Smarty

Part 2 : He says, 'it's gonna be alright.'

A/N - Continuation of the previous fic, but it's Vance's turn to get down low and gritty, if y catch my drift ;)

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you clawed at his hand by the time the 2nd climax hit you, toes curling, chest heaving. you clawed at him like a wild-cat, practically crying. Vance leaned forwards, pressing you into the seat, back arched like a cat, head nearly at height with the motor-bike's handlebars. you shook and squirmed as the bike-seat continued to vibrate. Vance pressed the hard part of his elbow into your thigh, arm wrapped tight around your rib-cage, and kept you pinned. His hand was between your thighs, three fingers deep, slick with spit and arousal. you ground your hips down instinctively, even when it hurt to come undone.

you could barely hear Vance over the roar of the bike.

"i can feel ya clenching around my fingers like a fuckin' vice." His lips were at your ear, nipping the nape of your neck. "you're not comin' until i stop this bike, alright?"

He really expected you to not to cum again - raw and overstimulated - when he kept touching you like this?

you took a shuddering intake of breath. "I-I can't."

"Don't be a pussy." He spat, brushing his thumb across your clit. "if you come, I won't touch you for a month."

"Liar." you snarled, but you didn't wanna chance it anyway.

Vance ground his hips against you from behind, stiff and leaking in his jeans. He thrust his hand upwards, his rings bumping against your slick cunt, knuckle-deep. he always made you feel so full. you never truly felt fulfilled after sex with him. Everything was better when he fucked you with his fingers. Everything bad went away when he bend the knee and licked at your pussy, laved at you like it was hedonistic worship.

"I mean it." Vance said, eyes focused on the road. "Come, and i won't touch you again, not 'till you learn to listen."

you swallowed thickly.

your head snapped backward as he slid his fingers out of your dripping cunt and grasped the handlebar, seeing that you both were steering precariously near the edge of the road. Vance liked shit-talking, that was true. he didn't really wanna crash and burn, especially not with you. he just liked to scare you. He liked to get off on it too.

The fear that you wouldn't fuck him, or fuck with him for a month, scared you more than his dangerous driving did. you were reliant on him. you loved him, sometimes. it stung to admit but you needed him, like an unfixed compass, he was north. He was yours, always yours, and you were his. you belonged to him; mind, body and soul, he owned you. you liked that about him; liked belonging to him. Could you really be blamed for loving the things he did to you?

"Keep driving." you hissed, heaving another intake of air. "Just . . . keep fuckin' driving."

Vance smiled. you shifted your hips against the vibrating seat. Vance did the same; rubbing his length against the curve of your ass to soothe the almost-sore stiffness of his dick. The tense knot began to unravel within you, but you ground your teeth together and tried to focus on anything other than the near-constant vibration of the bike-seat.

"Fuck." you muttered, through clenched teeth.

you focused on everything aside from vance and the delicious pleasure he brought just to pain you.

The birds on the summer breeze. How the hair was whipped back from your face. How pretty the sky looked this late at night. How pretty Vance was. How good his fingers felt nudging against you. How fuckin' good the wind felt, practically froze you to the bone. Focus on the cold, focus on the fast driving, focus on everything except Him. God, it felt insane being with him, being in denial of such depraved delight. it was as if there was a war in your mind; as if you were going crazy from all the carnality.