Play fighting that turns into something more, me pushing you back against the bed until I end up on top of you, looking down with a smirk. My legs fall open on either side of your stomach, and when your hand finds my waist, trying to push me off, it only makes me grind down against you, slower this time, more deliberate. I can feel the heat building, the dampness soaking through my panties and pressing against you.
The mood shifts, thick and heavy. You’re looking up at me when a sound slips from my mouth, filthy, unfamiliar, something dirty different than anything I’ve let you hear before. It surprises even me, but it only makes it worse, makes everything ache more. Your hands slide down to my ass, gripping hard, holding me there as you pull me tighter against you.
“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice already strained.
I don’t trust myself to speak. I just nod, my face softening into something needier, more desperate, pressing down into you again, dragging another broken sound from my chest. It’s different now, heavier, hungrier.
The need hits all at once. I want more. I need more. I need to fall apart on top of you.
You drag me across your body just to hear me again, chasing those sounds, pulling them out of me over and over. Every movement makes me react, makes me lose a little more control, until I’m shaking above you.
At some point you stop moving me as I roll my hips instinctively too lost in it I use you like an object to get off on.
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