Simone_.Talks

the words unintentionally stung, and his jaw clenches to your gentle squeeze of assurance at his biceps.

"i'll see you next monday?"

his gaze doesn't quite meet yours.

"mhm."

he wasn't a good man at all.

a good man wouldn't stand in the gentle warmth left behind by an unsuspecting, diligent girl. selfishly taking in the lingering scent of fabric softener and coffee she left in her wake.

a good man wouldn't then sink into the couch, with hands clutched around a jumper his child's babysitter left on the kitchen counter, pressing the knitted cotton flush to his face.

and a good man…would certainly not be stroking his cock desperately, fantasizing fucking you while taking deep inhales of your fuzzy grey jumper.

the cycle of his indulgence often started like this. he'd sear a memory that he had of you in his mind, and entertain the twitch of his cock it'd incite. today? today, it was the sight of you in the kitchen, hair twisted up with a 2B Pencil, seated on his countertops like you were his. you hopped off the granite with a smile, eagerly showing him the very eloquent chicken-scratches peanut had written all on her own.

the guilt was seeping through the rational part of his mind, but it wasn't enough for him to stop tightening his fist, coaxing the droplets of pre from the reddened, thick tip, smearing it over his throbbing length.

"ah…shit…"

his hands wouldn't stop. head tipped back as his eyes were screwed shut. letting the stuttered whisper of your name echo frighteningly loud in the vast space.

except this time, the call doesn't go unanswered.

"…clark?"

your careful, hesitant call came as an ice-cold wash to him. clark's eyes snap open, to see you, standing by the back entrance to his house that he often left unlocked. your gaze lands on the jumper he had fisted, limp by his sides.

"i…forgot…my jumper."

he has enough sense in him to tug his sweats back up, though the evident press of his erection on the fabric couldn't quite be hidden. he looked absolutely destroyed, "i — …this…this isn't…"

clark swallows thickly, shakily holding up your jumper.

"i'm so, so fuckin' sorry."

the only evidence of your presence being your stuttered breath, the jumper left unretrieved in his hold.

"i understand if you want to stop working here. or — or if you want to talk to someone. i-i fucked up." he's spiraling. more and more as the silence stretched. "i won't make excuses. i'm just —"

the thud of your purse has him tilting his head up. very briefly catching your silhouette approach him, and then drop from his eyeline. clark blinks confusedly, gaze flicking to find yours as you situated yourself between his parted knees. carefully bringing your cheeks to rest against his throbbing bulge.

he had to be dreaming still.

"this is how you thought of me? all this time?"

clark doesn't manage to get a single word out, only the heavy bob of his adam's apple in fear that he might wake up, and you'd disappear again.

the softness of your cheeks testingly rub up his clothed length, and you rise higher on your knees, shyly tugging at his sweats — enough for the peak of his angry, leaky red tip.

"…can i?"

he thinks he might've nodded.

you press a gentle kiss, watching it twitch instantaneously at the contact. the reaction he gives makes you bolder, pulling at his waistband hard enough to watch the rigid length slap against his abdomen.

"were you…touching yourself thinking about me?"

clark's jaw clenched hard. shaking his head slow. "don't make me answer that, please." he manages.

you hum thoughtfully, licking a stripe up his length. he hisses. hand coming up to rest at the back of your head, not to push, but to ground himself.

"why not? i wanna know."

"cuz it's fucked up." he grits, thighs shaking with restraint from simply bucking into your mouth.

"what's fucked up? that you dream of me, or that you've been fucking your fist all alone when i'm so willingly giving it to you now?"

clark doesn't answer, tracking your gaze with a bated breath as you teasingly drag the softness of your lips down the prominent vein of his cock.

"the latter. just…fuck." he lets out a soft breath, palm casing your jaw as you explore him shamelessly. his thumbs come up to rest on your cheekbones. "got no business entertaining some washed-up asshole like me when you could have the attention of…boys your age."

your smaller palm wraps the base of his girth, slapping the tip of his cock to your tongue. "attention's no good to me when it's not who i really want it from."

the insinuation settles deep, forcing a incredulous laugh out of him. "an' that's supposed to be me? you're kidding."

"why is that so hard to believe? you're…really hot."

"jesus…can't be saying shit like that t'me." he groans.

"because it's…inappropriate." you point out.

you feel his palm hook on the underside of your arm, tugging you up once, and swiftly manouvering you under him on the couch. the change in position knocks the breath out of you, forcing your thighs awkwardly spread apart so far that it makes you feel exposed.

"because i wont bother playing the nice guy anymore" he murmurs low, breath warming the side of your head. "you hear me? so, if you're just…messing around, push me away. now."

you consider his words, the obvious out he's giving you. but then you lift your hips, enough for a decisive roll against his erection.

"christ." clark's head slumps to the crook of your neck. relaxing his pelvis flush onto your core, letting you feel the full pressure of his arousal. you respond with another shaky grind, to which he twitches even harder.

"sure you can keep up?"

he pulls back, feeling the curve of a smile dimple at his cheeks.

"you know who exactly you're talking to?"

"…some washed-up…asshole…" you drawl, only to be met with a hard, stern tug, the hard length pressing firm against your abomen. it makes you gasp, when you realise that it nearly brushes against your sternum.

"watch it."

you gulp at his threat, a shuddered breath leaving you when his palm slides to your belly. skimming past your waistband, to where you were aching the most. instinctively, you rock your hips to his exploratory touches. short, needy gasps leaving you as he rubs past your folds. your hands squeeze at his wrists, encouraging the notion.

somehow, the sight of his hand, disappeared entirely beneath your waistband, only served to make you wetter. the taboo of it all was sinking in — the vastness of the living room, and the fact that peanut was asleep just upstairs.

"gosh…barely touched you an' you're soaking." it's an observation meant for himself that you manage to catch. and it burns your cheeks in embarrassment, forcing you to hide your face in the cushions.

clark notes your sudden aversion, palms casing your jaw and tilting you back to face his hot gaze. "c'mon now. i didn't wait this long to fuck you, only for you to hide that pretty face from me."

you hiccup in brief surprise, meeting his gaze through your lashes. he holds you in place just like that, locking his deeper blue eyes onto yours. he deftly slides two of his thick digits into you. the dull squelches grow louder and louder, leaving you raw and achy for more. his free hand hooks under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them off you in a swift motion.

your hips lift, chasing the motion that steadily warms your belly with want. "needy girl. one more, okay? it's gonna hurt if i fuck you now." an impatient whine tears through your throat, thighs clamping down on him when his thumb steadily rubs at your clit.

the third digit slides into you with ease, and he starts scissoring, stretching your pussy to accommodate him.

"okay…okay. it's —" he grunts, ridding you of his fingers suddenly, and a deflated whine leaves you. "gonna hurt for a sec, take deep breath f'me."

you nod hastily, running your nails down the firmness of his chest. "brave girl." he murmurs to himself, easing the tip of his cock by the entrance of your pussy. the sensation of just his tip forces you to jolt, and you bite down on your lips painfully, bracing yourself for the sting.

clark holds himself there, a displeased look taking his expression at the souring of your softer features. his thumb slides up your jaw, to your lips, where he eases them apart. you blink up at him, slightly disoriented. eyes fluttering shut when he kisses you.

the wet slot of his lips meets yours in a gentle nudge, and you finally exhale into him, feeling a complete release from the initial pent-up tension you held up till now. "mm. there we are. it's just me."

he lowers his head for you again, and you lift your head up in a pathetic move to catch his lips again, only for him to drag the gentle curve of his nose past the apple of your cheeks, inhaling you, and then, pulling back enough until he's level with you.

a breathy gasp stumbles from your throat as he gently licks over your bottom lip, where the skin was broken. the little gesture has you part your lips instinctively for him. he takes the chance to drink in your whines, the hot, wet press of his tongue gliding over yours into a much more intense, deeper kiss.

it was distraction enough for him to bottom out in you, the sudden fullness in your core eliciting a lewd moan out of your throat, and into his.

clark moves an inch, eyes fluttering shut at the warm, velvety tightness your pussy offered. your thighs have begun to quiver with effort of just having him in you. then he stills, letting you accommodate to his stretch.

but then…you fucking pulse.

"sh-shit, sweetheart that's —…ugh…" the rhythmic, tightening around his length forces clark to slump next to your face. his palms fisted in an effort to hold himself back from fucking you into the couch, but he settles for decisive, easy rolls of his hips.

you suck in a breath at the heavy press of his torso, your palms curling around his forearms.

"—…so…fuckin'…tight." he grunts directly into your ears, hips rutting into you in a much more desperate pace.

a loud, scratchy startled moan tumbles right out when his knee bends beneath you. the sudden move hiking your thighs higher to accommodate him. clark winces at the echo, his heavy, wider palms covering your mouth hastily.

"gotta keep it down, mm? you don't wanna wake er' up now do you?"

your whimpers are muffled against his palm, and you quickly shake your head with an iron tight grip around his wrists. the reminder to be quiet only makes you that much more sensitive.

clark's hold on your hips borders on bruising, his other forearm bracing the side of your head as he snaps his hips in a much quicker pace. "like that?"

your nails dig into him, and you nod. eyes rolling back when he lifts up, thrusting down harder into your fluttering pussy. "a-ah…shit. not gonna…last if you keep doin' that baby."

he presses his forehead against your collarbone. a palm coming up to squeeze over your clothed tits. the sound of his pelvis, snapping into you, paired with the sickening squelch of your cunt around his cock was driving you entirely up the wall. you were desperate to cum around him. a fantasy you never thought was possible, with all those times you'd spent whining his name from your vibrator.

clark's hold over your mouth slides down to the column of your throat, and he holds your face to his, panting into your mouth.

"can feel you, quiverin'. gonna cum? hm?"

your thighs drag up to hook around his hips, leaving you at complete mercy to his thrusts. "m'so…so..close.." you manage in a soft squeak. clark groans into your pulse, keeping his pace, relentless and insistent.

"r-right there with you. give it to me." his brows furrow tersely, focused on the tightening of his balls as the overwhelming pleasure threatens to push him over the edge.

his palm, drags down your chest, past your navel and over the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing you with the calloused pad of his thumb. you gasp louder. the punishing pace of his thrusts coupled with the stimulation at your clit has you clawing at his hand. unsure if you wanted to push away or pull him in for more.

the tension coiling in your belly finally snaps, pulling you undone. white, hot flashes take your body in a seize, the residual pulses of your orgasm forces clark to pull out in a grunt — thick spurts of his cum painting your abdomen as he coaxes out the last few drops of his release, shoulders visibly shaking in the wake of your combined climax.

his weight slumps onto you, ragged breaths vibrating against the shell of your ears. "mmh—…too…heavy." you whine in a mild protest to the heaviness against your chest, heart racing in exhaustion. he seems to notice it as he rolls off, a little amused.