Page 39 of Come Take Me Now

“Fuck it,” I groan. “Why are you always wearing so fucking much?” I complain. Her leggings are molded to her legs. “That was rhetorical. Get these off, or I’m ripping them.”

“I got them.” She kicks off her slides, and her hands reach for the waistband. She yanks the tight fabric down until she can kick them off entirely. When she straightens out, I reach for the low neckline of her tank top and lower it to expose her boobs. Her nipples are firm, pointing upward, begging to be devoured. “Now, who’s wearing too much?” she jokes.

“Get on your knees.”

She says nothing and kneels on the hardwood in front of me. She reaches for my belt, but my fingers beat her to it. I whip the smooth leather through the loops of my jeans and toss it to the side. Her fingers are still on the waistband of my jeans, and she looks like a kid eager to unwrap a present. I unbutton the top button and yank the rest of the fly open. My cock springs out, making her jump back.

You took it just fine two days ago.

“Will this hurt you?” she asks, gripping me firmly at my base. She gently runs her hand down my shaft, over the ladder piercings.

I shake my head. “No.”

She gives me a few rubs, but the moment she brings me into her mouth, I let out a deeply rooted groan. Tilly swirls her tongue over my shaft and brushes it over the piercings on the underside, one by one. Then she uses the tip of her tongue to explore the Prince Albert ring adorning the head, and the sensation sends a shudder down my spine. I don’t want to come in her mouth, but I need to show her who’s in charge. I grip the back of her head and thrust. I know she’ll choke, and her eyes will water from this, but she can handle it.

My cock down her throat almost feels as good as her pussy, and that’s where it’s going next. I release my grip on her head to withdraw before I reach the point of no return, and she gasps as her windpipe is freed. “If you were teaching me a lesson, I think I learned it.”

I smirk down at her. “Good.” I nod toward the couch. “Go kneel on the couch.”

She moves to rest her forearms on the back of the couch and kneels on the cushions as directed. I drag my fingers through where her legs are parted, and she’s wet. For me. For this.

I knew you couldn’t stay away once I stretched you.

“I’m not wrapping it,” I say, my voice hoarse from how aroused I am. I brush my tip along her center without entering.

“I know,” she replies.

I caress her round, toned ass and rest my hands on her hips. I press inside her, and she accommodates my girth. She took all of it last time, and I expect her to again. I inch in slowly, but then she slams her hips back to take the rest and lets out a loud moan.

Alright then, Tilly came to play.

I press my fingers into her hips and drive myself into her over and over to the point that she presses her face into the back cushion and lets it muffle her screams. Her hips continue to meet my thrusts.

I pull out long enough to drop onto the couch next to her and pull her into my lap before she can register what happened. She rests her back against my abs, and she can control the pace and depth this way. I’m surprised when she replicates the same fast pace I used with her when I was in control.

To fulfill a fantasy I once had of her, I wrap her long tendrils in my hand and give her hair a slight yank. She gasps out at the pain, but it only makes her ride me harder.

“I’m gonna come,” I warn her after a beat.

“Okay,” she breathes out.

That’s not a no or a stop, so I grip her hips to hold her still. I keep myself buried in her and let go of everything, pressing my face into her back while I drain my balls in her.

That escalated fucking fast.

Tuesday

I tap my fingers on my desk all day long. I have work to focus on, but all I can do is picture Tilly breathing hard on my living room couch. Full of my cum. Teasing me about a round two.

The round two I gave her.

I should be more relaxed today after last night, but I’ve had this nagging sensation in the back of my mind that I’m forgetting a task or missing an important deadline. Everything is covered, despite how many times I check my email and messages. My schedule is clear, and I haven’t missed any meeting reminders. May is closed out, timecards from last week are signed off on…

What the fuck is going on?

These things never bothered me until Tilly came into my life. Nothing has changed. I’m laser-focused on work, and she doesn’t text me much during the workday, if at all. I knot my fingers into my loose bun and rest my elbows on the desk.

Everything is fine, everything is fine, everything is fine.