Chapter 2: Reclamation: The Suburban Goddess Rides
The loft’s air tasted of old brick and his skin. Lisa shoved him backwards onto the bed, the steel frame groaning in protest. “You don’t get to walk away after one round,” she said, her voice a low rasp he hadn’t heard in the bar. She climbed atop him, her knees pinning his hips, her dress rucked up around her waist. His cock, still wet from her, lay thick and heavy against his stomach. She grasped it, guiding herself onto him with a slow, sinking groan that was all triumph. “I own this dick tonight.”
She rode him with a savage, building rhythm, her ass slapping against his thighs. “Touch them,” she demanded, grabbing his hands and forcing them to her breasts, still confined in her lace bra. He squeezed, his thumbs rough on her nipples through the fabric, but when his hips began to piston upward to meet her, she stopped. Her hand cracked across his face, a sharp, stinging report in the dusty space. “No.”
She leaned down, her blonde hair a messy curtain around their faces. “You’re just a fucktoy now,” she snarled, her breath hot. “You give. I take.” She began moving again, a ruthless, grinding pace that sought only her own pleasure, using his body as a tool. “Give me everything or I’ll ruin you.” His hands gripped her hips, not to steer her, but to hold on as she took him apart. The sounds were raw, wet, obscene. She came with a choked scream, her cunt milking him in violent pulses, and only then did she allow him to follow, his release a deep, shuddering surrender inside her.