Runner's High
Chapter Nine, Two Enter the Battlefield...
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His hand is on the small of her back as they make their way towards the nearest Love Hotel.
It's a heavily charged gesture that burdens her with its complexity. She feels secure. She feels like his captive.
The moment they step through the rented room, she eyes the decor and design, surmising what was soon to become their battlefield.
That same comforting yet belittling hand undid her hair clip and slipped it inside her jacket pocket. His right arm circled her waist as his left hand snaked through her hair. Her roots stood on end, her sensitive skin tingling as he fisted her hair and angled her head aside, his hot mouth seeking her neck. Her face contorted, eyes fixed to the ceiling, lips pressed tightly together.
Heartbeat, breath and mind dance away at the brusque insistence of him, tongue and teeth and coarse, rough fingers; they shush her as he desperately unbuttons the top half of her blouse. He delves beneath the page of her blouse and gathers her flesh in his palm.
This is mine , he communicates, and she mutes her reactions in the center of her ribs.
White-hot electricity singes the tip of her nipple to the base of her breast, and to her chagrin, she hums.
Her neck is slicked in his spit. Heated marks dully brand the curve that slopes down to her shoulder, and her first thought is to take a shower.
He leads her pale abundance by the hand to the opening of her blouse, spilling her breast in a manner both obscene and utterly natural, as if she were about to breastfeed. But she has no milk to give, and the only milk that he wants, as he paws and squeezes, is her skin.
He startles her with the firm poke of his erection against her ass. He's trying to make love to her right here.
Like this.
Again.
His desperation seeps into her bones and frays her nerves and her lower body clenches in lurid recognition.
Make love to me for real.
No sullied clothes.
No artless quickies.
But she remembers herself.
She doesn't love him, and this is still war.
He growls in satisfaction, and her heart quickens when he leads them to bed, her head still leashed in his hand. It doesn't hurt. He's not pulling. And she doesn't test him by resisting.
Her breath abandons her as he bends her over the bed, face pressed against the comforter, and he's palming her ass, mapping the contours like unclaimed land.
The carpet digs into her knees.
Cool air soothes her feet as he works off her pumps and carelessly chucks them towards the door.
His sneaky hand slips under her skirt and he tests her with a poke of his fingers.
She flinches. Her pussy weeps and aches for attention. But she steels herself and her heart.
He unzips her skirt and tugs it down to her knees.
His fingers hook in the crotch of her pantyhose and her breath stills.
She's not surprised when he rips the inseam, the scratching sound of a thousand broken fibers echoing in her mind, like the ominous fall of her vanguard.
His pants shuffle off his hips. A heated exhale announces his anticipation as his turgid heat brushes against her ass.
Fall back!
She feels like a partially pared peach about to be split.
His cock nudges her panties away, their slickness reuniting them in a deep kiss, like two lovers overcoming months of separation, and there's nothing she can do about her position.
She's a prisoner beneath his body.
She gasps as he sinks his full length inside her and her voiceless moan stutters in her throat.
The way her heart rejoices as her body welcomes him back, it's way too intense.
He told her four days ago that her pussy felt like home.
She distantly wonders if this is what he meant.
She's not going anywhere.
It's the phrase his heart chants as he works into her, stirring her up and wetting his groin with her confession.
She loves this.
She's keeping quiet but she loves this.
The fierce smacking of his hips against her rippling, juicy ass is like steroids for his ego. Her petite, shapely form pinned beneath him, like he's been pushed into a weed den and now he's high as fuck.
His entire existence is just this; it's the tip of his dick and the ache in his balls. It's the adoration swimming in his veins, keeping his member swole.
It's her pillowy softness made to be sunk into and squeezed. It's her paradoxical nature, the way she takes the edge off but nudges him ever closer to blissful insanity.
It's the need to become telepathic, supernaturally empathic, to make her feel the way she makes him feel, to be wholly overwhelmed by perfect communication.
But even so, there are times you gotta use your words.
Because in those times, maybe you're still fucking pissed about being ignored!
Smack!
And abandoned at your shared place!
Smack!
And that you're now out nearly two-grand!
Smack!
And you just gotta drive!
S mack!
Home!
Smack!
That!
Smack!
Point!
He growls at the beautiful way her milky snatch responds to him. He folds himself over her, propping himself up on his elbow, and he purrs in her ear in a low tone.
"Gonna give you a week's worth of punishment, so you better look forward to it," he tugs her hair back. Her chest raises from the bed and her spine bows to relieve the pressure in her scalp. "We're going to do everything I've been wanting to do,"
He zeroes in on her hastened breathing. His cock throbs with vindication, and the sticky, schlupping sound that fills the room is the filthiest aphrodisiac. "I want a tit-fuck, I want to face-fuck, and I want to torture your clit with a vib-" the trembling of her shoulders evolves into full laughter, and his body forgot its purpose, his mind so swept up in humiliation. "What?!"
She attempted to turn her head enough that their eyes could meet. "Do you want a trip to the candy store, too?"
Heat rushed up his neck and sat in his face, his clenched teeth miserably bared. He stared her down with an indignant pout, his right hand palming her right cheek.
Smack!
She winced and flinched slightly from the impromptu spanking, and he didn't give her a chance to respond as he resumed working his hips into her.
Releasing her hair, he gathered her in his arms, hands forcing her buttoned jacket down her shoulders, keeping her arms pinned to her sides.
He could feel her stifled sounds catching in her ribcage like a dozen butterflies and he breathlessly laughed to himself.
"C'mon and moan for me, Hinata."
She scoffed lightly, but it was drenched in sexual satisfaction, negating her sarcasm.
"Using my first name so freely. We are not that close, Uzumaki-kun."
A mischievous grin split his face as he leaned in close to her ear again.
"Hinata, Hinata," he groaned and exhaled, and when her walls tightened around him, his grin stretched wider. "Ah, yeah, see? You like that. You like that intimacy, Hinata. Mmm, see? Is it the sound of my voice? Or do you just love knowing how good you make me feel? Fuuuck. It's like I never wanna cum but I wanna cum in you endlessly , y'know?"
"As expected of… mm… an irresponsible… mm person like you… AHH!" she shrieked when he strummed her clit. She turned into a trembling mess in his arms as a small orgasm rocked her, and his ego swelled.
His jaw hung slack as his breath sawed in and out of his chest. The delicious tension was winding up so tight that it was all he knew, save for the euphoria promised to him. It was always within reach, his fingertips dipping into its warm waters but never quite able to submerge himself in it.
He palmed her breast and kissed her neck.
He hummed her name and nipped his thanks when her pussy walls clenched down on him.
And he's climbing now, he's climbing, he's going to come, he's going to reach that zenith, spill his seed deep inside her, and the shaky, staccato of his moans signals his coming, his cock spasms inside her, his hips rut desperately to give her every last drop… and he's finally spent.
He nuzzles contentedly against her hair and neck, soaking in her natural scent which has grown stronger with her sweat. It's comforting because it makes him think of the park and the workouts they've done together. Beneath the soft spice and deep creaminess of her faded perfume, she smells like a misty morning, like hot ceylon milk tea, like dried lavender pressed between old books.
She smells beautiful.
"Are you done already?" her soft, tired voice doesn't match her sass, and his brow lowers to his crinkled nose.
"I got the stam' of ten, and you know it."
She hums a dubious tune and his heart drops a little.
"Maybe not after all the excessive masturbation you've been doing? That's not healthy."
His ears warm as he pouts. "And whose fault is that! You were supposed to sext me back!"
She plants her heels in the carpet and nudges him away. He loosens his grip, and she extricates herself from him, his semi-soft member slipping out as she stumbles for the bed. She's shrugging out of her jacket and his gaze is hypnotized by the jiggle of her bare breast. He licks his lips as his member thickens at her disheveled office lady look, and the fact that she doesn't look nearly disheveled enough.
"You have no appreciation for my time," her blouse slides off her shoulders. "My situation," and she kicks off her skirt. "It's all about you," her bra comes undone. "You," she's sliding down her wrecked panythose and panties. "You," and she's staring him down with her palms planted on the bed and her leg crossed over her other. She looks like a legit boss lady. A super hot, fuckable boss lady.
He's rock solid again and he doesn't even register what she was complaining about.
He's tearing himself out of his clothes, but when he's naked, she's seated on the far end of the bed, craning over the side as she browses through the nightstand drawer.
His eyes widen as she draws out a curved purple dildo with semi-realistic texture and she slides her palm along its shape.
"Hmm… not as big as you, is it?"
His dick twitches, attraction and indignance swelling inside his chest.
"Yeah, so why you playing with it? I've got all you need right here, Hinata."
She slouches down on the bed, the silicone tip directed at her slit and she holds him with a stare. "But it comes with less attitude."
Naruto clambered clumsily onto the bed with a maddened urgency like his pride was on the line. He climbed on top of her. He snaked his hand around the silicone toy and chucked it aside. He then cupped her face and drew his lips to his like a dying man in need of water and he drank her in deep.
His tongue pushed through plush lips and straight teeth to be with her, and he could taste a particular tangy sweetness on her.
Cream cheese frosting.
He shuddered when her cool fingers grazed the curve of his jaw before rooting themselves in his shorn hair.
Their kiss broke for air, his lidded gaze meeting her openly searching ones and his heart trembled.
She really does have the most power over him.
But tonight, he won't let her know that.
Tonight, he won't let her win.