Hi? lol this is a part of my tennis player!isack series
The bass rattles up through the soles of your heels as you sway your hips to the song. Standing onto the table, Tequila clings to the soles of your footwear for someone spilled it earlier. Wine glass clutched in one hand as your free fingers reach for Isack’s. He stays planted right below you, one palm wrapped tight around yours to keep you steady while the other lifts his phone to film every sway of your hips. Your mini dress rides higher with each step, the hem flashing the tops of your thighs as you sing along, hair swinging loose around your shoulders. The cranberry gloss on your lips catches the lights every time you open your mouth.
Isack’s thumb strokes over your knuckles, grounding you even as the crowd cheers. He’s grinning up at you like he can’t believe his luck, eyes flicking between your face and the way your body moves. Every so often he gives your hand a gentle tug, making sure you don’t tip too far in those heels.
You’re mid-verse when you spot the flash. Someone in the crowd has their phone angled straight at the table—at you. The lens stays locked on your legs, your dress, the way you’re moving. Your stomach flips. You’re not used to strangers filming you like this. Isack was the star in the relationship, the tennis player. You on the other hand, were someone private. You squeeze Isack’s hand twice, hard, and he immediately lowers his own phone, reading the signal without question.
He helps you down in one smooth motion, arm sliding around your waist the second your heels hit the floor. The stranger keeps on recording you for a while more before keeping their phone away. You nuzzle your face in Isack's neck as your arms wrap around his torso. "Caught someone filming you?" He asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades to pull you closer. You merely nod, your lipgloss leaving faint imprints on his collar.
Isack knew you weren't the most confident when it came to being infront of cameras. Specially infront of stranger's cameras. However, he couldn’t help it. Even if he put out millions of statements asking people not to film you, there would still be some bastard ignoring his words. He loved his career and the recognition and fame it bought him. He really did, but sometimes he wished he could change parts of it or atleast protect you from it.
His hands rub your back in a soothing motion. "Do you wanna go home?" He asks. "Will you fuck my brains out?" Isack couldn’t help but chuckle at your counter question. "If I slid my fingers under that dress right now, how soaked would you be for me?" He says, his grin wicked. His words earn him a slap on his shoulder. Isack remembers you being so coy, so sweet and so elegant so much so you always made a face at him whenever he used to talk dirty to you. Oh, how he's corrupted his elegant girl. Even as you kick your heels by the couch, back at home, Isack could sense the incident bothered you.
"Chèrie, don’t mind them. You look so, so, so, fucking hot. I bet those bastards will jerk off to that as it's some sort of sex tape," he says, lips bruised after kissing you silly. You laugh, cheeks warm. "Well, that’s all they’re gonna get." Isack’s grin turns wicked as he presses his chest against yours. "And what will your boyfriend get," he asks lips brushing your ear. "Whatever you want," you answer, and the words hang between you like an invitation
"Whatever I want?"
"Whatever you want," you confirm.
His lips curled up in a wicked grin as he pulls out his phone. "Then, let me take whatever I want." Your trust in him never failed to make his heartbeat stutter. Isack set up the camera against the vase — which you insisted you needed in the living room ( "It's to add more whimsy bébé!" ) — on the coffe table. "Now, let me get back to where I was," he says. His lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss as he holds your hands above your head. Isack presses his dick against your core roughly, causing you to moan against his lips. He slips his tongue in, exploring parts of your mouth as if he's never done this before.
By the time he pulls apart, your gloss is all over your and his lips, your dress is bunched up, the straps falling off of your shoulders, hair abit disheveled. Most of all, you carried that drunken, hazy look in your eyes. Isack pushes your dress down your boobs as his hands come behind to twist open your bra.
He leans down to leave kisses from your collarbone down to your boobs. He could feel you squirming under him, horny and needy for more. He hastily removes his pants and free his dick, smearing the precum all over his tip before putting it between your boobs. Isack throws his head back in pleasure as he feels your warm boobs suffocating his length.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum all over you," He groans, yet his pace doesn’t flatter. You moan and squeeze your boobs, playing with your nipples as you feel yourself getting wet and wetter. Isack lets out a chocked moan as he sees the sight of his dick between your boobs. His orgasm rips through him sending shots of white cum all over chest and neck. He watches you collect his cum on your fingers and shove it on your mouth, getting him hard all over again.
When you remove your fingers from your mouth, Isack collects the remanants of him fingers and shove it in your mouth. "Suck my fingers like they’re my dick—show me how bad you want it," he says, pushing his fingers deeper. Isack gets rid of your dress and panties. "Spread those legs wider—let me see how puffy and wet you are," he says pushing your legs apart before pushing his dick in, causing both of you to moan simultaneously.
"You’re such a filthy slut letting me film you while I ruin this pussy," His forehead comes to rest against yours as he slowly removes his dick, leaving the tip in, before slamming back to your core. "Clench that pussy around me, milk every drop," he says, his pace becoming brutal. "Ah, fuck–fuc—Isa," your back arched off the bed as you feel the coil getting tighter in your stomach. His hands find your clit between you two, strumming the bundle of nerves until he pull out two orgasms out of you.
Isack lets his body fall on top of you. "Isa, mon amour, you're laying on your cum," you mummble, pushing his hair back as you press a chaste kiss to his cheeks. "Fuck that," he mutters, wrapping his arms around you. "Ahh, get off, i feel all sticky and disgusting. I need a shower," you try to push him off but he just wraps his arms around you tighter.