Info - brat reader, touchy reader, manhandling, hard and then soft Dom Timothée, overstimulation, crying during sex, slapping, multicum, degrading language, sub reader
The Golden Globes were crowded. No one would notice if I slipped my hand onto his lap. After all, he'd wound me up by looking so sexy.
"Keep your hands to yourself," he growled.
"Why Timmy?" I purred.
My hand rubbed at his crotch. I felt his harden. His eyes were emerald shards as he glared at me.
"Don't touch what isn't yours brat," he snarled and yanked my hand off his length.
"But it is mine," I giggled. This time my hand slipped into his trousers. I watched him hold back a shudder. I loved that even at his most dominant he couldn't deny or completely repress what I did to him.
"Watch yourself," he said in a deep voice that travelled straight to my core. I squirmed in my seat. I felt needy and desperate. I wanted to claim him and then have him ravage me.
I imagined him going up to accept and award with a hard on. So many people would be wondering what I'd done or what we'd done.
I then imagined him taking me right there on the table. He could throw everything off it and lay me down. He could make everyone see how I keened and whimpered for him, and how wet I got as he pounded away inside me.
"I want it," I complained and grabbed his bulge again. He tried to make a go for my hands but I was too fast. My hand was in his pants and squeezing his rock hard cock. I couldn't feel his precum as thought of how he'd punish me later.
"Listen you whore," he hissed in a deadly whisper. He snatched both my hands. His larger ones held my wrists tightly.
"Just you wait and see what happens to little girls who don't know how to behave," he crooned with a wicked smile.
Later he was using me. He plowed into me again and again. My clit was swollen and my walls ached as much as they pulsed with pleasure.
"No more," I cried. He had my wrists caged above me. There were bruises on them from how hard he'd held them for the rest of the awards show and how tightly he held them now.
"S'too much!" I whined as my overstimulated body was ravaged. I was sweating and squirming and arching. My body was a mess of sweat and semen and squirt. The noises our bodies made every time he plunged inside me were pornographic.
"You said you wanted my cock, you should be happy and stop complaining," he mocked me.
There were tears in my eyes as my body burned. I didn't dare utter my safe word. I was just as worried about it stopping as I was about it continuing to go. I was shaking, every part of my body was weak and pleasured.
My nipples stung from where he'd slapped them. My cunt was overflowing with his multiple loads. My legs ached from being pried apart and spread aggressively.
"I do," I sobbed.
"Yeah you do, but who does the dick belong to?" He smirked.
"To m-"
He slapped me across the face. I yelped and he slammed deeper. I whimpered little noises over and over.
"To you, you own me, not the other way around," I finally admitted.
He immediately became softer. His thrusts were more of a roll than a snap. He let my hands go so they fell limply by my side. I was crying in graditude.
"That's my girl, good baby," he murmured into my hair.
"Wan be good," I mumbled.
"You are," he promised and kissed my forehead.
We came together in the next few moments. We both let out noises of bliss and gratification. I felt warm and spent like a dying star.
"You were so mean," I said in a subby voice as I curled into his side when it was all done.
"Don't be a brat," he said simply and smugly as he kissed my temple and pulled the blankets over us.
