"Oh, so now you're leaving?" I glared at him and kept packing.
"I'm talking to you."
"Yeah, well don't. I don't have anything to say to you."
"Alright, well go ahead then. Don't 'accidentally' leave with any of my stuff either. Matter of fact, lemme help you move this along quicker."
I watched him walk over to the closet out of the corner of my eye and start pulling my stuff off of hangers; the red dress I had worn to the gallery opening, the t-shirt I had worn to the first game we went to, the jeans that made him slide his hands into the back pockets as he held me. My anger renewed, I spat the words at him like tobacco.
"Don't touch my shit. I don't want any of your raggedy ass clothes anyway. I can pack my own things without your help."
"Oh? So were they raggedy when you were laying in them the other day or are they just raggedy all of a sudden?"
"Get out of my face."
He walked out of the room and I could hear the shuffle of his house shoes across the tile. The sound they made told me that he was just as angry as I was and I couldn't care less. 15 minutes, 1 suitcase and 2 duffle bags later I shuffled to the door with the collection of things that had accumulated in his apartment after months of back and forth travel. I made sure to not leave a single thing behind, I was NEVER coming back here again and the last thing he'd ever hear from me was "Bye" as I walked out the door. My heart beat faster the closer I got to the living room and when I rounded the corner I lost balance of the bags while dragging the suitcase. The weight jerked me to my left and I recovered before I had the chance to topple over. A momentary look of concern crossed his face and we both caught it and cursed it silently at the same time. I set the suitcase down "accidentally" on my foot and yelped. As expected he came over immediately, "You ok? Let me see." My body had already started to heat up but I played the part regardless.
"Stop being stubborn and just let me look at it."
"Really, I'm fine."
"Lemme check it out and then I'll help you take the bags outside."
I half walked/half limped over to the couch and sat down trying to play annoyed. I lifted my foot into his lap as I had so many times before after a long day atop my favorite heels.
"Where does it hurt?" His eyes were piercing me again but this time there was a lusty tinge behind them and he was caressing my entire foot. It's not the kind of touch that would soothe any real pain and I can tell he's thinking exactly what I am.
"Does it hurt here?" He rubs a small spot on the top of my foot and looks at me. I shake my head no.
"Is it here?" The kiss lands on another small spot on the top of my foot.
"What about here?" He kisses my ankle and I say "No, on the other side"
Gently lifting my right leg over his head, he kisses my ankle before resting my leg on his left shoulder. My skirt rests between my legs and his hands begin to caress my thighs. I look everywhere but at him, I'm not giving into this; I'm leaving him. I don't want to argue anymore…mmm…I don't want to fight any…mmm…more. His kisses are purposely wet against my legs and along my inner thigh.
"Tell me where it hurts baby." His accent swims in between my ears and the Southern drawl off his lips awakens my flower.
"It hurts up here…" I tap my chest and stare him dead in the eyes. Like a surgeon responding to coding he quickly and methodically unbuttons my blouse and plants kisses like sutures along my chest. He kisses away the sliver of hurt from this argument and it's causing dew to form on my flower. His tongue circles my nipples and my body purrs in approval. His kisses climb to my lips and he uses his tongue to swab the inside of ny mouth in search of the love he tasted on my lips last night. His moan gets lost in the cavern of my throat when he finds it and for a moment I'm unable to tell whose tongue is whose.
He breaks the kiss and kneels between my legs so he can pull off his shirt. My nipples protrude through my blouse and my eyes ask him not to stop just yet. Kneeling on the floor and without a moment of hesitation, he licks his way through an apology. The sorrier he is, the wetter I become; I was still leaving but this was proving to be one helluva goodbye. As though he had read my mind he stopped suddenly and pulled out his hardness, I gasped at the sight of it as though I had forgotten how thick it was. "How you want it?" I eagerly rise to my knees and lean over the arm of the couch bent over and wide open in front of him. His grip was tight and strong on my waist and I looked at my bags at the door waiting to be taken to the car.
"This doesn't change anything. I'm still leaving."
I fought to stay angry, the more upset I was the more he'd try to ease the tension.
"You really gonna go?" he parted the petals of my flower and slid into me as the 'o' left his lips and my flower murmured a welcome in response.
"This isn't working. I hate fighting with you, it doesn't feel good."
"I know baby. It doesn't feel as good as this does."
His thrusts were deep and deliberate and every stroke makes my back arch and lets him deeper and deeper inside of me until he finally hits my g-spot and I immediately start to get wetter. I start grinding my hips against him and he braces himself with his left hand on my shoulder and right hand on my hip. I push myself harder against him and he pulls me in harder; my pussy tightening around his dick with every hit of that spot.
Sensing that I am weakening, he challenges me to tell him again that it's over and I'm leaving; I moan and he hits the spot hard and asks me again to tell him that I'm leaving. Between moans I tell him that it's over and I'm leaving, every word that leaves my lips is answered with a harder thrust. My hips quiver against him and we both feel my resolve fading. Seeing my moment of weakness he takes his hand off of my shoulder, grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back.
"You leaving this dick?" the words awaken the barely still waters inside of me and the sound of him thrusting in and out of me could rival waves breaking a shoreline.
"No Daddy" I can't resist it any further and I'm ready to grovel and beg him to take me back despite never even leaving.
"If you want to leave I won't hold you back." He's talking that shit that he always does when he know that I would do anything to keep him inside of me.
"No Daddy. I don't want to go." His hand makes a cracking sound when it connects with my ass and goes from my clenching my hair to grasping my throat.
"Are you sure?" The thrusts are speeding up and I'm keeping in time with his silent command
"Yes Daddy. I need you." The cracking sound comes again,
"Good girl. Whose pussy is it baby?"
"This is Big Daddy's pussy." The thrusts are faster and harder and my body begins to shake uncontrollably. My juices run down my legs and I moan at an octave I didn't even know I could reach. He pulls out and instructs me to sit on the edge of the couch.
"Please feed me Daddy." I stick my tongue out and beckon his dick to my face with it. Without a moment of hesitation, he grabs the hair on either side of my head and thrusts his dick deep down my throat until I make a gagging sound.
"I can't let you leave, you know I need you."
I lap him up with my tongue and massage his balls with my hands. They're covered in my wetness from earlier and I only take him out of my mouth to lick and suck on them until the taste of me that once coated them is all over my tongue. As I feel his body relax I take him back into my mouth and pull his body faster towards me. He fucks my face like there's another g-spot at the back of my throat and I know he's mine when he holds onto my shoulders to keep from toppling over.
His warm cream trickles down my throat and I swallow and suck at the same time until he can barely stand, I have to remind him that he's not the only one that hands out pleasure in this house. With every drop of him devoured, he collapses onto the couch and pulls me into his chest. He kisses my forehead and caresses my ass before whispering to me "You know I love you." I smile and let out a barely audible "I know". My mind flashes a quick thought just before we drift off into a pleasure-induced coma; I'll have to find something else to argue about tomorrow.