WARNINGS: Explicit sex, rough sex, mentions of pain bein pleasurable, mentions of bruises, marks, hickeys, etc.
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Something along the lines of a groan came out of his mouth and it hit you too quick and too hard what you were doing, betraying your brain, satisfying your heart, and feeding your skin, all at the same time. You grabbed onto his hair, you needed him, so much so that the contact was now desperate; you tugged on it with more strength that you planned, you despised him, so much so that it all became too rough.
You had to pull him away from you, "You're a fucking piece shit, Maybank," you let out with a faint voice crack, "You took me for a goddamn fool, I liked you, asshole, I really liked you,"
He grinned proudly, sore lips, flushed cheeks, "Make your mind, gorgeous, where do you want me buried? Six feet deep down the marsh, or inside you?" he trailed his fingers down to your belly.
"Fuck you," there was so much anger in your throat that you were close to spitting on him.
"Just because you asked so nicely," he responded with sarcasm before leaning in for another kiss. Your arms reached his back, almost crawling at his fair skin, he moaned as he sat you so easily on top of the table, he lifted one of your legs pushing your upper body to be perfectly laid out just for him. He tried to recover his breath now being separated from your mouth only to latch himself onto your neck, he hooked the leg behind him leaving a red print only to quite literally rip apart the shirt that barely reached your hips; he began to move lower moving the fabric out of his way, you read it in his eyes, the pure cockiness coated with bliss when seeing your naked breasts, you then deciphered all the wheels turning in his mind, and yet, you still gasped with surprise when he bit your very sensitive nipples, -Payback- you thought, recalling the nail marks you had left behind.
"Fucking hell!" you yelped in pain nearly being capable of feeling the blood rise up.
He didn't cease, he wasn't willing to until he made sure the entire cut could see from miles away who you belonged to, even if it was for just one night. By the time he stopped, there was sweat spreading all over your forehead, and your eyes were on the edge of tearing up, but you never asked him to stop, you would never ask him to stop.
"M sorry gorgeous, was that too much?" he taunted, licking his thumb to very poorly massage his doings, only leaving your tits wet at swollen.
He went back up, sweetly joining his lips to yours, but you were bitter about the bruises, about his being on top of you, about still being the very object of your arousal, about everything, so by the time he planned to part, you bit his bottom lip, and this time he actually let out a groan, feeling himself on the edge of bleeding.
"You're still pretty pissed aren't you?" he rubbed the hurt area, "Looks like I'm gonna have to fuck you dumb until you forget," and before you could come up with yet another gut-digging insult, your panties were somewhere on the floor along with his towel.
You gulped, bracing yourself for impact, but ended up frowning when it was his turn to grasp you by the hair, you were too horny and too lost to come up with another way to explain it, but you could feel his willingness to suck the soul out of your mouth, you felt used in a way, what purpose were you serving at that moment if not a pathetic, dripping, warm mouth for his use; it was painful, the way everything clashed and wrecked, ruining each other. He make his words come to fruition, burring himself in an instant, and such a move only brought out of you a moan so loud you could picture it bouncing in the water.
It was so excruciating, so delicious, so agonizing, and so fucking exquisite, what else would you expect out of him? With how much you tortured him by denying this very moment, he desired you so much he considered begging, but this was the better outcome of things.
There was no better way to process it, he was slamming you against the wood with such strength your whines were being covered by the creaking. You could tell your body rushed itself for release, binding the burning pain with the boiled pleasure, and remembering the adrenaline that dragged the possibility of being discovered. You tried, you really tried to put up a fight, holding back when he held himself by your hips, when he began to make unholy noises, and even when his chest could barely keep up with his breathing; he squeezed your collarbone to go impossibly deeper, and by time his tip was kissing your cervix, you very audibly came undone; he very messily continued just to last a few seconds later.
You still dared to prove him wrong, gathering all that was left of yourself to try and shape some semblance of a sentence, but you would only be lying to yourself if you say you could.
He noticed, shaking his head whilst chuckling, "There's nothing to be said gorgeous, you got me to fuck the brains out of ya', you won," he then kissed your temple.
