A: N yes I wrote this at 3 am In the Morning so This is short...
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his chest against the back of your thighs isn't soft. he knows your legs must be hurting as fuck with every damn move of his hips into you, his dick so deep you can't even fucking answer what he needs to know. his touch is harsh, like the days you've first met, and leaves not only physical marks of his fingers on your skin, but also the bittersweet remind of his egoistic reason he's fucking you so hard. you can't even think properly—his cock fills you up like you've born for being his slut; your entire body burns with the way he doesn't care about looking like a good guy for you. fuck, you can't even keep your eyes open, unlike your jaw, dropped, aching because of his thick fingers into your mouth. it's fucking three in the morning. you can't wake your neighbors up, so he muffles your sound by pressing his digits on your tongue, watching your squirm and gag when the tips reach your throat. he hopes you can feel how pissed off he is, how disappointed he is. "i fucking dismissed all those girls who'd pay to suck me off," he says. he pulls his fingers out of your mouth without caring about the way you bite him then grab your jaw, forcing you to keep still. a smirk grows on his lips as he continues to push his length into your cunt with no mercy, fucking you stupid. your mouth is shut, but he can listen to the desperate moans you try to let out. "open your eyes," he tells, but you don't oblige, and he has to say it again. "are you this dumb? couldn't see i am madly in love with you, now can't obey my orders 'cause my cock is too much?" this time you widen your eyes. oh, he used the magic word. love. he's so in love with you that he wrote a polite message and sent to all of his affairs about you and they said you wouldn't want him. he didn't believe, of course. not even when you said "i don't think i can handle going out with a man that doesn't care about me" and blocked him when he was sleeping, dreaming of having stupid children with you. and he still dreams about it, though. it's hard not to, your pussy clenching around him so tight he might just come inside you without a warning. your body is so hot, your surprised expression when he repeats he fucking loves you is tasty. he wished he could take a picture and eternize the moment—it had no sense, an awkward angry-fucking, sweat being mixed, bodies aching in need, never satisfied, turning into a declaration moment. "i was going to declare to you this morning, y'know?" he puts his hand on your ass, strokes, slaps. you close your eyes again and he gives you one more smack, harder, and you stare at him again. fucking gorgeous bitch. how the fuck you didn't find you he was crawling around, wanting to be your puppy or whatever you wanted him to be? your eyes are addictive; that face you make when he rubs your clit and makes sure his dick is hitting your sensitive spots is like the heaven in earth. "look at me, babe, look and feel how i hate you," he murmurs, can't help a eager moan as you bring him closer, feet around his neck pulling him until his mouth is in front of yours. "you don't hate me," you affirm, nodding to yourself. he denies it. "i hate you," he replies, kisses your hard, deep, franticly.
he's running out of time, it's hard to refrain himself from fucking his cum inside your hole, but he's still has things to say to you. can't deny how weak he is—if you want him to be a hundred per cent honest, to say what's really inside his mind, you must put your legs around his body and let him rail you like there's not damn tomorrow, the last day of his life. this way, the intimacy is so big that he can't lie not even for a second. he's naked, but not only his flesh: his soul is bare, you can read every line of his thoughts as he pounds his cock so deep into you. that's why you shouldn't close your eyes. unscramble what is the meaning between his hate by looking at him just like you did. "you don't fucking hate me, scumbag, you love me" you manage to whisper, and he sees your mind is just empty. love has you intoxicated; your cunt taking him so well makes you nothing but a doll for him to use. yet you can tell him exactly what he wants to hear. "you love me, that's why you acted like a psycho and sneaked into my house," you continue and his moves get so erratic, so random that you must understand what's happening. he's close, so close. "say you love me too," he wants to listen, it's a command. "say it, then we can talk like adults," he seems to beg, sounding weird to himself. doesn't regret it, though, because you finally say it. "love you, love you, love you..." and keeps murmuring to yourself as you feel his cum inside you, clenching his cock even more. your voice saying this is his stamina to remain awake, pleasured and astonished by how powerful an orgasm can be when love's involved. he holds you when he finishes, replace his dick by his fingers and smirks, watching your overstimulated face. he's still mad at you. he wanted to do things right this time, like a gentleman, but it went so wrong. "you owe me apologizes, dumb girl" he whispers, sees you showing him a smile and your middle finger. his digits mix his seed and your juices, your voice keeps telling him you love him, and it's everything he's ever needed.
