Angry Sex

by Sommer Marsden

  He was goading her. She knew it. He was pressing her in order to steady her nerves and sharpen her focus. It worked. A surge of rage heated her inside and as if by cue her pussy went wet and soft for him. And for herself. For release.

  “Watch it,” she said, pushing past the threshold. Her body grew rigid, first in confusion, thinking she had to be quiet because of Nick. Second, because she realized the house was empty and to her it was entirely unusual. Her shoulders sagged a little and she took a deep breath.

  “Come on, boss lady.” He’d caught the vibe—anger mixed with grief—she had no doubt.

  He pushed her forward with a firm but gentle hand and she stumbled some, forgetting her own damn tile inlays on the hardwood floor.

  “Hey!” Her voice was more sadness than anger.

  Her knees hit the sofa and she lost her balance, her legs buckling. Luna grabbed the back of the sofa and let out a growl. It surprised her. He hadn’t pushed her, he’d nudged her. He hadn’t put any force behind it but here she was falling and feeling stupid and yes…angry.

  There was a split second where she could have ignored it, but she didn’t. There was a heartbeat where she could have talked herself out of it, but she didn’t. Luna bunched her hand into a lazy fist and turned, swinging blindly at the hulk of a man in her living room. She let out another cry when she connected, a glancing but hard blow, off his broad chest. She was mortified that she’d given into her base urge to actually strike someone—especially someone who hadn’t really earned it, if you got right down to brass tacks. But the mortification was fleeting when he grabbed her fist and pulled her in, wrapping his free arm around her waist and staring her down.

  She blinked. Burbled with hysterical laughter.

  “Feel better?” His face was tight and unreadable. What felt like annoyance, rather than anger, baked off him in waves.

  “No,” she said, shocking them both by crying.

  He pushed her back and she stumbled again. This time her ass hit the sofa hard enough that she pretty much bounced right back up to standing. Luna barely heard Adam say, “Then do it again” when she blindly swung, this time hitting his shoulder.

  Oh fuck. Oh Jesus. What was wrong with her? This wasn’t Fight Club. This wasn’t a book, or a movie, or even a joke. She was hitting this man who had zero to do with her rage. And he was letting her.

  “Better?”

  She sobbed, nodding. “No.”

  “You’re nodding but you said no.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re just so full of it, aren’t you?” He stood there. A handsome, patient monolith who held all kind of secrets. At least it felt that way.

  “Full of what? Shit?” she stammered.

  His face broke into a fleeting smile. He chuckled. “No. Full of anger.”

  “Oh, that. Yes, that,” she said. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, and pushed her so her ass hit the sofa again.

  Luna screamed. She heard the noise burst out of her like a whistle from a teakettle. He laughed…at her. And then when he dropped to his knees, bringing them face to face, he said,

  “You are so fucking weak.”

  And that’s when she slapped him across the face. This blow was not glancing. This blow was not soft. This blow hit home with a satisfying whack and a wince on his good looking features.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Realizing she meant it. That had done it. Her body felt looser, her chest lighter, her soul not as dirty. And she could see her palm print coming up on his stubbled cheek and she felt so very horrified—but even that felt great.

  “Good,” he growled and then he yanked her pants down around her hips so hard her button popped off and rolled to the floor and the zipper growled as it tore and broke.

  She lifted her hips, arched her back, let him pull down her ruined pants and her white panties. He pulled her legs free of all the fabric but handled the panties for a moment. Just white cotton briefs. Fairly new. No big deal. Not sexy at all, she knew. Nothing to write home about.

  Heat and embarrassment stained her cheeks as he stared her down. Then he surprised her by stuffing them in his pocket and said, “Fodder for later. I love white.” She blinked, but only had a second to savor that stunned feeling. Only a moment, and then his mouth—incredibly hot and firm—touched down on her thigh. Adam kissed up to the top of her leg, around her flank until her skin erupted in goose bumps and she shivered. When he kissed her some more, moving his mouth slowly inward toward her inner thigh—toward that soft, tender skin that was so damn sensitive it made her tremble—her heart staggered in her chest, trying valiantly to withstand the shock of the moment. Of having him in her home, being half naked on the sofa…about to do what they were about to do.

  “Spread your legs, boss lady.”

  Her legs fell open and her fingers dove tentatively into his sandy colored hair. She threaded her fingers through the short, soft strands. The heat of his scalp bled into the palm of her hand and he made a small noise that almost made him seem vulnerable. She had no time to question it, because he found her nether lips with his tongue nudging the tip between her wet folds before finding her hard clit and working it roughly, so she gripped his hair a bit tighter.

  “There you go,” he whispered, chuckling. But all she could do was nod her head dumbly.

  She didn’t make him wait—or herself. Luna pushed her body up to meet his seeking mouth. She let her legs fall open a bit more and refused to feel self conscious about it—this was what they were doing. This was what they’d talked about. Sex. Just sex.

  His fingers pushed into her slowly. Adam took his good sweet time and stretched her at his own pace. His fingers invaded, thrust, pressed until she was lost between the sensation of his mouth and his fingers. His touch was all consuming, magical, dizzying.

  She came, her knees trying to close in on his head and shoulders but he held her thighs open with his elbows. Lips played over her pussy lips even as she shuddered and shook. He continued to lick and suck and torture her until every final blip and spasm had passed and then he was righting himself, his eyes damn near feral, as he worked his belt buckle. Luna surged forward, seeking the feel of him under her fingers. Her hands warred with his until he finally batted them way and lowered his zipper.

  “Behave,” Adam said.

  “I can’t.”

  Chapter Ten

  There was that pregnant pause—that loaded moment—where they stared each other down. Each silently telling the other that now was the time to back out if that was what they planned to do. Luna saw it in his eyes, that Adam had no intention of doing so. And neither did she. She proved the point by grabbing him by his muscular hips and pulling him in so that he slid into her fast and deep, his cock as thick as she’d imagined. As impressive and as capable.

  Waxing poetic about a cock. When have you ever done that…

  She silenced her internal taunts and thrust up to take him. Adam hovered over her, his fists buried on either side of her, shoved down into the sofa cushions, nearly creating a moat around her thighs. Her fingers climbed up his sides and she clutched him hard, loving the foreign feel of his skin under her hands, the warmth of him. Luna pressed her palm to his chest, feeling his galloping heart even as she rose up greedily to get him exactly where she needed him to be.

  Her cunt grew tighter with each thrust, the air grew thinner too. Her head was buzzy and light as the pleasure she felt held her tight and yanked her under a crushing wave of impending orgasm.

  Already wet, already slick, already sated not once, but twice, she expected it to be weaker. But it wasn’t. When she came, it was as powerful as an explosion deep in the center of her. Luna wrapped her legs around his middle and bit his shoulder hard enough to make him growl. The orgasm slammed her again, not letting go, but amping up. All her anger, all her rage, all her frustration rode out every wet spasm and she sighed softly when they finally stopped.

&n
bsp; He hadn’t come.

  “Hey, you—“

  He pulled free of her and shoved his hands under her hips. When he flipped her she yelped but then laughed. When Adam pushed his big hands under her hipbones and angled her for penetration, she wondered, dear God…could she? Would she? And when he slid into her, his cock slippery with her juices, she thought yes, she just might come again.

  He pushed her shoulders down and held her, driving into her so her hips bumped the cushions and her sofa squealed a little on the hardwood floor. He wasn’t wooing, or asking, or being soft, or worrying. He was taking her. He’d given her what she wanted and needed and now, he was taking. As this flashed through her mind, she felt the skin along her back pebble with goose flesh.

  Adam held her firm with one hand, looped the other around her waist before knifing his hand between her legs to press hard against her clit. “Come with me,” he demanded.

  “I came twice. I don’t know if I ca—“

  “You can. Come with me,” he said again.

  There was no room for argument. Luna felt the barely controlled need in his movements.

  His cock filled her and pressed her, making her gasp for air. Adam rotated his hips just enough to trigger all the happy nerve endings deep in her pussy. Her body spasmed fast, milked his cock hard enough to make him grunt, “Christ”.

  And then he was pushing her face to the cushion as he came. Using her to grab his pleasure and take it from her.

  Grab and take…grab and take…take…

  Another soft wave flowed through her as a small, weaker orgasm curled in her center.

  And then there was silence in the dark purple room. Dusk had come and the air had turned to shadow. “God,” she said.

  “Just Adam,” he joked and surprised her by dropping a chaste kiss on the middle of her back and then the nape of her neck. He pulled free and stood, leaving her there, catching her breath while on her knees, her upper body spread across the red couch cushion.

  When she turned to face him, he was zipping up, watching her with curiosity.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Are you offering me food?” He grinned.

  “I am.”

  “Then I am,” he echoed.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said and ran upstairs to find something to wear. Her black short kimono would have to do, with fresh panties and her crazy fucked up hair clipped up in a twist.

  She hurried back down to see him examining a line of photos of Nick and other family on the mantle.

  “Good looking kid.”

  “Thank you. He’s fifteen. And he knows everything.”

  Adam nodded. “As all fifteen-year-olds do,” he said and smiled at her.

  There was something in that smile. Something that hadn’t been there before, and she felt her stomach twist in a painful but pleasant way.

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I know, right?”

  “He’s why you’re so…” Adam didn’t finish the sentence but waved his hands around in a pantomime of worked up.

  “I have chicken. I can make chicken salad,” she said, walking past him. Luna had no interest in sharing her feelings right now. Maybe not ever. She just wanted the fucking to be what it was—recreational fucking.

  He followed her in. It felt strange and wonderful to feel a man’s presence in the house. A new man—when Ben came over it seemed almost normal, he’d lived there so long. But to hear the heavy footsteps of a big man as he followed her through the dining room was sort of surreal, but cool.

  “Ah, changing the subject are we?” He touched an old coffee sign made of pressed tin and then a wooden spoon angel that Nick had made her in the third grade.

  “No, I’m avoiding the topic seeing as I don’t want to talk about it,” she said softly.

  He laughed. “Touché.”

  She quickly washed her hands before pulling out some chopped celery. On the second shelf she found the leftover chicken meat. Luna dumped it all in a bowl and found some mayo that she loved. It came from local company that made small batch runs of stellar mayo. Two big spoonfuls and then she nodded to her corner cabinet. It was meant for dishes on display but Luna used it for her extensive spice collection. “Can you find me the Old Bay?” He opened the glass door and found the yellow tin. Handing it over, he brushed his fingers over hers briefly and she felt something akin to a mild electrical shock work through her.

  She dumped it into the chicken salad—Luna liked it spicy—she then shoved her hands into the mix and started squeezing.

  He stared open mouthed and then laughed. “Hunh. You’re a caterer, and I guess you know what you’re doing. I mean…I can’t say as I’ve ever seen anyone make chicken salad quite that way.”

  Luna winked at him, amused by his apparent shock. “My mother-in-law taught me this.

  She made the best chicken salad and when I pressed her, she explained that mixing it by hand got it the perfect consistency. And she’s right.” Luna brought up a ball of chicken salad the size of a soft ball. “It mixes the white meat and the dark and the spices and the mayo perfectly. Hell, you can serve it as sandwiches or spread for crackers. People go crazy for it.”

  “I believe it,” he said. She’d dropped the ball of chicken salad back into the bowl and he took her food coated hand and licked one finger and then another clean, sweeping his tongue slowly along her skin. “Really, really good.”

  Something in her throat tickled while something in her pussy clenched. And her heart did a nifty little two-step to boot. Luna cleared her throat and said, “Soft or toasted?”

  “Is that a drunk joke?” he asked.

  “Soft white bread or toast?” She washed her hands.

  “Soft white bread. But speaking of drunk, can I pour us a drink?”

  “There are bottles of wine in the pantry.” She nodded toward the small slatted door behind him. “Or beer in the basement fridge if you prefer.”

  “Wine’s good.”

  His presence was casual. It felt almost as if he belonged there and that threw her a bit.

  She ignored the thought while she used an old-fashioned ice cream scoop to measure out perfect servings of rich chicken salad onto their bread. Some kettle chips and a few of the tiny Polish dill pickles Nick loved so much and she was good.

  The cork popped and they both froze and smiled. Then Luna busied herself finding two wine glasses. The moment had felt all too normal and domesticated. “Bring it on,” she sighed and held out the glasses.

  Adam filled them more than half way and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Rough day?”

  “You were there,” she said, taking a hearty swig and then offering up her glass for a toast.

  “Not for all of it,” he reminded her.

  “True.” Another swig and she cut the sandwiches before laying the plates out on the breakfast bar and grabbing a stool. He took the other and stared her down, his face patient but demanding. He wanted to know. “So yes. Very rough day. My son went with his grandparents for the summer. I am freaking out. My dad called to ask me something and I panicked, and then he implied that my son’s biggest problem is not his health issue but me. Because I look down on him because he’s not normal.” She said it all in a frantic rush.

  “He actually said that?” Adam asked, biting into his sandwich.

  “Not in so many words, but that was the implication.” He said nothing, simply ate some more. Washing it down with swigs of cheap but good wine. Finally, after watching his dark blue eyes study her home, she couldn’t stand it.

  “So your anger…your rage…” She pushed a chip into her mouth due to the nerves she suddenly felt asking something personal. “Is it because of your job?”

  “Yes and no.” His voice was low. His knee pressed to hers beneath the breakfast bar.

  “Well? Is it yes, or is it no? Why do you need…an outlet? What spurs your angry sex?” She laughed softly, trying to keep it light.

  “Let’s just say I’ve lost someone,” he
said.

  “That’s it?” she asked, feeling a spark of anger.

  “For now.”

  * * * * *

  She assumed it was a relationship that had ended. That was what she figured. But who knew. Don’t speculate…

  Luna Skyped briefly with Nick and asked him about his day. He hung out with his friends, listened to music, walked down to the new donut shop.

  “All fresh,” he was saying. “I mean they make the dough right there. Drop it in, dress it how you want it.”

  She touched the screen, insisting quietly inside herself that she not act like an ass or cry or any of that stuff. “Sounds awesome.”

  “Cinnamon sugar, caramel and peanut, and wasabi powdered sugar,” he laughed, holding up three fingers.

  “Bleh! Nicky, wasabi powdered sugar!” But she laughed, and it was a real laugh. He looked very happy, if not full of donuts.

  “Ma, you have no idea. Really good. Hot and sweet. Plus…” He sniffed dramatically.

  “Really clears out the sinuses.” He turned his head to some sound she could not hear long distance. He said something to someone off screen and her stomach tumbled like it used to when she was a teenager and about to get caught.

  “Pop said—“

  “Hey, kiddo, I have to go,” she said fast. Guilt making her stomach heavy like it was lined with lead. “Someone’s at the door. You call me or text if you need me and I’ll try and Skype tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Mom—“

  He’d caught on to her. She could see the worry on his face and then that involuntary raising and dropping of the shoulder, once, twice, three times.

  “I love you, baby,” she said to him. The shadow of someone else darkened his bedroom door and she touched the screen briefly. He touched her back and then she cut the connection just as her father began to come into frame.

  Her hands shook and it felt like her insides were shaking along with them.

  “Great. Now you’re a coward too, Luna,” she said.