#grrrr

"Just get it over with." And when you say that, he growls. Like a fucking mutt being denied its toy.

His thrusts slowed as his frustrations build. How could you say that to him? He's good. Women always say he's good. Makes them feel full, and sated.

The way your walls hug him, warm and wet, your smooth skin against his own.. it's felt like heaven. But the fact you didn't feel it as deep in your bones as he did completely threw him off. It makes his frustrations turn to desperation. Groans trailing off into whimpers, quiet whines that try to express what he's feeling.

Now he wanted to work even harder to make you feel good.

Yet his body was betraying him in every way. His hips were stuttering, no thrust really the same, some were hard and deep, and then he didn't pull out right, then he pulled deeper than possible, slamming into you, before slipping out which was a complete nightmare because he couldn't find the hole again, poking aimlessly around your slit. Fuck.

His hands, normally steady and tactile, now had about the same dexterity as of a toddler. He was grabbing everywhere, like he was searching for something with no idea how to navigate.

You cursed under your breath, what the fuck. And that just broke him. His whimpers turned worse, louder, more desperate. Guilty dog. He did feel pathetic, having no idea where his mind went. It just seemed to slip out off his ears once he realised you didn't like this.

"Okay, Jesus! Get off, lay down," you snapped. Pulling your body away from him, expecting him to comply. And he did, thanking everything that is holy that he got a command. Something to follow, easy, familiar. Pinching the bridge of your nose you watched as he eagerly complied and laid flat on his back. You would've laughed at the imagine if it weren't so frustrating right now. You climbed over him, straddling his thick thighs. Your hand reaching down to line his cock up with your weeping hole. Lips parting in a silent moan once you sunk down.

His hands shoot to your hips when you start grinding down on him, feeling every bump and ridge of your walls. His orgasm came far too soon, catching him so off guard he couldn't even warn you. A sound, more of a mewl than anything, being ripped from his throat, his body tightening as his load filling you, hot and thick. Threatening to seep out the moment you moved.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me. I'm about to zip tie your balls," you spat down at him, nails digging into his chest.

He flinched, guilt washing over him as the realisation of what had just happened hit. "Ah- fuck! I didn't mean to, I swear. Fuck, I'm sorry, love." God, you're scary when youre frustrated. "Just gimme a minute, I'll be—" you cut him off once again. Though this time not with words but with a lift of your hips, halfway up before you sink down again.

He's hissing through the feeling, "No, no, wait- nghh, please." Far too sensitive for the rhythm youre setting. But you don't seem to care, he's denied you pleasure and now youre chasing it. And clearly, you're not about to compromise that.

The sounds echoing in the room are obsence, the squelch of your arousal and his cum leaking out of you, forming a white ring around his base. Simons whimpers while he desperately tries to put his mind back together, mixing with your breathy moans when you finally manage to get his cock to hit that sweet, gummy spot inside of you.

"Make yourself useful," your hand comes down his wrist, dragging his hand away from your hip and down to your heat. Excepting him to get the hint. And thank God he did, cupping your inner thigh while his thumb gathered some of the slicky substance all around, lubing up your puffy clit so he could draw slow circles around the bundle of nerves. "Good boy."

You shift to squad above him instead, "Speed up," you croon, while doing the same. Bouncing up and down faster, making sure to repeatedly hit that sweet spot inside. His thumbs speeds up, firm and constant. But so do his hips, thrusting up into you, trying to meet your rhythm. You were gonna kill this man. Either through pleasure or anger. "That ain't what I asked for, is it?" "Sorry, sorry, sorry. You're just.. so good. So good, love. Feel so perfect 'round me."

Its absolutely torture for him to stay still, to keep his hips on the matrass when youre making him feel so good. But he's eager to please now. So he takes a deep breath, focusing on your body instead of his own. And it's worth it. The way your eyebrows furrow, the way those pretty lips fall open, the way your breath stutters, and the way you clench around him when you come, all of it is heavenly. "That's good... that's right," you praise breathlessly. The way your cunt is pulsing around him and the relief of making you feel good has him coming undone again. It's almost painful how hard he comes, it has his legs trembling and his eyes screwing shut tighlty.

"Don't get off," he protest weakly once you lift your hips. He doesn't want to lose that feeling. And his hands are urging you to stay down. His frown is almost pitiable when you get off nonetheless. Slumping against the headboard next to him. "Say thank you."

Oh, you're mean, throwing his words back at him. "Thank you. Thank you, dove. Felt so good." You did deserve it more than him.

His eyes wander down, his flaccid cock glistening, cum stuck in his blonde pubes. And then they wander over to you, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath, biting back the urge to suck on your hard nipples, to lick around the soft skin. He cant see much between your legs, your pretty thighs covering most of it from his point of view. And he truly cant help it. He shifts, slowly, the bed creaking lowly under his weight. He grabs your leg, spreading your legs so he can settle between them. Peppering kisses along your inner thighs, while his hands knead the supple flesh, the flexing muscles underneath.

"What's that gonna be, hm?" You hum in suprise, raising your eyebrows at him. A hand coming down to his shoulder, gliding along the tattooed skin until it reached the back of his neck. Wrapping around it, thumb playing with the little hairs along his hairline. "An apology."

"An apology? Huh. Won't find me complaining about that." He groans at the breathy laughter that follows. Everything about you is just so beautiful. His hand guides your leg to lay over his shoulder. His tongue flattening as it reaches your pussy. "I'll make it up to you," He assures, though he's not even sure if you hear him, it's all mumbled into your cunt. Before his tongue slips between your lips, poking at your stretched hole, leaking with both of your orgasms.

You tense up at the sound that follows, cringing at how filthy it is. If that's how he slurps up his own sperm you make a mental note to never eat soup with him. Yeesh. Your hand tightenings on his neck when he tries to push himself closer to you, wanting to get deeper, to taste more of you, be completely surrounded by you.

He is a good kisser though, eagerly devouring your folds. And you almost want to tug him up for a proper kiss. Almost.

Hes making sure to get every every bit from you, every sweat drop, every drop of slick arousal gathered around your crotch. Theres no way he hasn't swallowed a pube or two. But he isn't even noticing. Too lost in the taste. And the feeling of your hand gripping his hair, pulling him closer, encouragement to just keep going.

The hand that isn't firmly holding your legs over his shoulder sneaks with him between your legs, thick fingers pushing past your entrance. Callouses grazing your soft insides. Lips suctioning around your clit briefly. Before his tongue takes over, lapping up and down until your hips are grinding against it, wanting more and more.

Just before he can get desperate for your praise again you speak, "just like that, sweetheart. Now youre doing good." Boy, if he had a tail it'd be wagging like crazy like now. "Don't stop, dont you dare stop. M'close," you moan, words barely coming out right when his fingers finally find the spot, and hes not shy to abuse it. Quickly curling against it again and again until your back arches. His eyes shoot up, no way in hell he's missing your orgasm.

He prefers this one over your first, simply because of the pressure of your thighs clamping down on his head, and his lips being right at the source of what's holy to him. And now he's got a taste for it...