It was in your eyes.
I should have known. Should have known it would lead to this. It always does. Pinned against a wall by your body, my legs wrapped around your waist, begging you like I always do.
"Fuck. . . me."
I grind out the words between moans. My vision goes blank with your answering bite at my neck. You love to make me bleed. And I'm not going to complain. Not when your hands are grasping at my hips, sliding their way up my shirt and kneading my breasts. I lose all sense when you kiss me. Hot and demanding and never gentle. You hate me too much to go slow, to worry about the bruises that will be left behind. That's how I want it. Don't let me believe we're lovers. That there's emotion behind this near primal attraction. Remind me of what we are, enemies and a quick screw meshed Remind me with the way your nails leave trails of red on my skin, with your brutal kisses, with the way I'm always left gasping for breath as you use my body for your pleasure.
Not that I won't use you as well. I need this as much as you do. Need to feel weak, need to have control ripped away from me; I need what you can do to me. Make me regret meeting you and make me want you so much that I can't think straight when we're in the same room. I look in those dark eyes saturated with hate and lust and I want to submit to you. To be beneath you, at the mercy you don't have, a brutal passion that drags us both to climax before we've even undressed.
I release your blue black hair and my hands can't decide whether to grasp your shoulders to leave my own marks on your skin or to find my way beneath your shirt and take your breasts in my hands, to make you moan desperately when I touch you like this. I grind our hips together, your thigh rubbing against my center that feels like it's burning and pulsing desperately all at once. With every shift, a jagged spark of pleasure rushes through my body. I arch my back, allowing you to remove my shirt, pull it over my head, then force my bra to follow the already forsaken shoes and jackets to the floor. Your mouth abandons mine to trail down the center of my chest, licking my stomach and then moving back to my neck to leave your mark once again. I groan as you intersperse kisses with bites, giving just enough pain to enhance the pleasure. One hand goes back to my breast while the other slides past my thigh, down to my knee and back up to my hip, grabbing my ass to pull our hips together again. We move together for a few moments before that hand pushes between us to work on my zipper, pulling it down, dipping inside before moving back to my hip.
"Let go," You command me. I grudgingly unwrap my legs to stand on my own while you try to use your hands to push my jeans down. I grab your wrists with one hand while I fall to my knees and grip your waist with the other. I make quick work of your own jeans, moving my mouth to your thighs for teasing of my own. I hear your gasp as I kiss and lick at your thighs in time with my fingers rubbing against your underwear. Though I may submit to you, I won't let you have all the fun. I lean back as my fingers hook onto the sides of your underwear so that I can get a better view of you removing your own shirt and bra, discarding them quickly so that your hands can bury themselves in my thick brown hair and push my head back where it was.
I'm not going to give you everything. Not yet. My finger goes back to teasing your clit, only without a cotton barrier blurring the sensations. My lips wander from your stomach to the inside of your thighs, enhancing the pleasure, not distracting from it. Only after I slip two fingers inside of you do I move my lips to your clit, sucking on it harshly, just like you would do to me. I close my eyes and concentrate on breaking your self-control. I want to hear you scream.
Before I can succeed, you push me back and force me to the floor. My back rubs uncomfortably against the carpet, but I don't get a chance to sit back up before you've straddled my waist and gone back to kissing me harshly. Your hands pin mine above my head as you grind your hips against mine.
"Don't tell me what to do." With that, you let go of my hands and are finally able to remove my jeans, taking my underwear with them. You immediately thrust two fingers into me, swallowing my cry of pain with your mouth. You move your fingers to my clit, rubbing it a few times before fingering me again. Your tongue thrusts into my mouth in time with the fingers inside me, causing me to writhe beneath your body, torn between getting away and moving closer. My hips decide for me, rising to meet your hand as you add another finger. I hate myself for spreading my legs for you, and I hate you for making me want this. I hate you even as my own hands take their places at the back of your neck, pulling you closer, causing our breasts to rub against one another, with the other moves down your body to dig into your hip. I wonder if you hate yourself too as your legs spread for my hand to push itself back into your body, following the rhythm you've set for us. I'm satisfied when you gasp into my mouth once I've found that spot with my thumb, stroking it even as my fingers continue to move inside of you. You speed up your own hand, thrusting into me harder, determined to make me climax first.
I hate that I do cum first, just as I always do. The fact that you follow soon after does nothing to appease that failing. I'm still caught up in that hate as you roll off of me, pulling on your clothes even as you walk towards the door. You're gone before I've even caught my breath. I'm glad for that.
I don't want to see your eyes.