Then his hips slammed in and stayed. He came with his teeth bared, a groan forced out through them, his cock jerking inside her, filling her in thick pulses she could feel. His back locked under her hands. His thighs locked against hers. He stared straight down into her face the whole time and he did not blink. His eyes stayed open and on hers like closing them would be conceding something.

“Look,” she said. One word. She didn’t know what she meant by it.

He looked.

He collapsed onto her. His weight came down all at once. His chest heaved against hers. He was still inside her, still twitching. She kept her legs around him. Their clothes were on the floor in pieces. The penthouse was silent except for the two of them breathing and the small wet shift of him inside her when he moved a fraction. She felt him start to soften. She didn’t let go. He didn’t pull out.

She was already running the numbers. Which of them had made the first move at the door. Which of them had turned their back. Who had said don’t look away and who had said look. She could feel his shoulders tensing under her hands, the muscles going hard again, like he was doing the same math. Neither of them moved. Neither of them was going to move first.