This is bad idea. Fucking in the locker room while rest of the team waits for me for debriefing will get us in to trouble. But I don’t fucking care. Let them find out. I do not care anymore. I have to have her, body and mind. Right now, right here. No mirror, just Marie and me. Her eyes on mine when I fuck her, holding me here with her, erasing the twisted images burned in to my brain.
“Take me in… Let me…” I have no right to do this. No right to ask her this. Everything we have done earlier has been about her and her need. This is all for me.
She was waiting for us when the Blackbird landed. Scott & Co. went straight to briefing room. I told them I needed to get cleaned up first. Don’t know if they bought my story, especially after I grabbed Marie and pulled her in here with me, but I do not fucking care anymore. I killed her, and now I need to see she really is still alive and breathing.
I can’t wait. I tear off her pants and thrust in to her warmth. Her nails dug in to my shoulders and she gasps. From pain or pleasure? I don’t know. I don’t care. I have to have her. Have to taste her. Her heartbeat kicks up few notches when I lick her throat. It’s not enough. I tear open her blouse. No bra. Just those soft and heavy breasts, nipples already taut, waiting for my touch. I suck one of them between my lips, and her core grips me harder. Hot and slick cavern convulsing around my shaft, pulling me deeper.
I must be hurting her, but I don’t care. I want her to scream my name, want her to let every fucking soul on this earth to know exactly whom she’s fucking. I grasp her shoulders and nearly crush her between my body and the wall to get a better leverage before plunging in deeper. She will have bruises. She will have my mark on her. She will be alive. She will be mine.
She’s arching her back, giving my mouth better access to her nipples and baring her throat. Her legs lock around my waist. Blood is pounding in my ears, but I can hear her soft whispers over that sound. She’s submitting to me. Over and over again. I don’t want her to whisper. I want her to scream.
I’m going to skewer her uterus soon, but I have to get deeper. I want to disappear, dissolve to wet heat surrounding me and never leave again. I can see from her eyes she doesn’t understand what I’m asking. She doesn’t understand how much it eats me alive to have her every night, and loose her every morning. I hate to pretend this is nothing but a casual fuck, something to make her feel more comfortable in her skin. I want her to wake up and realize we can’t go on any longer. I can’t go on pretending to be some sort of father figure during days when I’m supposed to be her stud during nights. I hate every role she has cast upon me. I’m no father. I’m no brother. I’m not one of her toys. I’m not her friend. I refuse to be any of those. And it’s time she accepts me completely or lets me go.
I push her thighs wider, force her to open up and grind against her clit. Let go of her shoulders and grab her ass instead. Round and firm buttocks, made for kneading. Puckered opening between them just waiting for caresses. She’s already slick from our juices, and there’s just the slightest hint of resistance when I probe that tight passage with one finger. I haven’t touched her there before. At first she doesn’t even seem to notice, but when I add a second finger tone and sound of her whispers changes. She’s getting louder. Squirming against me and begging me to continue.
“Whom are you fucking with?”
“Logan…” Not loud enough.
“Who keeps you satisfied?”
“Logan…” Close, but not loud enough. I roll my hips, nearly crushing her clit. I’m gonna come soon, but I have to make her scream before that.
“To who do you belong?” Fingers and cock as deep in her as they go, and she’s screaming my name, soft walls of her core milking my seed out of me.
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