Marks

Fire-crackers in the east my car parked south 

Your hands on my cheeks your shoulder in my mouth

I was up against the wall on the west mezzanine

We rattle this town, we rattle this scene

Anna Sun – Walk The Moon 

One hand wrapped in her hair, the other at her throat. She was a wet, tight grip; hotter and hotter every time I pushed into her cunt. 

Her pulse flickered beneath my palm and I groaned when she clenched tight around me. She was so close to coming and I just wanted to push her over the edge. 

I let her hair slither from my fingers, my palm at her throat stopping her head from dropping to the bed like I knew she wanted. She gripped me harder when I squeezed at her throat. For a moment I wasn’t sure she’d come before I spilled inside her. I slowed, my valiant attempt to regain some control. When I slid in deep, she squeezed like she was determined to keep me in place forever. 

I gave her hip a smack and leaned over her back to kiss behind her ear. 

“Bad girl. You know you have to come before you can have mine.” I let my teeth graze her ear. 

She whimpered, her plea strangled by my control. I leaned over her more, determined to keep my grip and my rhythm. One finger on her clit and I felt her go stiff. 

Nearly there.  

I slid my lips back along her nape and down to her shoulder. My teeth sank deep into the flesh between shoulder and neck, and the taste of her skin was heaven. She shuddered hard then relaxed into me. 

With her shoulder in my mouth, her cunt gripping my cock, and her clit under my fingertips it took willpower not to come. My reward was the way she screamed. I loosened my grasp on her throat just to enjoy that sound. 

And my desire to hold out, to coax one more climax from her evaporated under the buck of her body as it sucked me in. A man can only be so strong for so long.

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