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“I fucking hate you,” Darcy snarled before smashing her lips against Johnnys.
He forces his tongue into her mouth and strokes against hers before he pulls back and responds, panting lightly. “Well, you aren’t exactly my favourite person either, short stuff.”
She glared but shuffled back, hand tangled in his shirt hauling him along with her, until her legs hit the bed. A quick turn and a shove had him sprawled on top of his duvet and she wastes no time stripping out of her tank top and leggings.
When she’s naked she crawls on top of him, batting his hands away when he tries to grip her waist and positions her dripping cunt over his face.
“Make me cum, make it good.”
Johnny only hesitates a second before he is pulling her down and burying his face in her wetness. His hands are so warm against her skin and his expert tongue dances against her sensitive flesh.
She holds tight to his head board and grinds against his face, electric sparks shooting up her spine and back down to curl low in her belly.
He might be suffocating, but as long as his tongue keeps working, she doesn’t give a damn.
Hands tight against her hips manage to lift her for a moment and cool air whips past her folds before he is pressing her down against him again.
Teeth nip at her clit, and of course it’s that little bit of pain that pushes her over the edge. She cums with a long drawn out shudder and bites her lip to keep the noises in.
She rolls over and off of him and lazily watches as Johnny stands and strips out of his clothes, still enjoying the afterglow.
A crinkle lets her know he’s opened a condom and then the bed dips as he climbs back in.
Darcy lets out a small ‘oof’ as Johnny manhandles her and lays her out on the bed how he wants her.
He grabs one of her legs and throws it over his shoulder before he stares down at her. His gaze is slow as he takes in the blush across her breasts and how wet her pussy is.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says almost conversationally, “and I’m going to make it hurt so good.”
The tip of his cock breaches her and she sucks in a breath at the stretch. She’s wet, soaked really, but still so tight.
“Cause that’s what you want, isn’t it Darcy. You want me to make you hurt, make you cum, make you forget everything.”
‘Oh, enough,” Darcy thinks before slapping a hand over his mouth and using her free leg to push on his ass, impaling herself on his cock.
“I didn’t come over to hear you talk,” she hisses.
Johnny licks her palm but starts fucking her hard and deep, just how she wants.
She can feel every inch of him as he pounds into her. The angle has him dragging the head of his cock over her g-spot each time and it’s starting to make her see stars.
His thumb goes to her clit and starts strumming it in just the way that he knows will get her off the quickest. The fact that he knows this, makes her want to scream.
She moves her hand from his mouth and tweaks one of his nipples, making him lose his rhythm, just like she knew it would. Maybe the fact that she knows his body so well makes him crazy too.
A half dozen more staccato thrusts, and his thumb doing truly evil things to her clit, have her falling over the edge again and this time she allows the moan to escape her mouth.
“Ah, fuck,” Johnny says and then is holding her tight to him as his cock jumps and pulses inside of her.
He quickly rolls off, history having taught him that if he dawdles, Darcy is more than likely to get pissed off at him. And while she’s currently angry it’s not actually at him.
When he turns back over from disposing of the condom, he freezes and Darcy knows it’s because she must look as broken as she feels.
Johnny tentatively pulls her against him, and Darcy goes, burying her face against his chest.
If she had any more tears in her, they’d be spilling out, but as it is, her eyes are just hot and achy.
Johnny's hand gently rubs down her back, usually a forbidden action, but Darcy allows it, just this once.
“I still hate you,” she mumbles against his skin.
“I know,” he murmurs back, “just not as much as you hate him right now.”
A feeling of guilt starts to build in her stomach. This is not what she wants to be feeling right now.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Shut up Lewis,” he tells her. “You won’t want it to, but the next time he breaks your heart, we both know you’ll end up back here, with me, the stand in.”