Page 151 of Riding the Sugar High

“Just like that. If you want to come, I’ll let you ride my fingers. I’ll feast on your pussy, and then I’ll fuck you until you come apart for me. How does that sound, Barbie?”

“No,” I cry out, though my body is in fervent disagreement. “No, please. Use me for yourself.”

His left hand abandons the back of my neck as his fingers pull out of me. With one quick motion, my arms are pulled behind me, and my hard nipples brush against the dirt.

Once he grabs my wrists, I can’t move at all. The side of my face is pressed against the ground as something soft wraps around them, and he entraps both my arms by making a second loop.

“I knew I’d find a good use for your scrunchies.”

I listen to the whir of his zipper and peep past my shoulder at the pink flamingos wrapped around my wrists, my breaths running quickly out of my parted lips.

“You know why I don’t want you wearing my clothes, Barbie?” he asks.

I blink, then swallow, but neither action seems to help my brain snap out of its trance. “B-because you’re astonishingly possessive of your things?”

“I’m possessive of one thing only, and that’s my backpack,” he snaps. The fabric of his jeans presses firmly against my calves. “The reason I don’t want you wearing my clothes, especially my favorite jacket, is entirely different.” The crown of his cock rubs against me, dipping in before disappearing again.

“What is it?” I ask, out of breath. My heart is thumping, the anticipation making me pant as my every nerve tenses. “Why don’t you want me to wear your clothes?”

His cock parts my lips, only the head moving past the resistance and making me shiver with pleasure.

“Because it makes me lose control.”

I moan loudly as he slams his stiff erection to the hilt. My eyes water as he groans, my brain simmering in pleasure as I contract around him.

I feel so full.

“Did my pretty little backpack lose her tongue?” He pulls back. “Maybe I should fuck that bratty mouth of yours. Make sure it’s still there.”

“Yes,” I whisper as he presses forward, cramming his cock deep inside me. Tears run down my cheeks as my mouth twists. “Whatever you want.”

He rubs a hand along my spine, all the way between my shoulders, then fists my hair. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Barbie.” He leans closer until his beard brushes my cheek, his voice laced with effort as he murmurs, “I’m going to fuck my favorite little hole until I shoot my load as far as you can take it.”

I whimper, breathing in the scent of dirt and grass.

“You can come as many times as you want to. As many times as you manage. But I’m not going to stop for you. I will fuck you as hard, and as deep and for however long I wish to.”

He groans when I move my hips to grind against him, looking for a release.

“And once I’m done with you, I’ll flip you around and clean you up with my fingers. I’ll push them deep inside you, get them coated with my pleasure and yours, then push them down your throat until you’ve cleaned up the mess you made.”

My face rubs against the grass as I nod, and a whimper accompanies every breath from my lips. I can’t think anymore, can’t keep still. My nails dig into my wrist, and my arousal drips down my inner thighs.

“Watch me while I fuck you into the dirt, backpack.”

With his hand still gripping my hair, my neck is angled to the right, and though every one of my muscles strains in this position, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him looming over me. And it’s so worth it.

I keep my eyes on him just like he asked, but at the first thrust, they cross, the mix of pleasure and pain making lights explode in my brain. Then a second comes, and a third, and soon enough, I’m overwhelmed, only able to submit to him.

“Logan,” I call, my legs shaking as an orgasm moves through me and takes over my body. “Oh my god—oh my?—”

Pleasure ripples through me, his thrusts faltering when I clench around him.

He moans as his rhythm picks up again, and with my orgasm still echoing through me, I cry out. It’s too much to take—too much pleasure, too much brute force—and then, it’s not nearly enough. His cock works me up again, and before long, I’m on the brink of another orgasm, and his hand is tugging at my hair as a reminder he wants me to watch him.

Eyes struggling to stay open, I stare at his taut jaw, his hungry eyes. He stares back for a while, then looks between us, his eyes fluttering. “You should see this, Barbie. My cock disappearing into your drenched pussy.”

With a loud hum piercing the silence, I call his name, and my orgasm explodes around his shaft for the second time in a handful of minutes. This time, he doesn’t ease at all, his speed increasing as his hips slap against my ass.

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