chublicious

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She said she'll take ten minutes.

It's been 45.

I sink back in the car seat, leg extending forward as much as I can.

I can't believe that little menace fooled me to sit in the parking lot while she gets her nails done.

Ridiculous.

I should have known. Seen that coming.

My phone has given up on me, the network is barely catching a single bar.

So I find myself scrolling through my gallery.

Very manly. I know.

It's all her.

One on the bed, hair splayed across the pillow, shirt lifted enough for her soft tummy to spill.

Another one, she isn't looking at the camera, brows furrowed as she tries to put a thread through the needle.

I had bet she wouldn't be able to.

I had also, won.

God, she gave me the silent treatment for two hours, I nearly lost my mind.

I don't know when my lips tugged in a smile.

Sitting alone in a stuffy car, smiling like a fool at my phone because my girlfriend is pretty.

Lords help me.

But I don't really wanna be helped.

Another fifteen minutes pass with me staring at pictures of my woman.

Like I'm a war widower.

Like she isn't 20 steps away getting her nails done.

"pathetic," I murmur to no one in the car, but swipe to the next picture anyways.

Eventually my phone decides to die on me.

Because today I'm being abandoned by everything.

First my girl, who tricked me.

Then myself for being so pathetic in a car park.

And now my phone.

Great.

I rest my head back against the leather seat, eyes dropping closed for a second.

Because her pictures do two things to me.

One, they remind me what a lucky bastard I am.

Two, they make it difficult to sit in tight spaces because now, my jeans are two sizes too tight.

Wonderful.

Eventually my gaze traces the passenger seat, where she'll come and sit like she owns the car, which, true — she owns me.

Fuck, when did I get so whipped?

Then my eyes lock onto her clutcher.

Hung loose on the seatbelt, the blue large claw clip she adores.

I realise it's been there for days.

Maybe more than that, in that exact position.

My eyes narrow.

If it's her favourite, why is it hung on the seatbelt instead of holding her pretty curls up?

It takes me a minute. Two.

"Bloody hell," I breathe

I let out an amused huff as my mind finally decides to catch on.

"You're marking territory, aren't you?" My voice echoes in the empty car.

You couldn't pay me to stop grinning right now.

I'm gonna be staring at that clutcher a whole lot from now on. No doubts about it.

She's a possessive gremlin.

And before I know it, I'm stealing a pic. Evidence purposes, of course.

--|--

--|--

That sweet maroon lingerie you were too shy to show him, now sits on your curves, enhancing every swell of your plush body.

The room is dimly lit, the scent of musk floating around disturbed only by your nervous breathing. He hasn't even touched you where it aches, he's just admiring.

He switches the lights on, and you immediately protest, face scrunching up.

"Hell no, sweetheart, I've got to see my ruin" his voice is impossibly deep, pupils blown dark.

His lips leave wet trails all over your sensitive skin, your cheeks burn crimson, competing with the lingerie — his teeth sink into your belly, that sweet, soft flesh.

His length throbs at the supple taste, large calloused hand kneads the sides of your waist.

You're going to be the death of him.

That's the only thought circling his mind, with your breath hitting his neck in small puffs.

One hand keeps your legs parted, thumb soaked between your folds through the panties — coated in the honey wet slick, making his cock twitch in anticipation.

His bulge is aching against his jeans, but he refuses to let himself free until he has devoured every last piece of you with his eyes.

"Fuck, doll," his thumb swipes your covered slick, your juices seep through the lace.

"You're so goddamn wet" his words echo, making your insides feel mushy. A flutter in your cunt, colour climbing your neck.

His lips twitch in a smirk at the crimson shade. God, you are gorgeous.

His tongue meets yours in a kiss so deep, you almost drown in it. His hand behind your neck, thumb tilting your chin up to push his tongue deeper.

The room fills with the lewd but loving sounds, because every brush of his skin with yours is pilgrimage for him.

Your heart beats have synced, racing, you can hear your own raging in your ears.

His other hand rubs along your fupa to above your navel, tracing the raised stretch marks that make the heat pool further in his own pants.

"you're motherfuckin' art," his teeth nip at the soft skin of your shoulders, gathering it, sucking enough to make you moan again. "Y'know that?" He licks the fresh mark.

His hips roll against yours, almost involuntarily, and he groans against your skin.

The sound rumbles through his chest directly to yours.

Your legs lock around his hips at the subtle movement, pulling him in.

"mm—" his breath falters once. His lips trail along your jaw like he just can't get enough of your scent.

God, he's gonna burst in his jeans like a teenager at this rate.

"Baby—" his hand presses against your thigh to stop the movement, thumb brushing your clit through the soaked panties, which makes your hips buck against his.

"If you keep—" you tighten your legs, a silent protest against his plea to slow down.

"...Greedy woman," he's sucking on your stiff peaks, tasting you through the devilish lace.

Your breath falters, fingers slipping into his hair, tugging.

One arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off the sheets, just enough that you're flush against him.

"I can only hold back so much, darlin'" his nose brushes yours, fingers digging enough to leave faint marks.

But between your helpless puffy breaths and the forced tug at his hair, he knows you're not in the mood to slow down. Not today.

"I'm too... far gone, baby" he breathes "you're gonna make me bust in my pants" his voice is deeper, shallow breaths as his lips latch to your nipples again "all your fault" he mumbled against you.

Desperate to last, he focuses on your breathing, on the warmth of your skin, maths equations, anything.

It gets progressively harder, both the lasting and his cock, because you have decided you're gonna make your man finish in his crisp denims today.

The bulge rubs against your heat, the rustling, desperate sounds echo in the room.

He's thrusting his clothed bulge inside for further friction and that makes you lift your hips higher.

Your fingers dig into his back as your own hips push against his bulge.

"You've got me at your feet" he breathes, hard and shallow. "And then you act innocent."

"Cruel" he murmurs into your neck before sucking a mark and nipping at your double chin.

Your head tilts back, revealing more of your creamy skin, back arching against him, hips grinding harder.

"love, I—" his voice is almost panicked

But by then you've tugged him closer, your tongue wrapped around his.

His eyes close, hand tightening around your waist almost instantly.

The other tangled into your dark wavy hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head further back.

And before you know it, he's pressing in deeper, aching to feel you wrapped around him, hips faltering.

His kiss goes sloppy as his hips thrust faster against yours, landing pecks with every movement.

His fingers squeeze your love handles, pulling you impossibly closer, until his hips buck uncontrollably.

His forehead drops against yours, thick hot ropes of pleasure coat his own pants.

"Fuck—f-uck"

His ears feel warm.

The denim is coated in both your slick, he collapses against your chest, panting slightly, pressing mindless kisses under your bra. Cock throbbing in the warmth of his own release.

Your legs keep him locked there as he empties his entire load in his pants like a virgin.

"You've fucking ruined me," he manages before latching onto your lips again "I'm a grown ass man" he murmurs

"Look at what you do to me," he shakes his head, thumb brushing your cheek like you're something precious.

Because you are.

And he's already rolling his hips again.

Because next up, is payback for you have just done, menace.

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