“You want some dick, baby, you know goddamn well I’ll give it to you,” I tell her, caging her ass back against the wall of the bathroom she tried to hide from me in. “Not some other motherfucker, you hear me?”
Not Tags.
She looks at me then to the side, looking for an escape—something she’s not getting. Not this time. “King—” She starts to argue, but I shut that shit down as quick as it starts.
Samantha doesn’t want me in her life. Fine. Doesn’t want shit to do with me. Okay. But if she wants someone to fuck her, then her options are limited because the only one touching that body, getting inside of that body, is me. Even more so when she’s carrying my baby inside of her.
“I’m the only motherfucker, Samantha.”
“We’re in a fuckin’ bar,” she sneers, looking at the stall a few feet to our right when I tug the top of her dress down, exposing her tits.
“Jesus.”
“Just the King.”
“It’s kinda gross in here.”
Is it classy to fuck my pregnant baby mama in the bathroom at some sleazy bar in town? Fuck no. But I couldn’t give a fuck less. That body, that pussy are mine, and I’ll do what I want with them wherever the fuck I want.
“What’s your goddamn point?” I slip a hand up the short little dress she’s wearing, the dress that doesn’t hide the fact that she’s pregnant with my baby. “Lace,” I note, running my knuckles over the wet material of her panties. My dick’s so goddamn hard, it hurts. The bitch turns me inside out.
“King,” she moans when I pull her panties to the side and slip a finger inside of her wet cunt. The Princess’s head lulls, falling onto the arm I’ve got up against the wall for support. “We’re gonna do this in a bathroom?”
“Fuck yeah we are,” I tell her, capturing her soft lips in a kiss I can feel in my fucking balls. Samantha sucks on my tongue, riding my hand, and it’s the first time in a long goddamn time shit feels right—as wrong as it is.
“King,” She moans, biting my lip, her hand twisting in my cut, holding on to me. “King.”
Pulling my hand out of her panties, I turn her ass around and jerk her dress up around her hips. Freeing my cock from my jeans, I push her panties to the side again and drive home, going deep.
“Oh fuck,” she squeals, her pussy tightening.
“Put your hands on the wall, baby.” She does, and I slide one hand to her ass, squeezing the soft skin while I fuck her hard in a dirty bathroom in some shit bar in the slums. I don’t feel bad about it either. “This pussy is mine, yeah?”
She nods, leaning her head against the hands braced on the wall.
“You want some dick, you call me,” I tell her, thrusting into her from behind. Hard. “You need that pussy licked, you call me,” I add, reaching my other hand around and rubbing her clit. “You need any-fucking-thing, you fucking call me.”
“I’ll call you,” she moans, pushing back against me, begging me for more. “Only you.”
I don’t remember the last time something felt this fucking right in my life. I feel whole, as fucking stupid as it sounds.
“Only me,” I affirm, fucking her hard, her ass bouncing off me and her pussy sliding up and down my cock. It’s heaven. Maybe it’s hell. Either way. “You’re mine, baby.”
Samantha tightens, her head nodding and thighs shaking. “I’m yours,” she says, breathing hard. “Only yours.”
I know it’s the sex. The fact that I’m balls deep inside of her and she’s chasing an orgasm, but I take it. She’s mine. Always has been, and always will be.
“You gonna come, Princess?” I tease, slowing my thrusts.
“Yesss,” she groans, leaning back and reaching around, hooking my neck and pulling me against her back. “Please, don’t stop, King. Please.” She pushes her ass back against me, begging for me to go deeper.
I give her what she wants.
If she wasn’t already pregnant, I swear to fuck she would be now. Her pleading does it for me. I come so fucking hard, taking her with me, that I see stars.
The comedown comes quickly. A hard fucking crash. As soon as I pull out, watching the wetness run down her thigh, she’s fixing her dress, frowning at me. “That was a bad idea.”
“A bad idea was you out on the dance floor wearing this fucking dress.”
“We’re not together,” she snaps. I know it, but her words still cut fucking deep.
“I’m well fucking aware, Samantha. Still doesn’t mean I want to see you grinding your ass on Tags while carrying my baby.”
She looks down at her feet, ashamed. “You’re right.”
“I know I am.” Doesn’t feel good to be right; not this time anyway.