Two Crazy, One Wild

by Shaye Marlow

  He reached for my waistband, and almost managed to snag it before I twisted away. “Ah-ah-ah. You must answer the questions.”

  Zack growled after witnessing my bouncing retreat. I cupped my breasts, massaging myself. “C’mon, Zack,” I coaxed. “Don’t you want to see the rest of me?”

  “Damn you.” Shifting in his seat, he looked at the next question. His lips moved as he went over it again, his brows coming together in concentration. He was having difficulty with this one.

  His shoulders tensed as he spit out his answer: “Descent at 800 feet per minute.”

  I paused. “That’s… correct.”

  “Really?” he asked, looking up at me with hope in his eyes.

  “No.” I thumbed open the button on my fly, then pulled down my zipper, wondering how long it’d take him to notice.

  My pants dropped and he gaped at my legs. “But you said—”

  “I lied. 800 is correct.”

  “You—” Zack swallowed, eyes stuck to the scrap of lace between my thighs. “—you’re a terrible teacher.”

  “I disagree. I think the best way to get a student to learn is to find what motivates them. So tell me, Zack,” I said, bracing my hands on the tabletop. “Do you feel motivated?”

  He swallowed, staring at my breasts. Shook his head.

  “Hmm.” I straightened back up, then turned, showing him my back. “What about now?”

  His pencil clattered to the floor. “You’re wearing a thong.”

  “Yep. And, tell you what: Get another question right for me, and I’ll let you take it off.”

  His next guess was wrong, and I laid a red stripe across his shoulder. With a clear view of his crotch, I watched his cock jump, and smothered a grin.

  Next guess: Another stripe, other shoulder. This one curved around the meat of his deltoid, and I couldn’t help tracing it with one fingertip. I had the urge to follow my finger with my mouth, and so I did. I flicked my tongue across the mark, then bit him lightly.

  He was breathing hard, his whole body tense as I pulled back.

  His next answer was right, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead I waited, letting him anticipate another blow. The man was so tense he was trembling. The musky scent of his sweat rose to my nostrils. And… damn, but he smelled good.

  “Repeat that,” I whispered into his ear, even though I’d damn well heard him.

  He rattled off the set of coordinates, again.

  I let him stew a while longer, then brushed a kiss against his ear before I leaned back. “You’re right,” I said, stepping to his side.

  He heaved a sigh, then turned to face me. The hands he settled on my hips were big and callused, all heat and strength. He hooked his fingers into my waistband, taking his time.

  I watched him closely, watched his cock twitch. He had a nice one, large in both length and girth. A very, very nice one.

  Desire pulsed through me as he pulled the lace down, as my thong dragged down my legs, as his pupils betrayed just how much he wanted me.

  When my panties fell, I twirled my stick, then tossed it away. “You wanted a rewards system?”

  “Yes.” His long, blunt fingers traced a shivery path up my thigh.

  “Okay, then.” I boosted myself up onto the table. “Get a question right, and you get a kiss.”

  He looked at my lips.

  “Get a question wrong, and you give a kiss,” I continued. I squeezed my thighs together, absurdly turned on by our little game.

  His next answer was wrong. He didn’t even try.

  And then he’d lunged forward, and my laughter was muffled by his mouth. Zack didn’t just kiss. He dominated. He caged me against the table, pulled my head back by my hair, and devoured. It was sudden, and hot, and deep, and his strength made my blood boil. Even as I kissed him back, as our lips slid and teeth clicked and tongues dueled, I itched for that switch. I wanted to hit him again, to mark him.

  Finally, I pulled back. But as I did, I sank my teeth into his bottom lip, hanging on, letting them scrape every millimeter as I pushed him away.

  I could see in his eyes I confused him. Good.

  “Next question,” I said.

  He sat briefly back down, glanced at the page. “Yes. The answer’s yes,” he said, lunging for me.

  I caught him with a foot on his chest, holding him off. “I believe,” I purred, fully aware he could see my pussy, “that question requires a mean wind speed. In knots.”

  “20 knots,” he said, his hand sliding up my thigh.

  I caught it. “Try again.”

  I saw him think about overpowering me. He could do it, that we both knew. And I was teasing him, teasing him terribly. A thrill went through me, imagining how that would play out.

  Zack growled, and sat. He stared at the paper, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, obviously having trouble concentrating with all his blood thumping in his cock.

  I was so mean.

  “42 knots,” he finally said.

  Heat poured through me with the knowledge of what I was about to do. But first… “Direction?”

  “232 degrees.”

  “Very good,” I purred, and caught him as he started to rise. “Ah-ah-ah. Sit.”

  “But, you said—”

  “A kiss. I’d give you a kiss,” I said, licking my lips.

  Lowering himself slowly, he sat.

  “Turn your chair.” He did, without hesitation, and I took in the sight of his chest, his belly. Even sitting, he had a six pack. And a happy trail, just a shade lighter than his skin, that led down to that impressive cock. I’d seen a few penises, some even almost as large—but none as pretty. His was perfect, really. He could have been a penis model, if such things existed—and that fact was completely at odds with the rest of his body, which was rough, inked, scarred. Those scars said he’d been through worse than anything I could throw at him. Those scars… made me drip.

  I slid from the table and edged in close to him, nudging his knees until he let me between. He reached for me, claimed two big handfuls of my ass, and squeezed. His touch was rough, his fingers delving into places I didn’t let just anyone, and my nipples were so hard they hurt.

  He made a sound of protest as I pushed his arms, forcing his hands away. But, he shut up when I dropped to my knees.

  When I finally kissed him, it was just a buss of my lips against the round, smooth crown. Then, hiding my smile, I waited.

  “Frances,” he said, his voice ragged and pleading, his hands in needy fists. “You can’t—”

  Only then did I take him in. It required opening wide, and I didn’t manage to get all of him—not at this angle, and possibly never with this cock—but I sucked him deep into the cavern of my mouth, savoring the thick intrusion, the way he throbbed as he made a strangled noise, the taste of his precum as I pulled back a bit and explored the tip with my tongue.

  Sucking him was decadent, a sensory delight. The full, fat curves of the head, the way he lost his breath when I tongued the slit at the top. The slickness that gave way to the slightly rougher skin of his shaft. The bulge of veins… Even the musky smell of him was seductive.

  I pleasured him till he was groaning, then abruptly let off. I pushed to my feet, stumbling slightly before catching myself against the table. “Next question,” I said. I was breathing almost as hard as he was, but I was sure my lips were redder.

  “Frances,” he said, and reached for me. “Please…”

  That word was nearly my kryptonite. Putting a little space between us helped tame my rampant urges. Okay, not really; they were still definitely there, the evidence the full slickness between my thighs—but at a distance, I couldn’t grab him, nor he, me. “Next question,” I said, keeping my words clipped. I circled his table, keeping my distance, letting him see what he was missing with every moment he delayed giving me an answer.

  With a piteous sound, he turned back to the textbook. He had trouble even finding the right question, and then he stared hard at it for
long moments. His fingers tapped on the tabletop, counting, but then he shook his head. He mumbled to himself, counted again, and then guessed. “Nine?”

  Wrong. But instead of saying it, I trailed my hand across his shoulders before once more kneeling between his thighs. His cock bobbed as I licked him from base to tip. Another hint of salt, and then I took him into my mouth, moaning at how good it felt.

  I sucked him firmly, stroking what I couldn’t reach by hand. I scraped my nails over his flexing abs, then cupped his balls.

  I’d tell him later that answer had been wrong. Much later…

  I was being selfish, taking what I wanted. But I thought, just maybe, he didn’t mind.

  He cupped the back of my head, while his other hand gripped the table so hard the wood creaked. But that hand on me remained gentle, his fingers sliding through my hair as he made suggestions. He didn’t force me, but he was strong enough to. That thought, for reasons I refused to analyze, made me wetter. I wanted to see that, see Zack completely lose control. I bet that’d leave a mark…

  I sucked him greedily as my pussy pulsed in time to the thundering in my chest.

  Zack was talking, his words a strained jumble, but “good” and my name seemed to be the stars. His breath became ragged bursts, and his words of praise were punctuated by filth that made me even hotter. I’d made men make all sorts of sounds, but none of their words had fallen on my ears with even half so much impact.

  Which meant, Zack was dangerous.

  At the moment, I didn’t care. I was surrounded by him, he was inside me, and—

  He suddenly gripped my jaw and freed himself. “Actually,” he said, “that answer was wrong.”

  I shook my head, reaching for him. His erection, shiny with my saliva, jerked as though it wanted to meet me halfway. But Zack caught me by the shoulders, holding me off. When I fought him, he gave me a little push, setting me back on my heels.

  Staring up into his eyes, my whole body roared to attention. Power was changing hands. Zack was taking it… but not without a fight. The knowledge that we were about to butt heads only made me hotter.

  He leaned in, eyes narrowed on my mouth. “My turn,” he murmured. He said it right against my lips, and I let my eyes close, prepared for his kiss. His fingers slid into my hair, gripping, pulling my head back, exposing my neck.

  I shivered, ready for him to devour me. Welcoming his assault.

  It never came. When I opened my eyes, he was studying me. Making me wait.

  I should’ve pulled away, should’ve showed him he didn’t hold any sway over me. The problem with that was that he did. I tried to close the distance between us, needing him.

  He restrained me. I dug my nails into his knees, communicating my displeasure.

  His face softened slightly, and again he leaned in. My pussy throbbed, and every fiber of my being strained toward him.

  And still he didn’t touch me.

  “Damn you.” I pushed at his knees, not liking this game after all.

  He countered by pulling, and when I suddenly reversed my efforts, I was able to steal a kiss. Laughing with triumph, I used his surprise to slip his grip.

  Silly me, what I hadn’t considered was how long I’d been on my knees. My lower legs had fallen asleep, and instead of leaping away like a gazelle, I sort of glopped to one side.

  Zack made a grab for me, yanking me the other direction. He whacked his head on the table’s edge, his chair squeaked as he fell off it, and suddenly we were wrestling under the table.

  I couldn’t help my shrieking giggle. The linoleum was cool against my skin, his rough hands firm and grabbing. Chairs rattled as I pulled at them, seeking leverage.

  Zack was behind me, his grip catching at my hips. He rolled onto me, quelling my struggles. In this position, my breasts were flattened to the floor, I could barely breathe, and then, he bit my neck.

  Shivers raced down my body, which arched wantonly against him, settling me into the cradle formed by his hips and thighs. His erection was there, riding against my ass. His breath came fast as he rocked a slow, powerful thrust against my backside.

  “Zack,” I moaned, grip tightening on the two chair legs I held.

  He leaned to one side, tugged my knee up, and then his fingers were delving, finding. I trembled, making wild sounds as his fingertips slid into my wetness, spreading me. He made a satisfied sound, then lifted off.

  It took me a moment to realize he’d all but released me as he hooked an arm over the table, groping for a condom. Must’ve thought I was thoroughly subdued, and would await his pleasure. Ha! I scrambled away.

  Have you ever had linoleum burn on your breasts? No? Well, it sucks.

  I squeaked as he yanked me back to him. And he must’ve been some sort of condom-donning savant, because it was in place as he jammed the head of his cock against me. He did it with an irresistible authority, pushed into me, thick and unlubricated, and it hurt just a little. The hint of pain burned fire through my veins.

  I strained back against him, taking more. He pulled at my hips, angling them up as he pushed forward, burrowing to the root. I made a helpless sound somewhere between pleasure and protest.

  His head knocked against one of the chairs, and he shoved it away. The chair went flying across the kitchen to crack against the cabinets. His body heaved over mine, each breath rocking him into me. My flesh strained around his, throbbed with need. I reached back, clawed at his hip, needing him.

  He slid back a couple inches—both a relief, and completely unacceptable. He was too big, but I needed him—and when he thrust back into me, he was still too big, but I needed him more. Again and again, he did it, and each thrust was harder, yet easier.

  My thighs tingled with arousal, craving the scrape of the sparse hairs on his. He curled a hand over my shoulder to hold me still as he worked himself into me. I pushed up into his thrusts until, with an impatient sound, he lifted me almost onto my knees.

  Almost, but not quite. My thighs strained open, and he was between them now, his balls slapping my clit. I tried to shift more upright, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept me off balance, probably enjoying the wild sounds I’d begun to make.

  He was turning my mind to mush. I was on fire, couldn’t think. Everything pounded and rushed with every beat of my heart. My world had narrowed to a darkened strip of linoleum, and even that had lost importance. I was a fishing village, and his cock was my tide.

  Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted. I scrambled for purchase with my knees, thinking he was finally letting me in the fight.

  But no. He lifted me entirely, and I have no idea how he got us out from under the table. I just know I moaned when he wedged so deeply, I practically felt him in my throat. He got us upright, and with me still pinned to his front, walked us across the kitchen.

  I mumbled a question.

  “Lube,” he said, voice clipped.

  “But I don’t need…” Couldn’t he tell how wet I was? My thighs were smeared with my excitement. His thrusts, before he’d so rudely stopped, had been making wet smacking sounds.

  I gasped as he swept the contents of the counter aside.

  “For this, you will,” he said, and his hand and wrist came into view. He turned the spigot, and lube poured into his hand. He gathered a handful, and then lube poured onto the counter when he didn’t shut it off.

  “Heathen,” I muttered, hastily turning the handle. The puddle of lube was a good foot in diameter and creeping toward me. I giggled as my hand slid across the counter.

  Zack poured the lube over my ass. It ran between my cheeks, between us, and dribbled down my thighs. It wasn’t until his fingers delved in my slippery crack and pressed against the pucker of my anus, though, that I got the first inkling of what he planned.

  He planted a hand on my back, pressing me down when I tried to straighten. “You’re supposed to ask,” I mumbled, distracted by the way that puddle wetted my breast. My legs trembled with the effort of holding mysel
f on tiptoe, yet I couldn’t have lowered myself if I tried.

  His thumb rubbed, slipping, pressing, softening me. “Ask?”

  “Ask me if it’s okay. Ask me if I’ve done it before, ask me if I liked it.” I stiffened, gasping as the tip of his thumb gained entrance. I was tight around him, the intrusion holding the promise of discomfort. Anything the size of his cock—oh, yes. But I didn’t know if that’s where he was going with this, and the uncertainty made me antsy. My body was a mass of tingles radiating out from the holes he’d claimed.

  He worked his thumb in and out until I relaxed into it. Then he leaned over me, and I could feel his cock throbbing. “Have you done it before?” he rumbled into my ear.

  Oh, shit. That was where he was going with this. “Yes,” I whimpered, pressing back onto his cock, his thumb.

  “Did you like it?”

  I nodded frantically, biting my lip, on fire with expectation.

  “I’m not going to ask for permission,” Zack said, making me squeeze around him. My bottom was stinging again, and I could only guess he was stretching me.

  My pussy was still crammed full—until he withdrew. My body tightened, thinking—but he slid slowly, smoothly back into me, stopping just short of bottoming out. He did it again, each motion slick and easy, and it was good, but not nearly enough.

  Maddened, I braced my hands against the wall and thrust back against him, and for a few glorious seconds, I had him, all of him, pressed into me, his warmth tight against my back. He got another handful of lube, and I groaned as I lost him again. Cursing, I fumbled to close the spigot. The puddle had claimed both breasts now.

  He dumped the lube on me carelessly. It pooled in the divot of my lower back and ran around the curve of my waist even as it eased the bite of whatever forbidden things Zack was doing with his fingers.

  Then, suddenly, it was his cock pressing against my aching hole.

  “Zack, it’s been a long time. I don’t think…”

  He slid upward, gathered more lube, and then slid back to that vulnerable spot.

  I had a decision to make. Put my foot down, tell him no… or help him, and give us both what we wanted.