Mm, good. Real good, ( rene breathes as he starts towards her apartment building — and not soon enough. he wasn't expecting the sound of her voice, even through the speaker of his phone, to do him in as bad as it does.
it's a sudden punch to the gut, cascading waves and waves of god damn need through him that he can't seem to placate; his feet don't move fast enough. god, she's got him good.
he's glad the streets are mostly empty by this time of night, at least in the residential district, 'cause he probably looks completely loco right now power-walking down the sidewalk with a phone pressed against his ear, his gaze harsh. ) Go ahead, gimme a little taste, mamí. You can touch yourself. I wanna hear.
( a kittenish snicker is let through the phone, giving a sultry little graze of fingertips as instructed, maroon nails grazing along the centre of her abdomen til she reaches the hem of that cropped sweater—a slow arch of notched spine causes bottom curve of her breasts to just peek in display, but she stops there, tongue splitting her lips. )
I bet you'd like that. ( she's still got a bit of that taunting edge to her tone, a hint of brooklyn in it's roots. only there's no use now denying what he's done to her, how she's wet at the heated apex of her thighs, how his voice is roughened enough to nearly encourage her to lay back on that bed once more. but she won't. not if he wants anyone to open that front door for him. )
You want me to spoil the surprise, carino? Tell me where you want me to touch. ( til you're here to do it for yourself. )
( there's a low bout of laughter at that, a bittersweet, ) Like you could spoil anything.
( certainly not the insistent tightness at the front of his jeans, goddamn aggravating but no less welcome, especially when she decides that she wants him to tell her where to touch. that's a lot of power for a headstrong guy, and he's happy to roll with it, turning a corner towards her apartment building. )
I want you to tell me how wet you are, baby girl. ( another statement that drifts off his tongue before he knows what he's even saying, his whole body far too tense and keyed up for him to even be cognizant of anything around him, pretty much just on autopilot. in the meantime, he arrives to what he thinks is the building, buzzes up to be let into the front door to the complex. )
Yeah? ( an airy, melodious note to her tone, meant to goad the impatience she know wavers against his tongue. he's all fluent want, laugh of his carrying a warmth she has a feeling doesn't often come about, but she's far too distracted to linger on the thought. later, perhaps. for now, she'll indulge him a caress of middle and ring digits side by side to the seam of her panties, hips giving a small rut in response, a sigh let into the phone. )
You mean how wet you've gotten me? ( a prodding, just before quiet buzz gives way to his arrival, hues flitting up toward the hall leading into the entry. she keeps him cradled to her ear as quiet steps lead her toward her front door, thumb hovering over the button that'll let him up, but she pauses, tongue pressing against the back of crowns. )
Decir por favor, papi. And I'll let you come see for yourself.
( there's an exasperated groan at her little request, the sound of her voice instead of the telltale sign of a door's lock clicking open, a light thud as his forehead leans against the glass window next to the front doorway. )
Please, ( he insists, one finger pressed on the speaker button, his other hand getting shoved hastily into the pocket of his hoodie as though the indirect contact might help him out, sate his hunger a little until she lets him in. ) Por favor, Isabelle. Te necesito mucho. He esperado demasiado.
( he can't stop thinking about how wet she is, surely, and the desperation to find out for himself, to slip his fingers between her thighs, to run roughened fingertips over damp lace, to take her over his knee and spank her for making him wait so damned long, absolutely eats at him. )
( he can't see it, but undoubtedly he knows of the grin that's perched wickedly across her mouth, brims still carrying that familiar ruby tint—thank the angel for lipsticks that withheld an entire day's wear. if not, he'll hear it in the way following words lace together like velvet, dripping with praise and a click of her tongue. ) Good boy.
( a reciprocated buzz, and the locks set before him are quietly shifted from their place. ) 32A. ( and that's all she gives him, ending the call thereafter only to set phone atop the endtable beside her.
it isn't as if she's expecting him to come up with such behavior in tact, in fact she's hoping for the opposite; it may be easy to keep at this little game they've started while he isn't just before her, but she knows herself well enough, knows her discipline will crumble wildly the moment there's hands on her like a promise to sate what she needs, and god it'd been far too long. what's waiting for him is exactly as that snapchat suggested, paired with tousled, thick ebony locks and a hint of what remains of her perfume. )
( good boy, she says, and in any other situation — a situation in which rene can think clearly, unburdened by the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears, powered by adrenaline coursing through his veins — he'd laugh at the irony of it all. wild dog, a good boy.
he has no intention of being good for the remainder of the evening, though, now that the seemingly final obstacle has been cleared; the lock clicks, a sound that cuts right through the tension in him. rene is hardly cognizant of his actions as he opens the front door, immediately heads for the stairwell and starts up them, fueled purely by his desires than coherent thinking, phone shoved hastily into the pocket of his hoodie and quickly forgotten.
third floor, apartment 2A. his fingers, curled into a tight fist, rap against the door, knuckles against painted metal. one, two, three, and that's all it takes. now comes perhaps the most difficult part — the anticipation between the knock and the door opening, and he could practically salivate simply thinking about wait awaits him behind it. )
( she doesn't go far in the brief span of time it takes him to scale those stairs, rather she's perched herself against the back of her couch that's merely a few feet from the entry, breeze courting past gauze curtains to kiss flesh that's left bare to the room. it's like a taunting graze of his palms, of what's to come, only chilled where his touch will undoubtedly run hot, far less gentle.
but she's far from a girl who desires nor needs to be treated delicately.
she could prolong this even further, purposefully wait at that opposite end like she doesn't want it just as badly as he, but just as she raises her chin with an heiress when it comes to taunting, she just as so knows when to give in. so she does, and now it's her apartment's locks that slip out of place, the moment she opens that door feeling the current thrumming from his figure, and despite the initial pause to revel in him reveling in her, she's reaching out a palm to ravel into the fabric of his shirt. a tug, humming low in the hollow of her throat—carnal in it's tone.
( the door opens and it's like everything freezes in that moment. his eyes rake over her body, take in lace and cropped fabric and skin and those red lips, pupils dilated from the incessant need that's taken over his body, burning through his veins.
the way rene sees it, he has two options. one, he can grab that ass that taunted him so in the snap that started this whole thing, pull her flush against him and kiss those lips that have all but tormented him in his dreams since that first day he met her, going toe to toe with her at the gym. his adrenaline then pales in comparison to what's taken hold of him so completely right now.
or he could hoist her over his shoulder without a single word, effortless, his arm wrapping tight around her legs to keep them still, show her exactly how this is gonna go down based on their conversation, on promises made, on desires he hardly knew he had within himself, unfulfilled. he knows what he's capable of. he knows what she's capable of.
so that's what he does. one grunt and she's hauled over his shoulder, heart thudding as his eyes adjust to the low light of her apartment, head towards where he can only assume the bedroom lies. a few more steps and the real action can begin. )
( it's no more than a few seconds that passes between her fingers tangled within that shirt, door shutting behind them and his eyes running over her within the dark, but it suspends between them infinitely. the cage of her ribs alights with a fire even his messages, the sound of him hadn't elicited. it's thrilling, undeniably, as if his gaze was enough on it's own to touch her, graze between her thighs, a hot breath into the crook of her neck.
she wants him. dios, she wants him, and while part of her knows their little tat for tat would far from fall hushed when they could actually get their hands on one another, it's only a matter of time now when it's all so tangible, so overwhelming, before one of them snaps.
it's a gasp equally surprised as it is amused the moment she's hoisted over his shoulder, heart giving a heavied thud as he'd closed in, only to effortlessly haul her and leave hands reflexively clinging to the broad scope of his back, feeling the intricate muscles work beneath as he moved. it's clear in the way he holds her, grips her, that his intent is nowhere near playful, purring up an airy sound as nails bite into his side, maybe a bit purposefully harsh, blood rushing swiftly to her temples. )
So needy, papi. ( a snicker, one that might not belong but dismisses her lips regardless, draped in honey and longing. )
( she calls him needy, as though she is not the very cause of it all — the near-tingling in his palms, the dryness in his throat, the neediness that tightens within him, holds onto him like a vice, begs for release. in another time, he might laugh, but this feeling that's overtaken him — this scenario they've played out — doesn't allow it now.
instead, his free hand, far too impatient for him to resist any longer what with the thing he desires most quite literally within his gasp, kneads the curve of her ass with his palm, fingers dipping beneath the thin lace that hardly covers her. he thinks he might indulge in what she asked for through text, but for her little comment —
index finger and thumb pinch together, hard enough to leave a faint mark later, though smaller than whatever he'll later inflict upon her, teeth catching his lower lip for a moment before he chides: ) I already told you — I ain't playing around tonight, mama.
( her bedroom, as dimly lit as the rest of the apartment, which suits them in this moment, he thinks. there's no hesitation before he sits on the edge of her bed, repositions her across his lap where she'll surely feel the fruits of her effort, hard and pressing. one hand brushes her hair over her shoulder so he can really look at her, as absolutely fucking gorgeous as he remembers, fingers idly carding through her hair, as slow as the hand that gently caresses both of her ass cheeks, fingers flexing against her skin every now and again, like foreshadowing of what's to come. )
( he knows exactly why she's said it, just what reaction she hopes to draw from him, and he's only played into it far too well. the pinch he leaves beneath that wet, lacy layer startles a whimper from beneath her tongue, teeth catching at it's tip to suspend the sound into a shaky exhale before it reaches it's full body, before it gives him too much pride that he'll likely soon leave crying from her lips. his tone nears threatening, and there's something dangerously intoxicating to it all, the way he handles her as he finds the edge of that bed, situating her how he wants her; taking her how he wants her.
never has she allowed a man such control. never has she wanted them to have it, use it. just like this. ) Yeah?
So what are you going to do about it, vida?
( he's got her sprawled over his lap, and while she could play up being a good girl for him and keep still, she instead uses her knees at his opposite side to perk her ass up a bit, just enough to give it a teasing sway, glancing over the sharp line of her shoulder to watch the movement herself, the way his large palm kneads against supple flesh. lips roll together, hues flitting sharply up to his beneath sooty, thick lashes, smirk pulling back to reveal the white of her teeth. )
( never has rene done anything even remotely like this before, but it feels so god damn right. his fate always feels just out of his grasp, but this is the one thing that he can control. all it would take is another pinch of his fingers, nails digging into her soft skin, to earn another sharp inhale from her that rattles her whole body.
or, he could go for so much more, eyes dark as they hone in on the tantalizing sway of her hips beneath his palm, gaze raking over the curvature of her spine until it meets gray fabric, over her perfect smirk. she knows all too well what she's doing, knows how to get what she wants. who is he to deny her? )
Teach you why you should never do that again. ( his touch is still relatively light against her, more exploratory than anything. rene takes a deep breath, exhales slowly for a moment. ) Mi niña mala...
( there's a short tutting sound that escapes him, and then he finally indulges her, palm lifting so he can spank her for the first time, feeling the sting of it linger even after it settles against her skin again, caresses over what's surely a reddened handprint as though to soothe. god damn, that felt good.
it doesn't matter if he's trying to teach her that she shouldn't make him wait or else he'll have to punish her for it, or if he's trying to teach her that she shouldn't make him wait because of how good it'll feel when she indulges him; he's pretty damn sure he'll get his point across. )
( isabelle knows better than to doubt that fact that he could likely make her swallow back her words and plea instead for a reprieve, for more (and then deny her, yet), but she knows at least tonight he's just as pent up as she is, if the hard line of him pressing at the front of his jeans has anything to say on the matter.
so even when his tongue rolls so fluently to prep that single, resounding smack to her ass, she can't help the way lids fall closed to relish in the white heat that rolls over her, the sound that blossoms from the heart of her throat, causing lips to break apart into a gratified sigh. )
Mmh—
( a drawn hiss through her teeth, brows giving the tiniest furrow before gaze opens ablaze once more to study his features, written over predatorily. it's only once that sharp sting begins to slowly, slowly dissipate in favor of that now-caressing palm that she dares speak up again, voice carrying a hint of strain. it's clear that he's gotten to her, perhaps edged away a fraction of the resilience flaunted when he'd walked in that door, but she was never an easy catch. he wouldn't be here if she was. ) You don't like me being bad, papi?
I like you, baby, ( rene says with a huff of laughter, low in his throat. ) And I like that you like to be bad. ( his palm kneads again, a slow massage of her skin by hands fight-roughened. )
'Cause I know how bad you want this — ( another spank, firm as the last, but against her other cheek, the sting of it seeming to course right through him. the way she flinches when he does it, her whole body squirming against his lap, makes how bad he fucking wants her hard to ignore.
rene, for once in his life, doesn't wanna rush this, though, despite every fiber of his being practically screaming at him to drop her against the bed, bury himself between her thighs. no, no, he has to sate himself another way; another spank, because apparently he's feeling generous, and without warning, his fingers delve between those thighs, brush rough against lace that's warm, practically soaked with her sheer need for him. it elicits a groan from him, not bothering to try hiding it. god, she is so fucking hot.
his fingers curl around that thin piece of lace, his hand sliding back upwards and pulling her panties taut against her, bunched fabric tight between those beautiful cheeks, to give her the sensation of it and greedily, to expose more of her skin to him; he'll remove them when he's good and ready, or else he's a goner. ) Dios, mami. You're something else.
( she takes care to let any little writhe of hips in anticipation and response to those smacks brush intentionally against him, a kiss of friction to contest the fires he's set to her skin, even beneath bronzed dermis. she can hear it in the way he talks to her, natural as it seems for him to find that tongue in such circumstances, how much he struggles to keep himself inline, some semblance of discipline from taking her the moment he'd opened that door.
this time when a hit lands to her bottom, there's a hitch of a breath inward, held at the roof of her mouth with a press of tongue, finally letting lids fall closed to a heavenward roll. he's precise with every slap, how he tucks two digits beneath that laced layer to pull taut against the bundle of her clit, graze against the heat of her, and she can't help but to rock herself into it. it wasn't usual for her to have a man strut into her home, toss her over their shoulder and have her over their knee in so short a span of time, but there's a devilish temptation that comes with him, cruel to resist, and she doesn't want to anymore.
she's been good long enough; cadelle could serve as some sort of the reprieve she needed. teeth drain that vixen-red color from her lips as they snatch down, hair a thick spill of waves along one side of her neck, palms keeping her in place causing fabric of that cropped hoodie to rise, plentiful breasts brushing against her comforter. ) You look like you could use a little attention.
( a suggestive clip, reaching a single hand between them to deftly make work of his jeans' fastening, arch of her spine accentuating all the further to give herself proper room to do so. her bottom already boasts a rosy hue— while she can give him some bite of control, it wasn't in the lightwood way not to find some sort of means to get ahead. rounded tip of nails trails beneath his navel, giving a snap to his briefs. ) What it is you want, hermoso?
( the way she grinds against the pulled fabric is sexy, the feeling of her moving and squirming against his lap so seemingly precise he thinks it could drive him right over the edge. the crack in rene's very fragile sense of self control seems to spread further and further by the second, spiderwebbing outwards, threatening to shatter entirely with a single touch, a single roll of hips, the catching of teeth against ruby lips.
he wants her so bad that it hurts, cock aching with desire as it presses against the confines of his jeans, and he knows that izzy knows it; she'd virtually had him to this point before he'd pulled the hoodie over his head and stormed outside, switching from hastily typed words to a breathy voice in his ear.
she knows. it's why her hand dares to slip between their bodies, graze over his thigh until it can undo the button of his jeans, tug the zipper down to reveal the waistband of his briefs, taught against carved hip bones. the drag of fingernails beneath his navel makes him groan, his own hand giving her ass a squeeze as though it's the only thing he could possibly hold onto in this moment to steady himself.
he's surprised he can hear her question over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment at the sting of the waistband snapping against his skin. ) I want to be inside of you, ( comes his low reply through gritted teeth. with a steadying breath, his eyes blink open, gaze dark as it takes in the sight of her over his knee, the peek of rounded breasts beneath her cropped hoodie, the arch of her back, the lingering swell of red over her curved bottom. he feels as though he may burst, too much pent up inside of him. ) Do you think you deserve that, baby girl? ( another spank, this one no lighter, followed by a matching one to the other cheek, before his palm smooths over her skin again, massages slow and deep. another comment that sounds like a challenge, a dare: ) You tell me, since you're so damn mouthy.
( there’s a haste that begs to take hold of them, and while it’d be all too easy to straddle her into his lap, slip down those briefs and jeans of just enough to press into her, he’s still wearing far too much for her liking, but she hasn’t the mind to crawl off of him just yet. especially not when he soothes over those raw prints he’d left behind, flesh rouge and searing. groans are all the more vivid, dirtied and private now that he’s beside her, under her, against her, now that she can feel them claw at the hollow of his chest.
his admission rewards him with a breath of a mew, startled to a gasp as his palm strikes her again, one to each cheek—shoulder blades pinch together, crown tipping back to leave locks spilling over her spine, stolen for the moment at that heated lick of pain that runs through her. she’ll be sore tomorrow, there’s no denying it, and while she has an easy means of healing the abused area over, she just might enjoy feeling him every time she sits, like a lingering punishment. )
Someone deserves a reward for this, no? ( a huff of a reply while she gathers a steadier tone, unable to keep herself still against him, to keep from pressing against that pull of fabric, chasing any means of friction she can find whether she’s given body permission or not. a moan laces it’s way through pressed lips, left in a slight part. she’s not shy to drag the heart of her palm down further along his briefs, rubbing its heel along the line of him, thick and hard and all because of her. ) But I don’t think it matters. ‘Cause you need it.
( a daring grab of his cock through that cotton, dampened near the swell of his tip. ) Don’t you, cari?
( rene's not good at this — well, maybe he's aight, but it's a learning process for sure, learning the delicate balance between sating certain desires and leaving the others to wait, self-control at an expert level, in order to earn a better payoff.
if he were, perhaps he'd wrap his free hand around her wrist, snatch it away and pin it against the bed, really give her a spanking for touching him without permission, for trying to take matters into her own hands when he's clearly the one in charge here. he'd bark some equally mouthy retort
his self-control levels are certainly not at an expert level. instead, he can only let out a sharp breath, tip his head back and let deft fingers curl around him, an agonizing layer of cotton between them, his cock twitching in response to her touch, precome leaking from the head. teeth catch his lower lip, suppress a moan, a desperate plea for more as though he's not the one in charge here.
— wait, but he is. rene's response isn't verbal, is merely the meeting of his sharp gaze with hers. fuck it.
there isn't a shred of gentleness with how he practically manhandles her yet again, scoops her up and drops her onto her back on the bed. nails drag against the soft skin at her hips as he yanks those dampened panties off of her, tossed to the floor somewhere, and he doesn't even have the patience to do anything more than gruffly pull his jeans and briefs down over his ass, crawl over her and guide his cock inside of her and it's —
fuck, she's so good, so wet because of him, warm and tight as she accommodates him, his hipbones pressed against her as she fully takes him, a moaned out, ) Fuck, mami —
( this is what she'd been edging him towards, that glaze that takes over his hues when they snap to hers, that moment he tries to keep from giving in so soon when the reward is so sweet. and she'd snicker, she would, but it's a daze of motions that leaves her twirled and falling to the plush of that mattress, watching with iris' blown to black pools the way he shoves down what layers he needs to in order to take her, and thighs part all too willingly to accommodate.
there wasn't anything between them that demanded they take their time, play up any set of morals or boundaries of respect—she'd been clear on her intentions upon her invitation, and so there isn't any guilt. any shame to the way she hastily makes purchase with nails at the lower of his back, slipping beneath the thick cotton of his own hoodie to clasp onto him as he grabs the base of his cock and aligns himself, fills and stretches her with a single, full stroke. )
Se siente rico— ( natural tongue finds her, words stumbling from her lips in a rushed pant, velveteen walls giving a gratified clasp around his width, trying desperately to adjust. a swallowed back whimper, giving him no choice but to aid her in tugging that upper layer of his up and off of his frame, revealing an array of scars amidst ridges of definition, marveling both of her palms appreciatively along each plane of his chest. another time she'd map them with her lips, a trace of fingertips, right now all she can think about is the way she practically pulses around him, finding his eyes in the dark of that bedroom with a kindred hunger.
thick, creamy canvas of her thighs find each side of him, using her calve against his bottom to give a last little pull of his hips, assuring he's jarred into her as far as possible. )
( he'd feel stupid for waiting so god damn long when she feels so good, but the build up — these long moments spread into nearly hours — plural — of anticipation, of getting them both more ready than they've possibly ever been has turned out to be well worth it. the feeling of being inside of her, of having legs drawn tightly around him to pull him in as close as physically possible, the way her body shifts with him to take his length —
his eyes practically roll into the back of his head with pleasure as she takes him to the hilt, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment while he just savors this feeling, this oh-so-prevalent feeling of satisfaction.
her voice is music to his ears, spilling past reddened lips, and his senses are far too overloaded to fight the tug of his sweatshirt over his head, left hanging somewhere on the edge of the bed — a godsend, considering the sheen of sweat coating his skin once it's gone. rene will do the same in time, surely, but for now, there are other matters at hand, pressing in a way that renders everything else unimportant.
slowly, slowly, rene arcs his hips backwards, cock sliding with ease from within her until only the head remains, and then he grinds back into her, fingers curling into the sheets on either side of isabelle's head. it's an agonizingly slow pace that he's setting, but he knows that it won't last long with how tight she is around him, how far she's driven him with her words and very little touch.
his face remains just above, lips a breath away from hers — hell, he can feel each and every pant that passes her lips, can practically taste the sound of her whimper — and he murmurs, voice strained, ) Tú bien, cariña?
( she can't decide where to latch her gaze as his hips give that slow withdraw, jaw tightening and crowns catching unforgivably at own lower lip, hues flitting down to watch the way his abdomen contracts, the sharp lines along each hip bone that only draw her sights to him, watching til the plush of his cock only teases inside of her before she's full once again. a moan flowers from the bed of her throat, chest bowing from the mattress, toes curling inward. )
Si, papi— ( breathless- there's some part of her, dazed and distant that processes his words, eventually finds a means of putting thought to tongue and tongue to words when it can barely wrap itself around a breath that isn't ragged, too caught up in how good it felt—the way he stretches her out, how fluently he grinds his hips to hers to ensure he hits right to that sensitive spot at her limits, giving in to something she's needed for far too long.
one hand's raveled itself agains his forearm just beside her, some means to ground herself, a thin layer of sweat like dew left sheen across her temples, and when wide eyes flutter open again they're fixed to his, studying the way pleasure twitches at his mouth, lids at half mast.
crown tips in order to grab at his fuller lip, suck it gently between the plush of her own brims before giving him a taste of teeth, sharp and sweet in the bite that's left behind, and once more that competitive glint arises. ) More.
( isabelle, rene has very slowly learned, is an expert at getting whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. first, the buzz of his phone, an image revealed, and she got him here. next, his hands on her, rough and unforgiving, just as she'd asked. even now, with him inside of her, those ruby lips capture his, teeth tug at his lower lip, needy and fuck, he is all too happy too happy to indulge her, indulge that request — that demand for more.
it's now that he realizes that he hasn't just straight up kissed her yet, and that shit ain't gonna fly. no, his lips crash hard against hers, a little messy, definitely a little dirty, tongue licking into her mouth as his lips part against hers.
this doesn't deter the movement of his hips, grinding hard into her, burying his cock deep as he picks up his pace — more, all for her, the girl who has pushed him further than anyone ever has, and even still, he finds himself craving more.
rene leans his weight against her, skin against skin, a low moan against her painted lips as he hits just the right spot, dios — and he can't help the way his fingers, grabbing at the sheets below, catch some of her hair as they curl inward, tug as he tries to steady himself as he fucks her. ) Isabelle, ( he groans — there's no izzy, no mamí or other terms of endearment, just each syllable of her name carried past his lips like a prayer. )
( there's nothing traditional about the two of them—it wasn't as if she was a woman who couldn't appreciate pleasure for what it was, but it's so rare she let herself follow those threads of desire back home, let herself focus on anything other than work, on who she needed to protect. she's not used to only having herself to look after; being selfish wasn't in her nature, despite the way she'll claim his mouth as if against hers is the only place it belongs when it finally finds her, that she'll exhaust herself into him now that she has him, now that he's nestled himself a home between her thighs.
she doesn't have the discipline to keep from wanting him, needing him, hollow of her throat exposed as his fingers tangle within her locks just as they do those sheets, a flare of soft pain amidst the bundle of heat he coils beneath her navel each time he fucks into her. and he doesn't shy from giving her exactly what she'd asked for—mierda the way he rolls his hips to hers, licks into the cave of her mouth as if it were his own, how he's not afraid to challenge her for that control while simultaneously submitting to her.
it's the first time he's said her name, the first time she can put that lilt of an accent twined together with an equally intoxicating tone and she wants nothing more than to hear it again. it sobers her, tears her from that kitten-like mentality and layers a sincerity she hadn't expected in it's place, like an intimacy begging to let itself be shown if they weren't so collectively stubborn. he leaves her mouth all the more blushed as lips part, messy and interrupted, a bit of that tenderness slipping— ) That's good, baby-
( an admission that breaks to a pretty little whine, mouths stumbling together but not quite taking, too distracted by the way she winds her waist up to meet him now with each thrust, shivers at the way abdomens brush, slipping free hand up from that bed to ravel at the nape of his neck. she wants to keep him there, just there, nose to nose, swallowing each other's sounds and chasing each other's pace faster. )
( it's intense, the way she holds him right there, half-moons of her nails just barely pressing into tanned skin at the back of his neck, nose to nose, lips a breath away from one another, rene's dark gaze staring into hers like he'd rather not look at anything else ever again.
his breathing is shallow, heartbeat pounding in his ears as his hips thrust into her, picking up speed, 'cause damn, he just can't help himself when she feels this good, when she moans against his lips and calls him baby and tells him how good he's doing. he likes hearing her like that, voice thick with lust, words that seem to leave her of their own volition.
before he knows it, isabelle is grinding against him, finding that sweet, sweet rhythm of his hips and matches him move for move. that's enough to really make him moan, burying it in another messy kiss, greedy in the way his lips capture hers, the way his hips rock relentlessly against hers, the twisting of desire beneath his navel knotting so tightly he doesn't know how much longer he can take it. )
I'm real fucking close, ( rene breathes, chin tipped upwards so he can try to slow down how fucking lost in her he is, head practically spinning and coherent thought all but vanished. ) You tell me what you need to get there, baby girl, yeah? ( it feels like his words slip out in a jumble, but he's desperate to know, wants her to cling to him and her walls to tighten around him even more, wants her thighs to shake around him and her cry to carry through this whole damn apartment. )
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it's a sudden punch to the gut, cascading waves and waves of god damn need through him that he can't seem to placate; his feet don't move fast enough. god, she's got him good.
he's glad the streets are mostly empty by this time of night, at least in the residential district, 'cause he probably looks completely loco right now power-walking down the sidewalk with a phone pressed against his ear, his gaze harsh. ) Go ahead, gimme a little taste, mamí. You can touch yourself. I wanna hear.
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I bet you'd like that. ( she's still got a bit of that taunting edge to her tone, a hint of brooklyn in it's roots. only there's no use now denying what he's done to her, how she's wet at the heated apex of her thighs, how his voice is roughened enough to nearly encourage her to lay back on that bed once more. but she won't. not if he wants anyone to open that front door for him. )
You want me to spoil the surprise, carino? Tell me where you want me to touch. ( til you're here to do it for yourself. )
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( certainly not the insistent tightness at the front of his jeans, goddamn aggravating but no less welcome, especially when she decides that she wants him to tell her where to touch. that's a lot of power for a headstrong guy, and he's happy to roll with it, turning a corner towards her apartment building. )
I want you to tell me how wet you are, baby girl. ( another statement that drifts off his tongue before he knows what he's even saying, his whole body far too tense and keyed up for him to even be cognizant of anything around him, pretty much just on autopilot. in the meantime, he arrives to what he thinks is the building, buzzes up to be let into the front door to the complex. )
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You mean how wet you've gotten me? ( a prodding, just before quiet buzz gives way to his arrival, hues flitting up toward the hall leading into the entry. she keeps him cradled to her ear as quiet steps lead her toward her front door, thumb hovering over the button that'll let him up, but she pauses, tongue pressing against the back of crowns. )
Decir por favor, papi. And I'll let you come see for yourself.
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Please, ( he insists, one finger pressed on the speaker button, his other hand getting shoved hastily into the pocket of his hoodie as though the indirect contact might help him out, sate his hunger a little until she lets him in. ) Por favor, Isabelle. Te necesito mucho. He esperado demasiado.
( he can't stop thinking about how wet she is, surely, and the desperation to find out for himself, to slip his fingers between her thighs, to run roughened fingertips over damp lace, to take her over his knee and spank her for making him wait so damned long, absolutely eats at him. )
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( a reciprocated buzz, and the locks set before him are quietly shifted from their place. ) 32A. ( and that's all she gives him, ending the call thereafter only to set phone atop the endtable beside her.
it isn't as if she's expecting him to come up with such behavior in tact, in fact she's hoping for the opposite; it may be easy to keep at this little game they've started while he isn't just before her, but she knows herself well enough, knows her discipline will crumble wildly the moment there's hands on her like a promise to sate what she needs, and god it'd been far too long. what's waiting for him is exactly as that snapchat suggested, paired with tousled, thick ebony locks and a hint of what remains of her perfume. )
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he has no intention of being good for the remainder of the evening, though, now that the seemingly final obstacle has been cleared; the lock clicks, a sound that cuts right through the tension in him. rene is hardly cognizant of his actions as he opens the front door, immediately heads for the stairwell and starts up them, fueled purely by his desires than coherent thinking, phone shoved hastily into the pocket of his hoodie and quickly forgotten.
third floor, apartment 2A. his fingers, curled into a tight fist, rap against the door, knuckles against painted metal. one, two, three, and that's all it takes. now comes perhaps the most difficult part — the anticipation between the knock and the door opening, and he could practically salivate simply thinking about wait awaits him behind it. )
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but she's far from a girl who desires nor needs to be treated delicately.
she could prolong this even further, purposefully wait at that opposite end like she doesn't want it just as badly as he, but just as she raises her chin with an heiress when it comes to taunting, she just as so knows when to give in. so she does, and now it's her apartment's locks that slip out of place, the moment she opens that door feeling the current thrumming from his figure, and despite the initial pause to revel in him reveling in her, she's reaching out a palm to ravel into the fabric of his shirt. a tug, humming low in the hollow of her throat—carnal in it's tone.
he can get a good and proper look inside. )
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the way rene sees it, he has two options. one, he can grab that ass that taunted him so in the snap that started this whole thing, pull her flush against him and kiss those lips that have all but tormented him in his dreams since that first day he met her, going toe to toe with her at the gym. his adrenaline then pales in comparison to what's taken hold of him so completely right now.
or he could hoist her over his shoulder without a single word, effortless, his arm wrapping tight around her legs to keep them still, show her exactly how this is gonna go down based on their conversation, on promises made, on desires he hardly knew he had within himself, unfulfilled. he knows what he's capable of. he knows what she's capable of.
so that's what he does. one grunt and she's hauled over his shoulder, heart thudding as his eyes adjust to the low light of her apartment, head towards where he can only assume the bedroom lies. a few more steps and the real action can begin. )
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she wants him. dios, she wants him, and while part of her knows their little tat for tat would far from fall hushed when they could actually get their hands on one another, it's only a matter of time now when it's all so tangible, so overwhelming, before one of them snaps.
it's a gasp equally surprised as it is amused the moment she's hoisted over his shoulder, heart giving a heavied thud as he'd closed in, only to effortlessly haul her and leave hands reflexively clinging to the broad scope of his back, feeling the intricate muscles work beneath as he moved. it's clear in the way he holds her, grips her, that his intent is nowhere near playful, purring up an airy sound as nails bite into his side, maybe a bit purposefully harsh, blood rushing swiftly to her temples. )
So needy, papi. ( a snicker, one that might not belong but dismisses her lips regardless, draped in honey and longing. )
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instead, his free hand, far too impatient for him to resist any longer what with the thing he desires most quite literally within his gasp, kneads the curve of her ass with his palm, fingers dipping beneath the thin lace that hardly covers her. he thinks he might indulge in what she asked for through text, but for her little comment —
index finger and thumb pinch together, hard enough to leave a faint mark later, though smaller than whatever he'll later inflict upon her, teeth catching his lower lip for a moment before he chides: ) I already told you — I ain't playing around tonight, mama.
( her bedroom, as dimly lit as the rest of the apartment, which suits them in this moment, he thinks. there's no hesitation before he sits on the edge of her bed, repositions her across his lap where she'll surely feel the fruits of her effort, hard and pressing. one hand brushes her hair over her shoulder so he can really look at her, as absolutely fucking gorgeous as he remembers, fingers idly carding through her hair, as slow as the hand that gently caresses both of her ass cheeks, fingers flexing against her skin every now and again, like foreshadowing of what's to come. )
You made me wait a long fucking time, baby girl.
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never has she allowed a man such control. never has she wanted them to have it, use it. just like this. ) Yeah?
So what are you going to do about it, vida?
( he's got her sprawled over his lap, and while she could play up being a good girl for him and keep still, she instead uses her knees at his opposite side to perk her ass up a bit, just enough to give it a teasing sway, glancing over the sharp line of her shoulder to watch the movement herself, the way his large palm kneads against supple flesh. lips roll together, hues flitting sharply up to his beneath sooty, thick lashes, smirk pulling back to reveal the white of her teeth. )
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or, he could go for so much more, eyes dark as they hone in on the tantalizing sway of her hips beneath his palm, gaze raking over the curvature of her spine until it meets gray fabric, over her perfect smirk. she knows all too well what she's doing, knows how to get what she wants. who is he to deny her? )
Teach you why you should never do that again. ( his touch is still relatively light against her, more exploratory than anything. rene takes a deep breath, exhales slowly for a moment. ) Mi niña mala...
( there's a short tutting sound that escapes him, and then he finally indulges her, palm lifting so he can spank her for the first time, feeling the sting of it linger even after it settles against her skin again, caresses over what's surely a reddened handprint as though to soothe. god damn, that felt good.
it doesn't matter if he's trying to teach her that she shouldn't make him wait or else he'll have to punish her for it, or if he's trying to teach her that she shouldn't make him wait because of how good it'll feel when she indulges him; he's pretty damn sure he'll get his point across. )
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so even when his tongue rolls so fluently to prep that single, resounding smack to her ass, she can't help the way lids fall closed to relish in the white heat that rolls over her, the sound that blossoms from the heart of her throat, causing lips to break apart into a gratified sigh. )
Mmh—
( a drawn hiss through her teeth, brows giving the tiniest furrow before gaze opens ablaze once more to study his features, written over predatorily. it's only once that sharp sting begins to slowly, slowly dissipate in favor of that now-caressing palm that she dares speak up again, voice carrying a hint of strain. it's clear that he's gotten to her, perhaps edged away a fraction of the resilience flaunted when he'd walked in that door, but she was never an easy catch. he wouldn't be here if she was. ) You don't like me being bad, papi?
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'Cause I know how bad you want this — ( another spank, firm as the last, but against her other cheek, the sting of it seeming to course right through him. the way she flinches when he does it, her whole body squirming against his lap, makes how bad he fucking wants her hard to ignore.
rene, for once in his life, doesn't wanna rush this, though, despite every fiber of his being practically screaming at him to drop her against the bed, bury himself between her thighs. no, no, he has to sate himself another way; another spank, because apparently he's feeling generous, and without warning, his fingers delve between those thighs, brush rough against lace that's warm, practically soaked with her sheer need for him. it elicits a groan from him, not bothering to try hiding it. god, she is so fucking hot.
his fingers curl around that thin piece of lace, his hand sliding back upwards and pulling her panties taut against her, bunched fabric tight between those beautiful cheeks, to give her the sensation of it and greedily, to expose more of her skin to him; he'll remove them when he's good and ready, or else he's a goner. ) Dios, mami. You're something else.
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this time when a hit lands to her bottom, there's a hitch of a breath inward, held at the roof of her mouth with a press of tongue, finally letting lids fall closed to a heavenward roll. he's precise with every slap, how he tucks two digits beneath that laced layer to pull taut against the bundle of her clit, graze against the heat of her, and she can't help but to rock herself into it. it wasn't usual for her to have a man strut into her home, toss her over their shoulder and have her over their knee in so short a span of time, but there's a devilish temptation that comes with him, cruel to resist, and she doesn't want to anymore.
she's been good long enough; cadelle could serve as some sort of the reprieve she needed. teeth drain that vixen-red color from her lips as they snatch down, hair a thick spill of waves along one side of her neck, palms keeping her in place causing fabric of that cropped hoodie to rise, plentiful breasts brushing against her comforter. ) You look like you could use a little attention.
( a suggestive clip, reaching a single hand between them to deftly make work of his jeans' fastening, arch of her spine accentuating all the further to give herself proper room to do so. her bottom already boasts a rosy hue— while she can give him some bite of control, it wasn't in the lightwood way not to find some sort of means to get ahead. rounded tip of nails trails beneath his navel, giving a snap to his briefs. ) What it is you want, hermoso?
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he wants her so bad that it hurts, cock aching with desire as it presses against the confines of his jeans, and he knows that izzy knows it; she'd virtually had him to this point before he'd pulled the hoodie over his head and stormed outside, switching from hastily typed words to a breathy voice in his ear.
she knows. it's why her hand dares to slip between their bodies, graze over his thigh until it can undo the button of his jeans, tug the zipper down to reveal the waistband of his briefs, taught against carved hip bones. the drag of fingernails beneath his navel makes him groan, his own hand giving her ass a squeeze as though it's the only thing he could possibly hold onto in this moment to steady himself.
he's surprised he can hear her question over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment at the sting of the waistband snapping against his skin. ) I want to be inside of you, ( comes his low reply through gritted teeth. with a steadying breath, his eyes blink open, gaze dark as it takes in the sight of her over his knee, the peek of rounded breasts beneath her cropped hoodie, the arch of her back, the lingering swell of red over her curved bottom. he feels as though he may burst, too much pent up inside of him. ) Do you think you deserve that, baby girl? ( another spank, this one no lighter, followed by a matching one to the other cheek, before his palm smooths over her skin again, massages slow and deep. another comment that sounds like a challenge, a dare: ) You tell me, since you're so damn mouthy.
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his admission rewards him with a breath of a mew, startled to a gasp as his palm strikes her again, one to each cheek—shoulder blades pinch together, crown tipping back to leave locks spilling over her spine, stolen for the moment at that heated lick of pain that runs through her. she’ll be sore tomorrow, there’s no denying it, and while she has an easy means of healing the abused area over, she just might enjoy feeling him every time she sits, like a lingering punishment. )
Someone deserves a reward for this, no? ( a huff of a reply while she gathers a steadier tone, unable to keep herself still against him, to keep from pressing against that pull of fabric, chasing any means of friction she can find whether she’s given body permission or not. a moan laces it’s way through pressed lips, left in a slight part. she’s not shy to drag the heart of her palm down further along his briefs, rubbing its heel along the line of him, thick and hard and all because of her. ) But I don’t think it matters. ‘Cause you need it.
( a daring grab of his cock through that cotton, dampened near the swell of his tip. ) Don’t you, cari?
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if he were, perhaps he'd wrap his free hand around her wrist, snatch it away and pin it against the bed, really give her a spanking for touching him without permission, for trying to take matters into her own hands when he's clearly the one in charge here. he'd bark some equally mouthy retort
his self-control levels are certainly not at an expert level. instead, he can only let out a sharp breath, tip his head back and let deft fingers curl around him, an agonizing layer of cotton between them, his cock twitching in response to her touch, precome leaking from the head. teeth catch his lower lip, suppress a moan, a desperate plea for more as though he's not the one in charge here.
— wait, but he is. rene's response isn't verbal, is merely the meeting of his sharp gaze with hers. fuck it.
there isn't a shred of gentleness with how he practically manhandles her yet again, scoops her up and drops her onto her back on the bed. nails drag against the soft skin at her hips as he yanks those dampened panties off of her, tossed to the floor somewhere, and he doesn't even have the patience to do anything more than gruffly pull his jeans and briefs down over his ass, crawl over her and guide his cock inside of her and it's —
fuck, she's so good, so wet because of him, warm and tight as she accommodates him, his hipbones pressed against her as she fully takes him, a moaned out, ) Fuck, mami —
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there wasn't anything between them that demanded they take their time, play up any set of morals or boundaries of respect—she'd been clear on her intentions upon her invitation, and so there isn't any guilt. any shame to the way she hastily makes purchase with nails at the lower of his back, slipping beneath the thick cotton of his own hoodie to clasp onto him as he grabs the base of his cock and aligns himself, fills and stretches her with a single, full stroke. )
Se siente rico— ( natural tongue finds her, words stumbling from her lips in a rushed pant, velveteen walls giving a gratified clasp around his width, trying desperately to adjust. a swallowed back whimper, giving him no choice but to aid her in tugging that upper layer of his up and off of his frame, revealing an array of scars amidst ridges of definition, marveling both of her palms appreciatively along each plane of his chest. another time she'd map them with her lips, a trace of fingertips, right now all she can think about is the way she practically pulses around him, finding his eyes in the dark of that bedroom with a kindred hunger.
thick, creamy canvas of her thighs find each side of him, using her calve against his bottom to give a last little pull of his hips, assuring he's jarred into her as far as possible. )
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his eyes practically roll into the back of his head with pleasure as she takes him to the hilt, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment while he just savors this feeling, this oh-so-prevalent feeling of satisfaction.
her voice is music to his ears, spilling past reddened lips, and his senses are far too overloaded to fight the tug of his sweatshirt over his head, left hanging somewhere on the edge of the bed — a godsend, considering the sheen of sweat coating his skin once it's gone. rene will do the same in time, surely, but for now, there are other matters at hand, pressing in a way that renders everything else unimportant.
slowly, slowly, rene arcs his hips backwards, cock sliding with ease from within her until only the head remains, and then he grinds back into her, fingers curling into the sheets on either side of isabelle's head. it's an agonizingly slow pace that he's setting, but he knows that it won't last long with how tight she is around him, how far she's driven him with her words and very little touch.
his face remains just above, lips a breath away from hers — hell, he can feel each and every pant that passes her lips, can practically taste the sound of her whimper — and he murmurs, voice strained, ) Tú bien, cariña?
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Si, papi— ( breathless- there's some part of her, dazed and distant that processes his words, eventually finds a means of putting thought to tongue and tongue to words when it can barely wrap itself around a breath that isn't ragged, too caught up in how good it felt—the way he stretches her out, how fluently he grinds his hips to hers to ensure he hits right to that sensitive spot at her limits, giving in to something she's needed for far too long.
one hand's raveled itself agains his forearm just beside her, some means to ground herself, a thin layer of sweat like dew left sheen across her temples, and when wide eyes flutter open again they're fixed to his, studying the way pleasure twitches at his mouth, lids at half mast.
crown tips in order to grab at his fuller lip, suck it gently between the plush of her own brims before giving him a taste of teeth, sharp and sweet in the bite that's left behind, and once more that competitive glint arises. ) More.
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it's now that he realizes that he hasn't just straight up kissed her yet, and that shit ain't gonna fly. no, his lips crash hard against hers, a little messy, definitely a little dirty, tongue licking into her mouth as his lips part against hers.
this doesn't deter the movement of his hips, grinding hard into her, burying his cock deep as he picks up his pace — more, all for her, the girl who has pushed him further than anyone ever has, and even still, he finds himself craving more.
rene leans his weight against her, skin against skin, a low moan against her painted lips as he hits just the right spot, dios — and he can't help the way his fingers, grabbing at the sheets below, catch some of her hair as they curl inward, tug as he tries to steady himself as he fucks her. ) Isabelle, ( he groans — there's no izzy, no mamí or other terms of endearment, just each syllable of her name carried past his lips like a prayer. )
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she doesn't have the discipline to keep from wanting him, needing him, hollow of her throat exposed as his fingers tangle within her locks just as they do those sheets, a flare of soft pain amidst the bundle of heat he coils beneath her navel each time he fucks into her. and he doesn't shy from giving her exactly what she'd asked for—mierda the way he rolls his hips to hers, licks into the cave of her mouth as if it were his own, how he's not afraid to challenge her for that control while simultaneously submitting to her.
it's the first time he's said her name, the first time she can put that lilt of an accent twined together with an equally intoxicating tone and she wants nothing more than to hear it again. it sobers her, tears her from that kitten-like mentality and layers a sincerity she hadn't expected in it's place, like an intimacy begging to let itself be shown if they weren't so collectively stubborn. he leaves her mouth all the more blushed as lips part, messy and interrupted, a bit of that tenderness slipping— ) That's good, baby-
( an admission that breaks to a pretty little whine, mouths stumbling together but not quite taking, too distracted by the way she winds her waist up to meet him now with each thrust, shivers at the way abdomens brush, slipping free hand up from that bed to ravel at the nape of his neck. she wants to keep him there, just there, nose to nose, swallowing each other's sounds and chasing each other's pace faster. )
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his breathing is shallow, heartbeat pounding in his ears as his hips thrust into her, picking up speed, 'cause damn, he just can't help himself when she feels this good, when she moans against his lips and calls him baby and tells him how good he's doing. he likes hearing her like that, voice thick with lust, words that seem to leave her of their own volition.
before he knows it, isabelle is grinding against him, finding that sweet, sweet rhythm of his hips and matches him move for move. that's enough to really make him moan, burying it in another messy kiss, greedy in the way his lips capture hers, the way his hips rock relentlessly against hers, the twisting of desire beneath his navel knotting so tightly he doesn't know how much longer he can take it. )
I'm real fucking close, ( rene breathes, chin tipped upwards so he can try to slow down how fucking lost in her he is, head practically spinning and coherent thought all but vanished. ) You tell me what you need to get there, baby girl, yeah? ( it feels like his words slip out in a jumble, but he's desperate to know, wants her to cling to him and her walls to tighten around him even more, wants her thighs to shake around him and her cry to carry through this whole damn apartment. )
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