latino_menace | OOM: Bogotá on fight night

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OOM: Bogotá on fight night

He'd never really thought that Fiona would take him up on his casual offer to come to watch him fight. Not that it seemed like she was full of shit or anything...but she is a woman. They say things easily, they're flippant and don't have the stomach for anything rough.

His opinion of women at the moment is, justifiably he thinks, low. Maria can shoulder a lot of the blame for that.

He always fights on a Friday and this week, he's definitely in the mood to cause some pain. He'd almost forgotten about Fi but when he opens the bathroom door and looks out onto the bar, he figures why not? He can even see her from where he's standing and she doesn't look like she's doing anything important.

'Busy tonight?'

He's never been much good at small talk.

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Another kiss, and another, she nods. "Yes." She can't stop touching him, and one hand snakes down between them to stroke his cock through his slacks. "Ramon."

He breathes out long again, lets her play for the briefest of moments before taking her wrist and easing her away. He doesn't let go of her arm though, just slips down and takes her hand to lead her from the room.

He's thanking God for loose pants right about now, and a jacket that'll button over the very obvious show of desire he's got going on.

'Pay them and get me out of here,' he says shortly to one of his guys, not stopping, heading straight for the car.

Her fingers interlace with his and she holds tight to his arm, pressing her face against his shoulder. She lets him hold the door for her and pulls him in behind her, watching his eyes, wanting to see the fierce desire she's feeling reflected in his gaze.

It's there and should also show in the way he kisses her immediately in the dark, totally ignoring the guy getting into the passenger seat, waiting for the driver who was left behind to pay.

Pulling back, he pats his thigh, encouraging her to straddle him.

'C'mere. I want to play.'

Twenty minutes 'til home and he doesn't want to keep his hands to himself.

Her gaze cuts over her shoulder for a moment and back to his face, using the excuse of letting her hair down to think.

It doesn't matter, she wants, she wants.

She goes to him, her hands fisting in his shirt, her teeth fixed in her lower lip. She wants his hands on her, wants to kiss that mouth again. Nothing short of automatic weapons fire is going to keep her from that.

As soon as her leg is across him, he grabs her butt and pulls her tight against his body, wanting her to feel what she's doing him. He leans up to kiss her, stops short of her lips and smiles, draws back just a fraction as his hands slip under her panties at the back so he can hold her butt properly, feel her skin. Then he kisses her, tongue brushing her lip before claiming her mouth properly.

At some point the car starts and moves off. He doesn't even notice.

There's a strangled gasp and moan on her lips as she tries to stay quiet. Her eyes fall closed as his warm hands slip over her skin. She melts against him, drinking him in, kissing him with a breathless hunger.

Her hips move on him, grinding gently, wanting to feel his arousal, his heat. The tequila in her blood, the movement of the car, and the knowledge that they're not alone seems to drive her even higher.

Her fingertips brush his jawline, weaving in his hair, tracing the shell of his ears, grazing down the sides of his neck, lost in just feeling him.

His eyes close under her touch, that grind against his cock that's aching for attention. It's so fleeting, that pressure, but it's there and he can't help anicipating it, feeling the tip of his prick moisten as it rubs the fabric of his shorts.

A moment or two more and he frees two buttons at the top of the dress - his shirt - and pulls it to one side. She's not exposed to the guys behind her and he'll make sure it stays that way; she's not a whore to be shared around. He just needs that nipple in his mouth as they drive, that soft breast against his mouth, that hard nub between his lips. He wants to make her moan for him, before this night is out he wants to hear her scream. The shit of the last few hours is disappearing completely because it can't contend with this.

Edited 2010-03-09 21:12 (UTC)

She curls around him, her face pressed against his temple, whimpering into his hair, shuddering in time with his tongue flickering over that nerve rich skin. Her hands flutter and come to rest on the back of his neck, and he can hear her muffled groan from between clenched teeth.

Another long moment and she's murmuring low and soft in some foreign language, her hips still undulating against him, harder now, her thighs clamped on his hips. She pulls back, looking down at him, watching the lights of the city playing over his face and her wet skin. Her eyes are wide and dark, drinking in the sight.

He can tilt his head back and roll his eyes up to see her face but not once do his lips leave their play. His breath is coming short and heavy and he can't stop himself, he has to take her hand and push it between his legs just for some relief. There's an instant groan and his eyes shut again, just for a second. But then he's finding her eyes, holding them as he sucks gently at her and lets his free hand move round from behind, over the top of her leg, a finger trailing under the elastic of her underwear until it finds the soft skin of her mound.

For now, no further. But his fingerips stroke just, just above where he knows her clit is waiting for him.

Her expression shifts, melts into a grimace of pleasure. She can only just feel the ridge of his cock and already, she can tell how hard he is. Her eyelids droop with arousal and her lips part, her tongue playing over her teeth.

She holds his gaze, intent as a loaded gun, never looks away. Deft fingertips caress that sweet spot just beneath the crown, a sweet tormenting touch, steady and sure.

She doesn't speak, doesn't make a sound. Just mouths the words, Need you.

It's difficult to smile when your mouth is busy but he winks with a glint in his eye and she'll feel one fingertip slip down into her folds, down far enough to feel her wetness and maybe tease a little over her slit. But then he slides it back up, uncovering her clit and staring a slow rub.

Her thighs grip him so tight he can't push into her touch and it's frustrating, his pants in the way when he wants so much more. But she told him it'd be worth the wait and he's starting to believe her, with the way her fingers are hitting his favourite spots just hard enough for him to feel them through the clothes but not hard enough to push him too far. She's so slick under his finger, so obviously raring to go - part of him can't wait to get home and part of him wants this sweet anticipation to last forever.

That smile is like pure heroin flowing into her veins. No physical touch alone could make her whole body flush with heat the way his smile can.

And then he's touching her, so gently, so perfectly. Her chin tips up and she swallows a moan. The hand at his shoulder grips tight, nails digging in and her touch at his cock falters. She rocks her hips into his fingers, a faster pace now. She swallows another moan, the rest of the world falling away. There is no one else in the world but him at this moment.

He releases her breast finally, needing to take a deep breath to calm himself. For a moment, he just looks at her chest and takes in the picture - her, rubbing herself on his hand, shirt open and half exposed, wet for him in his lap...God. It's a pretty sight. A surge of pleasure hits him and he's glad when her hand on him stops; he pushes it away because he can wait.

What can't wait is his need to feel her. He switches the pressure to his thumb so his fingers can stroke her hole for a minute, his lips finding her throat. And then he's groaning against her neck, pressing those two fingers firmly inside her, letting that wet heat envelop them entirely.

Christ, she wasn't lying. That's tight.

The press of his lips on her throat light her up and then he's penetrating her, deep and sure. He doesn't go straight for her g-spot, and that's the only thing that keeps her from dissolving right there. Her thighs part, giving him more access, not caring that the man in the front seat could turn and see everything.

Both hands wind around his neck, and she clings to him, her lips finding his ear, tiny gasps and pleas guiding him until yes -- "Theretherethere."

She curls into that pleasure, her hips bucking now, her cunt rippling around his fingers, clamping down hard when she hits her peak. She's a woman in her prime and this is no tiny shiver and squeak he's used to from younger girls. This isn't fake. No, this is the real deal, long and hard. He can feel her quaking as she comes undone in his arms, completely silent, never making a sound.

Edited 2010-03-09 22:59 (UTC)

His eyes are half closed, mouth slack as he breathes hard, looking blindly over her shoulder as she bends and clings. For a hazy second, his eyes meet those of the driver and he's aware there's music playing for the sake of discretion; also aware that at least one of them is jerking off. He'd smirk if he could focus on a damn thing but the ache in his balls and the clench of her cunt - no chance of that though and then she's coming and his mind is wiped of every damn thing but her orgasm, hearing that Theretherethere over and over again in his mind and loving the shake of her body.

When she's calming, he reaches out his free hand and taps the seat in front (home, now) because if he doesn't get in her soon he's going to mess up his pants like a kid. The other hand stays right where it is, easing in and out of her in a slow, steady motion. He figures she'll tell him to stop if she's had enough or just keep right on riding it if she wants more.

Her breath feathers against his ear, tiny whimpers as the intensity bleeds away. He doesn't stop and she doesn't stop. She won't stop until the car slows and turns into the drive. She's vaguely aware of the sounds from the front seat, and it doesn't matter.

He's touching her and she doesn't care about anything else. She pushes back, wanting to taste his mouth again, wanting to feel that hungry groan vibrating into her skin.

He feels like someone's pumped about another twenty litres of blood into his body, like he's going to burst out of his skin all over. He's tight with need, feet flat on the floor and raising her up and down simply by the flexing of his thigh muscles, biceps popping in the arm thats fingering her gently. He moans as she kisses him and circles her clit fast with his thumb, praying that his guys didn't detour too much and that they get home soon.

'I want to eat your pussy,' he murmurs tightly against her mouth. 'Eat you 'til you scream. Fuck, I want to know what you taste like.'

"Yes please yes." Just as she can feel the power of his body moving beneath her, he can feel her soft curves undulating against him. Her hands twist and fret in his shirt, and when the car hits an extra hard bump, she gasps, laughs against his lips.

Her hand slips between their bodies and she brushes past his fingers, dipping her fingertip in that musky honey and bringing it back to paint his lips.

He licks it off with the tip of his tongue, fast and needy, catches her fingertip in his teeth and sucks it into his mouth with a moan, holding her eyes as he does.

'Sweet. You taste sweet.'

He can't take much more of this. His head drops forward to rest on her chest while he takes a deep breath (calm down), then his mouth closes on her breast once more as his fingers speed up
in her (theretherethere), wanting to ground himself on her body before he goes too far.

She echoes that moan back to him, louder this time, laughing under her breath again when she hears another moan from the front seat. His mouth finds her breast and she arches for him, loving the sight of his mouth moving on her skin, loving the feel of hungry lips and tongue sliding over her skin.

Her hips keep riding and her breath hitches, another shudder moving through her. Her hand returns to his, grabs his wrist and pulls him even deeper. "Curl your fingertip. Harder, fuck yes. Now just -- press and vibrate."

Normally he'd object to a woman daring to give him instruction. Right now? He wants nothing more in the world to make her come again. So he does as he's told, nipping at the soft flesh in his mouth, pressing her clit at the same time, almost desperate, needing to feel her break.

He knows the moment he's found that spot because she goes rigid and still in his arms. Her core constricts around him, pulsing in waves, and he feels her writhe, a slow hard motion as she curls around him. Another span of heartbeats, his hand moving strong and hard inside her and she's shuddering against him, the tremor moving through her whole body, her voice a rising cry that fills the small space.

He groans out again, his noise lost in hers, feeling almost spent with the effort of holding himself back. But she feels glorious, sounds glorious and he's not at all surprised to see some cleaning up happening in the front.

'Get me home, amigos,' he says, weakly, withdrawing his hand from her finally. Then he looks up at her face and sucks his fingers clean, the barest shine of sweat on his forehead.

She shifts just enough to tug her 'dress' back down again, still trying to catch her breath, smiling down at him with a look of supreme contentment. One hand rises to brush that one lock of hair back from his brow, and then she's bending to kiss him.

"Not done with you yet. Not by a long shot."

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