Rock All Night(105)

“Do you hate it when I f*ck you soft and slow?” he whispered in my ear.

I was arching my body now, grinding myself down on his cock, making it press harder at points where I wanted it, trying to get back that sensation of him rubbing over my g-spot.

“Yes,” I moaned, my skin heating up as I f*cked him back.

“Do you hate it when I f*ck you just a little bit faster?” he whispered, and suddenly he drove his cock into me, surprising me, making me gasp as his hips smacked against my thighs and ass.

“Yes…”

“And you hate it when I f*ck you deeper?”

He strained hard against me, and I swear I felt him go deeper than ever before.

“Yes…”

“You hate that?”

He was slipping in and out of me faster, harder, our bodies slapping wetly together.

“Yes – ”

“You hate it when I f*ck you?”

“Yes – ” I moaned, my eyes closed, as his fingers pressed harder between my legs, and my breasts slid across his sweaty chest, my nipples tickling.

“You hate it when I f*ck you so good?”

Faster, harder, thicker, deeper –

“Yes, yes – ”

I could feel his breathing becoming shallower.

“Don’t come,” I pleaded, my eyes closed, my voice high and breathy.

“I’m not going to come,” he whispered back. “Not yet. Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling it building up inside me again, sweet and aching and wanting so badly to be released.

“Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes – ”

“Are you going to come hard for me?”

My eyes were closed, and I was grinding and bucking hard against him, using every inch of his cock.

“Yes, yes – ”

“Are you going to have that gorgeous little * come all over me?”

“Oh f*ck – yes – oh God, yes – ”

The sensations were getting closer, higher, sweeter, more and more –

“Will you do something for me, Kaitlyn?”

“Yes – ”

“Do something for me, ‘cause I want to come with you – ”

“Yes, anything, yes – ”

“Are you about to come?”

“Yes, yes, God yes – ”

He took one hand and gripped the back of my hair at the nape, forced up my head so he could look me in the eyes, helpless and completely surrendered to him as I felt the surge of pleasure between my legs reach that tipping point where there was no going back.

“Scream for me when you come,” he whispered.

Suddenly I was coming, and I screamed, louder than I’d ever screamed before, the pulsing waves of pleasure shooting up from deep inside me, from where I clutched his cock with my *, riding it, feeling it deep inside me, the pleasure shooting through my legs and up my spine and into the crown of my head, pulse after pulse of bliss rolling through my skin and body and into the very core of me, and suddenly he was yelling, cursing, grunting, moaning, and I felt him explode inside me, his cock spasming and growing, one-two-three-four, faster and faster, harder and thicker, pressing against me as he rammed inside me, my hips grinding against him as my screams subsided into moans, and then I collapsed on his chest, sweaty and gasping as he held me in his arms and cradled my head against him. I could still feel his cock surging and pulsing with tiny aftershocks, one every three seconds… then every five seconds… then every seven seconds… until he stopped completely, and we just lay there, breathing at the same rate, the sweat from our bodies mingling as our skin slid against each other like wet silk.


“…I still hate you…” I whispered, mostly playful, but with a tiny core of anger I couldn’t deny.

“…I know,” he said, and I knew he was grinning from the sound of his voice.





85




So the sex was super-hot that once… although it rarely was after that.

Part of it was me – but part of it was definitely him. He almost seemed to go out of his way to be a dick sometimes. Paying more and more attention to really hot groupies backstage, or flirting more brazenly with attractive women.

For awhile I thought maybe he was doing it to provoke a reaction in me – maybe stoke the same fires that had fueled our little bout of ‘hate sex.’

And it kind of did work that once.

But you know how it feels really good sometimes to get angry? Just righteously pissed off? Super-f*cking mad?

It’s powerful. Like you have a nuclear-powered engine inside you.

But the problem is, if you don’t get over it, it starts sapping energy out of you instead of creating it. It takes a lot of fuel to keep anger going, and it starts leeching off of the energy reserves that power everything else.

And I found myself getting angry, and staying angry, more and more often.

Angry and jealous and insecure and depressed.

So if he meant it to provoke me and turn me on, it backfired. I actually stopped being responsive and wanting sex as much because I was just hurting.

And when we did have sex after that, I noticed it became less and less about foreplay and sensuality, and more just… ‘banging.’ He tended to do a perfunctory warm-up to get me halfway going, then we cut straight to the main act.