A Reason for Being

20. Los Infieles

Sliding her laced panties to the side, she straddles him, guiding his penis with her fingertips until he was at the proper entrance.

"Kiss me again," he whispers to her as she takes her time, inching lower, as Atsumu's body begins to stretch her insides. "I'd rather not." She replies, nipping his jugular as her hips start to move. The sucking motions are harsh, leaving a dark purple bruise behind his ear. Love marks are always a no for Y/N. But Atsumu, the Playboy millionaire, can handle a few visible hickeys.

Her hips move slowly, panting softly, as she fills herself with his erection hitting deep within her walls. With her hands roaming his hair, his lips find her neck, harshly biting her, licking her skin as she grinds on him. "Bounce that ass on my dick," he demands, wanting so badly to take control over Y/N's slow movements, but his hands were still tied up.

"Don't tell me what to do." She tugs his hair as her rolling motion turns into a smacking down motion, fastening the pace.

Both of their moans echo the darkly lit room. Y/N's head falls backward, staring up into the ceiling, bouncing on him. "Just like that, baby."

The words ring in her ear. It's not uncommon for Atsumu to call her pet names. Usually, it was 'darling.'

'Baby' was a first. Any other time she probably wouldn't have minded it, let alone noticed what he was saying. But it echoed in her ears, words tied to a specific moment she was trying to forget, with the person she ran away from. And as she closes her eyes, all she sees are those eyes painted so vividly in her subconscious. And the voice, the sultry voice that she eagerly obeyed just to listen to his vibrations on her skin.

But as Atsumu says the words, speaking so dirty to her, it felt wrong. She did not get the tingling sensation in her body as he whispered to her. All she felt was anger.

"Hey, Tsumu?" She says, reaching for the piece of fabric on his desk she used to clean her face with. "Yeah, what is it?" He manages to respond in-between grunts.

"Stop talking and just fuck me." She doesn't give him a chance to respond before stuffing the silky square in this mouth.

"Fuck" he tries to say, but his mouth is gagged, stopping him from speaking. "So much hotter when you don't speak." She moans as her bouncing motions start to go faster, hitting her deeply with every thrust. Adrenaline courses through her, as well as her pent-up anger, her fingernails begin scraping the skin on his chest. Her hand finds his neck, her teeth latch onto his shoulder.

His wrists, trying so desperately to remove from the tied-up grip, begin to darken in a purple shade from how hard he was pulling.

Y/N bounces as hard as fast as she can. Her chest rises, out of breath and sweating. She can feel herself losing the tempo. Her unconditioned body would not be able to continue the intensity. It was the only reason she reached down to untie him.

As soon as he felt the grip loosen on his skin, his hands find her hair. He pulls her hair with the same intensity she was doing earlier. Her moans, mixed with the grunt from pain, continue as he takes control, thrusting his hips upwards on her.

The palm of his hands palms her bareback until it reaches the fabric of her dress. Not even caring to find the zipper, he rips the dress off her body, throwing it on the ground, along with the handkerchief that was in his mouth. His lips find her neck, sinking his teeth in her skin. He begins to suck on her sensitive skin as he continues to thrust her. "You're going to leave a mark!" She grunts in anger and in pleasure.

"I don't give a shit." He responds, biting her, sucking her harder. "Shouldn't have tied me up."

"Fuck," she moans as he grips her hips, smacking her body powerfully towards him. "You asshole," she grunts at the pain inflicted on her neck.