Page 84 of Playboy Pitcher
Holding my stare, he reaches beside me and returns with yellow pudding dripping from his finger. Without a word, he brings it to his lips and licks it off. “Any more questions?”
“No.”
“Good, because I’m going to fuck you now.” It’s only then that I glance down and see how painfully hard he is. I move to help him, but he already has his pants pushed down his legs before I can reach for him.
He called me a work of art, but his body is a sculptor’s dream. His cock is commanding. Stacked with endless power. The epitome of virility, and the perfect extension of the man himself.
It’s also impatient, angry, and filled with so much hedonistic need, it’s curling toward his stomach and leaking venom.
I hold out my hand. “Ben, wait…”
“No,” he growls, his eyes so dark I can’t see the blue anymore. “No more waiting.” Grabbing my thighs, he yanks me so close to the edge of the counter my ass barely hangs on. His chest is heaving as he grips the base of his swollen cock and gives it a few furious pumps.
I’m mesmerized, flooding his counter at the sight of his hand violently working his own body. I should say no. If I fight him, he won’t take me against my will. But I want him so badly I can barely breathe.
“Then fuck me,” I plead.
Exhaling hard, Ben places his free palm on my chest, his nostrils flaring as he pushes me back until I lay flat against the counter. Releasing his cock, he pushes my thighs so wide I whine in protest. I don’t have time to think about the pain because, with an animalistic roar, he surges forward, driving his cock into me with one thrust.
I cry out, stars bursting behind my eyelids at the invasion, but Ben doesn’t relent. He immediately pulls back, only to drive back in like a man possessed. “Ben!” I rasp, grabbing onto his arms for purchase.
He doesn’t slow down. One word slips past his clenched teeth as he fucks me so hard, I wonder if I’ll ever recover.
“Mine.”
As soon as the word pierces the tension, Ben explodes, throwing my legs over his shoulders and driving deeper. All I can do is brace my palms against the wall to prevent my head from slamming into it.
It isn’t until I feel the familiar tightening in my belly that lust wears off, and sanity takes over. But it’s too late. It’s too good. I cry out again as he flings me off a cliff, and I free fall into an all-consuming orgasm.
“Ben,” I choke out, my body convulsing. “C-c-o-…ah!” Another scream tears from my throat as his cock swells and jerks inside me.No. No. No.“C-c-o-n-dom…” I manage to get out. “Condom. Forgot.”
Ben’s head snaps up, his eyes widening. “Fuuuck!” he roars, pulling out of me so fast, I cry out again. Fisting his cock, he pumps violently, throwing his head back with a roar as he comes.
On my pussy.
On my ugly yellow dress.
On my chest.
By the time he’s done, there’s not one inch of me that’s not marked. We both just stare at it, before I burst into hysterical laughter.
Ben stands there, dick out, scratching the back of his head. “Not exactly the response a guy wants to hear right after fucking his girl, Puddles.”
I shake my head, tears rolling down my face. “It’s not that,” I wheeze in between gulps of air. “It’s this dress.”
“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry, but I didn’t know if you were on—”
I wave my hand, dragging in a choking breath. “You made it less ugly.”
A lopsided smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Come on, dirty girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Wait,” I protest, glancing over at the defiled dessert. “I never tasted your creation.”
This time, it’s Ben who laughs. Digging his finger through the trifle, he holds it up to my face as it drips lemon pudding. “Have at it.”
Shaking my head, I guide his finger down to my stomach, then slowly drag it through a thick line of cum. Ben’s breathing grows labored, his cock hardening again. Drunk with power, I hold his eye as I wrap my lips around his finger and lick it clean.
A tortured groan rumbles in his throat as he pulls up his jeans. “If you weren’t already my wife, I’d marry you just for that.”
