Re: In-person: Cris/Sam (adult)
[She tells him he can't fuck her and he's gonna prove her wrong, huh? He is. 'Cause he always wins these games. He ain't got a lotta resolve, but whatever lil bit he does have is more than Sam. Granted, when she caves, he's usually 'bout one second behind her, but it's still winning. He's gonna do it again.—Pero, she's getting good. She goads, her teeth in the flesha his bottom lip, and Cris bites into the kiss, knocks teeth with her, only managing a strangled, kiss-suffocated and snarled,] Fuck YOU. 'S'just you—just you—[If you're winning, you strike first, you don't just react, and that should be his first sign he ain't doing as hot as he thinks. But, he is on the fucking edge and he's fighting for every inch, fingers a bloody mess.
He fights dirty too. He rocks his cock against her palm and he thinks he's got her close to the net. All he needs is to get her hand outta the way—and he gets there. Her hips jerk and he loves it. She fucks herself on his fingers, lifting the damn skirt outta the way to watch filthy. She won't let him kiss her, so he fucks her harder, brutal smacka his palm to her cunt as she takes his fingers deep. The office, already stinkinga sweat, picks up the heady reeka cunt, and, yeah, he's got her. He shifts to push and squeeze onea her tits ruthless, getting a helluva lot outta the rhythma her fucking herself, pressurea knuckles giving friction and chafe to his cock beneath drenched black.—But before he can do anything, she goes still, glutton, and Cris is halfway to kissing her again when she climbs offa him, leaving him cold and his fingers soaked with her.] ¡Ay! [The complaint is instant, knit brows. The partsa him that are already boiled down to fat are useless as he tries to figure out how this could happen, huh? He'd won.
Sam tucks Joey to her like protection. He glares at her, sitting there, cock straining against sopping nylon and his fingers strung together with ribbonsa cunt-wet. Defiant, even in the facea her smugness, he slips his fingers into the heata his mouth, over lips swollen, and he sucks the tastea her from his knuckles in a slaver, tongue graphic between the bonesa his fingers as she watches, one by fucking one. His other hand rests heavy over his cock, curled but not clutching, and he smacks his lips, swallowing Sam down as he looks at her, wanting her with every fucking fiber in his body, ever nerve attuned to her. He pops his last finger from pulpa lips and wipes spit away from his chin with the backa his arm.
His voice is rougher than it's ever been.] Whatever you want, mami. [Mami. He drags his gaze over her, licking his lips again, before black clashes into blue. He smiles and it's almost fucking sweet.]