“You sound surprised,” she commented, bringing her legs back together and then slowly fanning them apart again. His eyes followed the motion; he loved her legs.
“Three hours ago you were telling me you hated me. I was prepared to sleep alone tonight,” Jameson explained.
“Tsk tsk, silly man. Just because I hate you doesn't mean I don't want to fuck you,” Tate replied. He smirked at her.
“Someone is very angry,” he said. She nodded and rolled onto her stomach, driving her knees in to the mattress and using her legs to pull her body back so she was sitting upright – classic stripper move. He wasn't immune to it, she could tell interesting things were starting to happen underneath his towel.
“Yes. I won your little game, I stayed. I want my payment,” she informed him, sliding her legs out from underneath her and moving to the edge of the bed.
“And what exactly do you want? Maybe I don't feel like paying,” was his retort. Tate laughed and stood up.
“Oh, you'll pay,” she chuckled, walking over to the wall to her right. She pressed her back against it, stretched her arms out along the wall.
“What's going through your head, baby girl?” Jameson asked in a quiet voice, walking towards her.
“I want you to fuck me, right here. Against this wall. As hard as you can,” she told him.
“Seems like I'm winning on this deal.”
Tate lifted a leg, stretching it out, touching his washboard stomach with the heel of the expensive shoe he had bought for her. Dug in to his skin a little, hoping for blood. He grabbed her ankle, held it against his hip.
“I want you to call me every filthy name you can think of. I want you fuck me like you absolutely hate me,” Tate whispered. His eyes narrowed.
“Sounds like my kind of game What's the catch?” he asked.
“We can't move from this spot. This wall. I want you to pound me through this wall,” she explained. He dropped her leg.
“Who is on the other side of that wall? Ellie and Robert? Very clever, baby girl. Very obscene,” his voice was low as well.
“That's what I was going for. I won't be quiet,” she warned him.
“Is this really what you want to do?” he double checked. His hesitancy annoyed her. She arched her back, pushing her hips away from the wall, and sighed. She let her eyes slide away from his, as if she were tired of their conversation.
“If you don't want to, it's fine. I'm sure I can find someone else to play with; Robert was very keen a moment ago,” she said in a bored voice. Jameson's eyebrows shot up. Now she had his attention.
“Oh really? I saw the way he was looking at you. What did he say?” Jameson asked, stepping closer to her. She shrugged.
“Stuff. Things. Since I have a thing for Ellie's sloppy seconds, basically, why not give him a try. What a good fuck I must be. What a tease I am for not showing him,” Tate replied nonchalantly. Jameson was now pressed against her.
“Would you show him?” he asked, his hands pressing against her ribs and then sliding around to her back. She chuckled.
“If I could tie Ellie down and make her watch, maybe,” she replied.
“Kinky. Can I watch, too?” he asked, unhooking her bra and sliding it down her arms.
“I don't think so. You haven't been very good to me lately,” she pointed out. He laughed, pulling the towel away from his hips.
“Baby girl, I am always good to you,” Jameson countered.
“That's a matter of opinion.”
“And your opinion doesn't matter.”
And then it was like a switch. He ripped her panties away – the expensive ones he had bought for her – and grabbed her ass, forcing her legs around his waist, forcing his way inside of her. She cried out and slapped her hands against the wall above her head. She was going to put on a performance that Robert and Ellie would never forget.
It was almost comical at first – it was like being in one of Ang's pornos. She said things she normally never said, things she laughed at when other people said them – “You fuck me so good, oh my god, your dick's so big, oh yeah, harder, slower, right there, you're amazing.” And of course his name, over and over again. Couldn't let them forget who she was doing this with, after all. She even heard Jameson laugh at one point.
But as his thrusts got harder, the game melted away. She groaned and screamed for real, pounding one hand against the wall. Picture frames fell down. Books came off a shelf. There was a mirror across from them, and seeing their reflection, watching his muscled back and strong legs tense up, his hips moving against her so hard, it was practically her undoing. They hadn't even been standing there that long, and she was already coming like a freight train.
He didn't slow down at all. If anything, he pounded even harder. All his weight was pressing her in to the wall, one hand digging in to her ass and the other gripping her breast painfully. He pressed his face against the side of hers, growling at her through clenched teeth. Called her every filthy name she'd ever heard of, and a couple new ones. She was surprised, though, that he stuck to just names. Usually he liked to really degrade her, say horrible, horrible things about her, but not that night.
After what seemed like forever and two more orgasms for her, he literally dropped her to the floor and loudly told her to suck his cock. While she did so, he braced himself against the wall, beating his fist against it when she nipped at particularly tender areas. When he finally came, he announced it to the whole house, holding her head in place by her hair, pulling at the roots.