Summary: To the rest of the world, Santana seems the true alpha female. But with Brittany, Santana isn't ashamed to beg for what she wants.
Brittany teases her.
She teases her because it's too easy, almost effortless, to start a fire burning in Santana.
She starts early, so she can watch it simmer and glow the entire evening, can watch as the shaking in Santana's hands grows visible, so that by the end of the night, she is a clumsy, stuttering mess.
She loves when Santana has this look in her eyes — that subtle confusion of wanting to fuck and be fucked simultaneously, until Santana isn't sure whether she is predator or prey.
It all starts with a simple text around noon.
From Brittany: Don't forget we're going out for Quinn's birthday tonight. I'm coming straight from work so bring the gift! I left it by the door.
And a follow-up text just a few moments later:
From Brittany: Be a good girl for me and don't wear panties under your dress. xB
While Santana could easily say no, Brittany knows that she won't. She's obedient to Brittany in a way that would shock anyone else who knows her. In her life, at her job, with her friends, Santana has a commanding presence. She barks orders, bullies, and always, always, gets what she wants.
But at night, in the privacy of their home, Santana is putty beneath Brittany's hands, whimpering, begging, crying out for what she wants, what she needs — what only Brittany can give her.
Brittany knows her text will set off a chain reaction for Santana, who, for the rest of the day, will try to delude herself into thinking that there's no way she'll go commando tonight.
It's not until Santana has Quinn's gift in hand and is on her way out the door that she falters in her steps, shaking her head at herself as she quickly tugs her panties from below her tight black dress. She throws them on the end table by the door before closing and locking it behind her.
Brittany smooths down her own dress as she enters the bar, immediately searching for her group. It is barely 8:30, yet the club is already filling quickly. Sauntering over to stand behind Santana, Brittany runs a hand down the curve of her hip, subtly checking for the presence of panties against her palm. Finding none, Brittany smirks, leaning in to place a chaste kiss against the skin of her lover's neck.
"Hi, baby," Santana says, flushing at the knowledge that she's been discovered.
Even as Brittany goes on to greet their friends around her, she trails her fingers teasingly over the swell of Santana's ass.
Santana's body is humming before she knows it.
The group makes their way from the bar to a large table, barely big enough to fit the group, so that Quinn can open her presents. Santana finds a seat around the table and pulls Brittany down to sit in her lap. Her arms encircle the blonde's waist as she nudges her nose against Brittany's cheek. "You look sexy, Britts," she murmurs, pressing a kiss against the underside of her jaw.
Brittany smiles demurely down at her through thick lashes, her hand threading through Santana's long, dark locks to rest on the back of her neck. She places a soft, modest kiss against Santana's lips.
A few moments later, when Brittany leans forward to slide their gift across the table to Quinn, Santana has to stifle a gasp as Brittany's hips grind down into her lap. If Brittany feels Santana's fingers digging into her hip, she doesn't mention it.
Santana tries to focus on Quinn, at least while it's still quiet enough to hold a conversation in the bar, but her eyes are glued to Brittany's long, dexterous pointer finger circling over the rim of her martini glass.
Brittany can feel the waves of tension radiating off her lover. She turns her attention towards their other friends, knowing that Santana's arousal will skyrocket from the simple act of being ignored. If she squirms a little bit more than usual, there on Santana's lap, well, so be it.
After another drink, the group mostly disperses back to the bar area. Santana turns to face the crowd, watching as people begin to dance. The bar is getting increasingly darker, the lights pulsing down hard around the dance floor. She feels familiar hands sliding confidently over her hips from behind, pulling their bodies flush against one another before those same hands smooth over the front of Santana's thighs. She can feel her pelvis muscles clenching and unclenching painfully as she feels Brittany's breasts pressing against her back.
Brittany props her chin on Santana's shoulder, her fingers creeping to the hem of her lover's obscenely short dress. She rakes her fingernails up the skin of Santana's thighs, so that they begin to disappear beneath the fabric.
"Having fun?" Brittany asks, her lips brushing against the shell of Santana's ear.
Santana can only nod her assent.
"You're such a dirty girl," Brittany husks into her ear. "Coming out without any panties on."
Santana's knuckles go white around her glass, her ass pushing instinctively backwards into Brittany's hips. One of her hands snakes around the back of Brittany's head, tangling into the blonde curls that cascade over her shoulders. Santana closes her eyes, nodding her head yes.
"Say it," Brittany demands quietly, for no one to hear but Santana.
"What will you do for me if I say it?" Santana asks daringly.
"That's not how this works," Brittany says, turning Santana forcefully to face her. Brittany leans in until their faces are a mere inch apart, gripping Santana's forearm. "If you want me to pay that pussy any attention tonight, you'll say it."
Santana bites her bottom lip, tugging it between her teeth before speaking. "I'm a dirty girl," she whispers, submitting.
"Mmm," Brittany hums, eyes closing, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Yeah, you are." She slides her hands around to Santana's ass, pulling her girlfriend's body even more firmly against hers. Just as she feels Santana's lips wrap around her pulse point, Brittany pulls away. "I want to dance," she says simply, unfazed.
With that, Brittany extricates herself from Santana, leaving her breathless near the bar.
Santana shakes her head, watching as her leggy blonde carves out a space on the dance floor. It doesn't matter that she's probably seen Brittany dance at least once a day since the day they met; the sight of her hips working in tandem with the beat is enough to work Santana up, every time.
She knows those hips, knows what they're capable of. She watches as Brittany's thigh muscles clench in movement, and she can feel the pressure of those legs wrapped around her, even now.
Santana finishes her drink and places the empty glass on the bar. As she turns to make her way over to Brittany, she sees a tall, dark-haired woman beat her to the punch. She props her elbows up on the bar behind her, leaning back against it. Brittany meets her eyes from over the other woman's shoulder, cocking her eyebrow tauntingly.
She knows what Brittany is doing. And obviously, Brittany knows what she's doing, too.
Brittany must know that the sight of her abs rolling fluidly against the strange woman's stomach will turn Santana on. She's silently challenging Santana to watch her obediently: just another way to let her girlfriend know who's really in charge.
A tipsy Quinn finds her way to Santana at the bar, who is busy clenching her thighs together to gain some sort of relief. "I'm surprised you're not pulling that girl off of Brittany by the hair," she says, surprised that her normally hot-headed friend is watching so calmly.
Santana instinctively puts on her HBIC face. "Oh, believe me, Britts will get what's coming to her later." She has to keep up appearances, of course. There is no one in the world who knows what really happens behind closed doors, no one who knows that she is secretly at Brittany's mercy, and not the other way around.
Quinn giggles drunkenly and walks away, leaving Santana to face the dance floor yet again. Her eyes never really left Brittany, even throughout the conversation.
Brittany is facing her now, her back pressed against the stranger's stomach as her ass rolls suggestively against the other woman's crotch. Brittany allows the woman to rest her hands on her hips while she looks straight into Santana's eyes. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing what it will do to her watching lover. She dips her body low, bringing her ass tantalizing slowly up the stranger's body, her gaze never faltering.
Santana, whose trembling legs have forced her to take a seat on the nearest bar stool, knows it's time to up the ante. Every now and then, Brittany needs provoking.
Quickly glancing around, Santana uncrosses her legs and slowly spreads them. From where Brittany is standing, she knows that she will be completely exposed from under her flimsy dress. No more than a second later, she closes her knees again, watching as Brittany immediately shrugs the other woman off without a word of explanation.
The way Brittany walks so purposefully towards her makes her dizzy. She slides off the bar stool to stand as her girlfriend reaches her. Brittany leaves barely any space between them so that no one can see as her hand travels down between Santana's legs. Santana feels fingertips brush against the skin of her inner thigh before they abruptly disappear.
Brittany discreetly holds her hand up between them, prompting Santana to look down curiously. Her fingers are moist and shining from where Brittany had apparently cleaned off her thigh. She blushes a deep shade of red.
"God, you're such a little slut," Brittany purrs, pulling her wet fingers into her mouth. "Letting everyone see how wet you are. Letting everyone see your pussy."
Santana's knees buckle a bit, causing Brittany to grab her around the waist to keep her upright.
"I'm your slut, baby," Santana whimpers. "Just yours. Let me show you. Please, let me show you," she begs, desperate to be touched.
"And leave Quinn on her birthday? That's a little rude, don't you think?" Brittany teases, moving to pull away from Santana, but she is quickly tugged back.
"We don't have to leave," Santana blurts out. "I don't fucking care if we do it right here."
Brittany presses her cheek against Santana's, smiling against the skin near her ear. "God, you'd do anything for it, wouldn't you? For me to make you come."
"Yesss," Santana practically hisses, losing her breath at the feel of Brittany's breath in her ear and at the words themselves. "Anything. I'll let you do anything you want to me," she purrs back. "Anything, baby."
Sometimes, this line is enough to sink Brittany. Sometimes not.
And although Brittany's resolve is particularly strong tonight, she can't keep herself from gripping Santana's ass just a little too tight at the thought of so, so many possibilities.
Santana yelps in surprise, her mouth quickly curving into a smile at the feel of Brittany grabbing her so forcefully. She knows she's only getting wetter and wetter and that soon, no amount of Brittany's discreet wiping is going to keep her from flooding this dress.
"Fuck, I can feel you through this dress," Brittany breathes out, reading her mind. "Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up?"
Santana does as she's told, almost grateful for an opportunity to pull herself together. Her body is tingling in ways she hardly thought possible.
Her walk to the bathroom is awkward and uncomfortable, her thighs clenched shut to avoid having her wetness drip any further than her thighs.
She pushes open the door to the ladies room just as another woman is exiting. Inside the stall, she wads some toilet paper and rubs at the dampness on her thighs. She is sensitive to every touch; even the coarse material of the tissue is making her eyes slide to the back of her head.
Santana jerks in surprise as the outer door to the bathroom swings open, hitting the wall behind it. She opens the stall door as she hears the tantalizing click of heels across the floor; that familiar gait can only be one person. That clicking, like a steady metronome, matches the constant throbbing of her clit.
Brittany is standing against the sink, watching her as she exits the stall. She leans back on the partition across from Brittany.
"Did you come to give me what I want?" Santana asks, trying her hand at confidence.
Brittany only chuckles. "Not a chance."
Santana exhales raggedly in disappointment, then decides to try another tactic. "Don't you want me, baby?" she purrs, arching her hips off the wall so that she is only pinned there by her shoulders. Her palms slide up the fabric of her tight black dress, across her taut stomach, and up to cup her breasts. Meeting Brittany's eyes, she slowly pulls down the top of her strapless dress, freeing her breasts.
Brittany cocks an eyebrow, impressed at the lengths Santana is willing to go to get what she wants. She watches as Santana's fingers find her own nipples, tugging roughly before taking each breast fully in her palms. Brittany stays composed, keeping a tenuous hold of the situation, although she can't deny the weakness in her legs at the sight of Santana's dark, puckered nipples. The way her tits are being pushed up by that dress is enough to make Brittany's mouth water.
"Don't you?" Santana repeats, snapping Brittany back to reality. "Want me?"
Brittany grips the sink behind her tightly, refusing to give in.
"No?" Santana continues. "Hmm, do you think your handsy dance partner might want to give me a hand?" she challenges.
Brittany quickly closes the gap between them, grabbing Santana by the arm and turning her so that she is pressed face first against the wall. She places her hands on Santana's hips and tugs backward so that Santana is bent over at the waist, her forearms pressed firmly against the cool tile of the wall.
"So you need a hand, huh?" Brittany asks, roughly grabbing the bottom of Santana's dress and pulling it up over her hips, exposing her. Without warning, she brings a hand down swiftly onto Santana's ass. The sound of the slap echoes through the bathroom, the skin of Santana's smooth, tan ass stinging pink. She hisses in surprise. In pain. In pleasure.
"How's this hand?" Brittany grits out, bringing her palm down on the other cheek.
A groan slips past Santana's lips, her eyes squeezed shut. "So good," she pants. "Fuck, Britt, again."
Brittany lays a particularly hard slap, driving Santana forward.
Unable to hold out much longer, Santana releases one arm from the wall and snakes it down her stomach. Her slit is coated in wetness; it's going to be nearly impossible to find friction, but Santana rubs herself hard. The moment she moans out in pleasure and Brittany realizes what she's doing, Brittany pulls Santana's hand away from her pussy. She grips both of Santana's hands in one of hers and pins them hard against the wall. Again, she spanks Santana.
Just as her hand is coming down, the bathroom door is pushed open. In stumbles a very drunk Quinn, who immediately freezes in place. "Oh God!" she screams, fumbling to cover her eyes.
Santana's skirt is still hitched around her waist, her tits spilling from her dress and swaying from the exertion of being spanked. "Quinn! Get the fuck out!" Santana yells after a few awkward seconds.
"I'm trying!" Quinn squeals, finally finding the door handle and tripping out into the bar.
"Fuck!" Santana screams in frustration as Brittany smirks and backs away from her.
As Brittany helps her tug her dress back down, she leans in close to Santana's ear. "Worried that everyone will find out how filthy you are?"
Santana feels her cheeks getting hot as she covers her boobs, trying to make herself look presentable. Again, she finds herself in one of the stalls, blotting away her wetness (which has intensified tenfold), while Brittany casually walks back out to the bar.
Santana huffs as she flings open the bathroom door. If she doesn't get home and get fucked now, there are going to be big problems.
She finds Brittany casually sitting at the bar with some of their friends, like nothing happened. Brittany wouldn't be able to deny that her panties are soaked through as well, but her satisfaction at this point is secondary. She has to keep turning that cog, stretching Santana tighter and tighter, until that very last second before she snaps.
The physical pain Santana feels from being mercilessly teased is now going so much further than just between her legs. It is actually starting to fuck with her head, to blur the edges of her judgment so that soon, all sense of social decorum will be gone. She is throbbing. She wants to sit, but she can't. She knows she'll stain her dress, and God, that would be embarrassing.
Santana is looking at Brittany's fingers — staring, really — imagining all the wicked things they can do to her. She is standing across the bar from her, taking a second to cool off. She just ordered a drink when a short, fairly attractive woman approaches her. "Want to dance?" she asks cheekily.
"Absolutely not," Santana answers as nicely as possible. "But do me a favor, and smile like you're flirting with me."
"I was flirting with you," the woman says, still smiling.
"God no, not like that," Santana interjects. "You need to really sell it. Smile like I'm smiling."
From across the room, Brittany's eyes haven't moved from the scene once.
"Now, laugh like I'm fucking hilarious," Santana says, and surprisingly, the stranger obliges.
"I'm only doing this, because I pride myself on my acting abilities."
"Now, stare at my chest for a second too long."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Oh yeah, like these tits are so awful to stare at," Santana scoffs. "Just do it."
The woman lowers her eyes to Santana's cleavage, keeping her eyes there just past the point of appropriate.
"Now, grab one of those napkins, and write your number on it. Preferably in lipstick," Santana says through her smile, so that from afar, it looks like a normal conversation.
The woman gives her another skeptical look.
"Ugh. Look, I'll hook you up with one of my friends if you do this. It's her birthday, so it's like a present for both of you," she says as the woman reaches into her clutch for a tube of lipstick.
When she has written her name and number in large letters across the napkin, Santana instructs her again. "Okay, slide it across the bar to me. But be coy about it."
"Okay," the brunette answers, pushing the napkin over.
Santana feels her before she sees her; Brittany's left arm snakes around her stomach from behind and pulls her possessively into her body.
"Hi baby," she says, purposely pronouncing the "baby" with extra emphasis. With her right hand, she reaches around and snatches the napkin from the bar. "Hi…Rachel," she says, reading it before completely crumbling the napkin in her palm. Her smile is so forced that it looks painful. Santana's butterflies only intensify as she feels Brittany's grip on her tighten.
"H-hello," Rachel stutters, looking genuinely nervous.
"What are you two chatting about?" Brittany asks, placing a trail of kisses across Santana's neck and shoulder in a show of possession.
"I…" Rachel starts. "I was just admiring her dres—"
"Breasts," Brittany cuts her off. "You were just admiring my girlfriend's breasts."
"Oh. Well, yes, I admit I took a glance, but only because—"
"Interesting," Brittany says sarcastically, tugging Santana's earlobe into her mouth. Rachel stands by, looking extremely uncomfortable. "I think it's time for us to go."
"Yes," Santana exhales thankfully.
As Santana and Brittany go to grab their purses and say goodbye, Santana shoots Rachel an apologetic (and hopefully grateful) smile.
"Going home to finish what you started?" Quinn giggles, hugging Santana.
"Happy Birthday, you asshole," Santana replies. "Listen, see that little dwarf over there?" She gestures over her shoulder.
"That gorgeous brunette?" Quinn asks, staring at Rachel.
"Yeah, whatever. She's totally into you. Have a ball."
Quinn gives her a confused look, although not at all opposed, as Santana and Brittany make their way to the door.
Since they took two separate cars, Santana and Brittany arrive home at different times. Santana, having squirmed uncomfortably in the driver's seat the entire way home, quickly puts the car in park next to Brittany's in the driveway. Throwing her keys on the kitchen table, she makes a beeline for the bedroom.
Brittany is sitting calmly on the end of the bed, waiting for her. As Santana's hands quickly make to remove her dress, Brittany's voice rings out.
"Leave it," she says firmly. "Come here." She stands from her position on the bed.
Santana, looking pained, crosses the room to stand in front of her. Brittany smiles devilishly at her. Without allowing their bodies to touch, Brittany wets her lips and connects them with Santana's.
Santana whimpers, immediately trying to deepen the kiss, but Brittany pulls away just enough for her lover to come up empty. When Brittany is in control again, she dips back in for a quick kiss and then speaks against her lips:
"Show me your tits."
With quick and jerky movements, Santana frantically pulls the front of her dress down as it had been in the bar bathroom. She desperately hopes that the faster she acts, the faster she'll feel Brittany's body against hers. However, Brittany takes her sweet time to reach out to palm Santana's boobs. The blonde lets out her own sigh of relief (one that very much matches Santana's) as she feels the full weight of her tits in her hands.
"Yes…" Santana hisses out, her head falling back as she feels her nipples being tugged. She releases a blissful gasp as Brittany delivers a sharp slap to the side of her breast. "Fuck, Brittany," she moans, meeting Brittany's gaze. Santana's eyes are glossed over, balancing on the precipice of the pain that comes with wanting pleasure. "Please, baby," she whimpers. "You don't know what you're doing to me."
"Do you want to be touched, Santana?" Brittany asks calmly, retracting her hands so that she can slowly undo her own zipper, undressing herself while Santana watches.
"Yes," she husks, her breasts heaving, her fingers digging into the skin of her own thighs. "God, please." She watches as Brittany unclasps her bra, revealing herself to her. The ache between her legs grows even worse at the sight of the blonde in only her black lace thong.
"Show me how much you want it."
"How?" Santana asks desperately.
Brittany pauses for a beat before answering, "Get on your knees for me."
Santana is kneeling before her so quickly that she's unsure whether her legs gave out or she made the conscious effort to lower herself. She peers up at the blonde with big, pleading eyes, looking so obedient and hungry for her. Brittany allows Santana to reach up to her hips and peel down her thong. Santana knows what Brittany is asking for, and her need to taste Brittany is nearly as strong as Brittany's desire for her tongue.
Brittany brushes Santana's hair out of her face before gathering it in her hands and tugging so that Santana's face is tilted up towards hers. "If you touch yourself, I'll tie your hands," she says sternly.
Santana whimpers but nods feverishly. She licks her lips, and a second later, she feels Brittany's hand guide her head towards the hot skin between her spread legs.
The first taste tears a groan from the back of Santana's throat, so guttural it sounds painful. Brittany's head drops back as she focuses on only the sensation of Santana's mouth working artfully over her pussy. It lacks some of its usual finesse, but that is to be expected. She is working Santana to the brink of desperation, so it's only natural for Santana to eat her greedily.
Santana has not stopped moaning since she started. She feels her cheeks and chin coated in Brittany's wetness, and still, she can't get enough. She feels Brittany's fist clench in her hair, pulling her closer, holding her against her pussy. Santana dutifully keeps her hands behind her back, despite the fact that she is throbbing for release.
"Fuck, you're so good," Brittany pants, her hips thrusting forward to rub against Santana's open mouth. Santana flattens her tongue and holds still as Brittany fucks her mouth with smooth, fluid rolls of her hips.
"Oh my God, Brittany," she hears Santana mumble against her wet flesh.
Brittany looks down at Santana's face and feels herself drench even more at the sight. Her dress still on, her nipples pointing painfully erect, and her mouth working her so beautifully.
She stiffens as she feels Santana wrap her lips around her clit, her tongue rubbing her clit so perfectly. Both hands go to the back of Santana's head, holding her in place, as she feels her clit being sucked gently and a warm tongue never ceasing its actions.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come in your mouth," Brittany gasps. She feels Santana secure her hands around the backs of her thighs as they start to shake and threaten to collapse. Her belly coils from within, her hands pulling dark hair tightly as a tingle begins to spread from her belly button to her chest and down her limbs. Her mouth drops open, loud moans tearing their way out of her throat as her orgasm rips through her. She comes hard, and the air punches back into her as a guttural groan tears from her throat.
Santana continues to lick softly at her, using her arms to keep Brittany upright. She tongues gently but urgently at Brittany's hole, needing to feel Brittany's cum in her mouth, sliding down her throat.
"Mmm," Brittany moans, watching Santana through hooded eyes. "Your mouth is incredible," she says, combing her fingers lazily through dark hair.
"Did I make you feel good, baby?" Santana asks faux-innocently, using her fingers to wipe her mouth.
Pulling Santana to her feet and forgoing an answer, Brittany quickly replaces her lover's fingers with her own mouth, licking the remains of herself off Santana's chin and lips. She holds Santana loosely by the throat with one hand as she does so, and can feel the rumble of Santana's moans beneath her palm.
Growing impatient, Brittany tears Santana's dress the rest of the way off, completely exposing her. Even from afar, it is clear that Santana's pussy is red and swollen from lack of attention.
"Please touch me, Britt," she whimpers quietly, making it so fucking difficult for Brittany to continue to withhold sex from her.
But their night is not nearly over. Brittany licks a hot trail up the side of Santana's neck before muttering, "Get on the bed."
Santana scrambles to comply. As she waits for the blonde's next move, she notices how rapidly she is breathing. She is more turned on than she even thought possible. Her thighs are sticky and warm, her nipples painfully stiff. Santana allows her body to drop to the bed, knowing that if Brittany doesn't fuck her soon, she will be fucking herself.
Brittany crawls between her legs, supporting herself with her arms on either side of Santana's head. She very carefully keeps their bodies from touching as she looks down at Santana's agonized face. "Rub it on me, baby," she whispers, her long, lithe body stretched out over Santana.
Santana's hips immediately jerk up, her pussy connecting with Brittany's firm stomach. She paints a wet stripe up the center of Brittany's abs, before quickly rocking her hips back down. The feeling of relief is instant, but not enough. She rocks her hips feverishly against her lover's skin, beginning to sweat from the exertion of lifting herself off the bed.
Brittany, although aroused, smirks down at Santana, once again letting her know who is in charge.
"Fuck, baby, help me," Santana pleads, becoming frustrated. The ridges of Brittany's abs feel incredible dragging across her clit, but Santana needs more to get off.
Brittany waits a moment longer before reaching above both their heads and pulling open the drawer on the bedside table. She feels around for their harness, finding it quickly. The dildo already attached, she wordlessly lays it on the bed beside Santana.
At the sight of their dildo lying tauntingly beside her, Santana's hips halt their progress across Brittany's now slick stomach. She lets her ass fall back onto the bed as she looks pleadingly at the strap-on. She watches as the blonde crawls off of her and props herself on her side beside her. Brittany dangles the harness above Santana's belly, letting it sway teasingly for a moment before dropping it to land with a thud on her lover's stomach. With her chin, she gestures down her own body, giving Santana silent instructions to strap her up.
Santana feels her insides explode in anticipation. Finally, Brittany is going to give her what she wants. She has honestly never felt so helplessly turned on in her life. The blonde has never made her wait this long, although she can't deny how arousing it is to be used as an object for Brittany's pleasure.
She quickly crawls down the bed, hurriedly pulling the leather straps up Brittany's legs. Her fingers fumble over the clasps as she tugs the leather tight across her hips. She gives the dildo a tug as if to make sure it's secure, although it clearly is. In actuality, she wants to hear the gasp of pleasure from Brittany as the base slaps back down against her clit. She is not disappointed.
"My little slut," Brittany purrs lovingly, looking down at Santana. "After all this, you still want to please me."
"You know I love to make you feel good," Santana says, her voice low and seductive as she strokes her hand up and down the shaft.
"Mhm," Brittany moans in agreement. "You're such a good girl. I'm going to give you what you want, baby."
Suddenly, she roughly spreads Santana's legs apart, so her glistening pussy is exposed. The brunette is unable to hold back her cry of relief as she feels Brittany's tongue swipe from her anus to her clit. "Fuck!" Santana's insides clench in anticipation and need as Brittany licks languidly with the flat of her tongue. She bucks her hips involuntarily, searching for more of Brittany's probing tongue.
Brittany lightly grazes her teeth over Santana's clit and opening, earning a louder moan. She looks up at Santana's face, loving how she bites her lower lip and contorts her face in pleasure. Blue eyes burn a path along smooth caramel skin towards her girlfriend's naked sex. "Stretch your pussy open for me," she commands.
"Baby, please, just fuck me. I need you," Santana begs.
Brittany merely shakes her head from side-to-side, eyes never wavering from her girlfriend's cunt, which is desperately clenching around nothing. "Hold it open."
Santana bites her lip as she trails her free hand down her toned abs. She moans through gritted teeth as her fingers bump her clit. Brittany's hot breaths are too much for Santana as she holds her fat pussy lips open with her fingers for Brittany to see.
"Brittany, please, I need your cock," Santana tries again.
Unable to resist the tempting sight of her girlfriend's drenched hole, Brittany finally gives in to both her own and Santana's need. She holds the dildo by the base as she kneels before Santana and slaps it across Santana's wet folds, earning a desperate scream.
"Please, baby! No more teasing."
She slaps the dildo a few more times directly onto Santana's clit before entering her roughly. Santana practically cries in relief. After a breath for Santana to get accustomed to the intrusion, Brittany grabs both her ankles and places them on her shoulders before gripping her hips firmly.
"God, baby, you're so tight. So good…so fucking good," Brittany groans, loving the sight of Santana's pussy swallowing her dick whole and those perfectly round tits bouncing with every thrust. Her grip on Santana's hips tightens, nails digging in to the point where it's almost pain, but that just makes the pleasure so much more intense. The blonde sets the rhythm — hard and fast — and it's not long before they're both sweaty and panting, hurtling closer and closer to the edge.
As Brittany pounds into her mercilessly, Santana clutches tightly to the headboard above her, needing something to hold onto as she finally, finally gets the fast, rough, unrelenting fucking she's been craving all night. She is reduced to a hot, mewling mess. She can't rock her hips as freely in this position, but Brittany is fucking her so good and hitting that spot inside her so perfectly.
"Tell me you're my slut, San, and I'll let you come," Brittany pants.
The tightness in Santana's stomach is now unbearable. "Fuck, Britt! I'm your slut, Brittany, all yours!" Santana screams out.
"Five," Brittany begins counting and lightly circling her clit. Santana grits her teeth, still letting out strangled screams, not knowing if she'll be able to hold off for those five long seconds. It sounds like an eternity.
"Four." Brittany leans down to quickly tug at a nipple between her teeth.
"Three." She repeats the motion with Santana's other nipple, and she's so close it's painful.
"Two." She punctuates the word with an extra hard thrust and a tight circle on Santana's clit.
"One." Brittany bites Santana's earlobe and presses down on her clit, and Santana hears the sweetest sentence in existence. "Come for me, baby."
With a loud scream, Santana finally, finally lets herself go. Her back arches and naked breasts press into Brittany's as her walls clamp tight around the strap-on. Stars explode behind her eyelids, her whole body freezing for a second before shaking and convulsing. Without conscious thought or knowledge, Santana continues to scream through her climax, bliss exploding from her core to her fingertips, to the tops of her toes, to every edge of her body.
"Shit," Brittany moans out as she sees, hears, and feels the most unbelievable orgasm her girlfriend has ever had. Her clit pulses so hard, she swears Santana can feel it through the harness, inside her own pussy. She pushes in deep, deeper than usual, deeper than she would if she weren't intoxicated by arousal. With that stroke, the base bumps Brittany's clit so hard that her second orgasm erupts. "Fuuuuuuck," she groans loudly at the peak of her high, her cock still buried deep in Santana's convulsing pussy.
As Brittany's climax begins to give way to smaller ripples of pleasure, her body relaxes and tries to fall onto the brunette's below her, but something stops her. Still panting, she looks down to see Santana's head thrown back, mouth open, loud whines tearing out of her throat, clearly still lost in the throes of pleasure.
After what feels like minutes, Brittany is finally able to slowly ease the strap-on out of Santana's hole, the brunette whimpering as she does so. The dildo, her thighs, and the bedsheets are covered in wetness.
"Fuck, Britt," Santana finally breathes out when she finds her voice. "So…so good."
Brittany lightly chuckles at the state of her girlfriend, naked and breathless and completely fucked, and leans down to kiss her jawline. "I'm in charge," she whispers in Santana's ear.
Her body already melting into the sheets below her, all Santana can do is nod, because no matter what the rest of the world sees, she knows that Brittany Pierce will always be in charge.