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Isabella

The car swerves to an empty parking lot of a dull medical centre. I reel in my seat.

The windows of the bricked building are closed with shutters, and the remains of a splintered lamp hang below a staircase leading to the main entrance. The door, with a closed sign affixed to it, has a fractured and decomposing door frame, and plants line the constructions exterior, starved of life and leaves bleached.

When Andreas parks the car in the middle of the dead lot, I spot debris on the road near the roof. This place is abandoned.

"What are you doing?" I ask, twisting in my seat to examine my gloomy surroundings. Not even the blinding sun can light up the place.

"Giving my lady what she wants." He clicks off his seat belt and moves the car seat back as far as it can go. Then he gestures forward, to the ground below him. "Get down."

Don't smile.

Don't smile.

Don't smile.

"I want your mouth on the head of my cock, baby. Quit using it to grin." He reaches forward and unbuckles my seatbelt, holding my arms as he guides me onto his lap where I straddle him and feel his bulge.

He begins to unbutton the top of my blouse, hunger and want simmering in those dark eyes. None of my staring goes unnoticed. He smirks at me when he gets to my second button.

"You're such a pretty girl. What a shame you're such a brat."

I can't help myself. Words come rushing back.

"You're such a handsome boy. What a shame you're such a prick."

Buttons shoot around the car as he splits my blouse in two. One patters against the window and falls soundlessly to the floor.

His eyes are flaming, but he orders calmly, "On the floor, my sweet girl."

I crawl back down. Our eyes train on each others, his stalking me like a predator hunting down its prey and mine looking up at him eagerly as my knees meet the floor. I grab his thighs, focusing on him unbuckle, watching as his inked hands work their way around loosening the strap of his belt, listening to the metallic ding.

He pops off the button and unfastens the zip, and I can't help but immediately tug down the waist band of his boxers. His cock flings out. Hard, long, and impressive. Oozing with precum.

I don't realize I'm beaming at it until he chuckles.

"You look beautiful when you're hungry," he tells me, raking his fingers through my hair, then collecting it in one hand.

"How about when I'm not?" My fingers wrap around him, stroking up and down. He jerks my head upwards, grip tight on my hair. My lips part and I release a shaky breath.

"Let's not ask questions we already know the answer to." He's silent as he lets my head fall back into place and direct towards where I'm stroking him. But I feel him monitor me, prolong that existence of quiet between us. A wordless message, I'd say. A message that he's well past the point of confirming his attraction to me, something he wants as common knowledge between us. Something I'd faced his anger for after having doubted it in the changing room of the swimwear store that day.

I lick his tip, letting my tongue return to my mouth unhurriedly, seductively, as his cum settles atop it. His eyes light up, chest moving with a new rhythm.

One that becomes abnormal as I bring my lips around him, letting half of his length slide down my throat. I make sure to look at him, watch his face contort when I go back up, flick my tongue around, and go back down, continuing the alternations and pleasuring in seeing him lose his fussy demeanour.

I gag on him, swallow what I can until my throat is clogged and I rise panting with a slimy mouth, breathlessly massaging his cock. At the same time, another hand creeps to his loosened blouse, slipping underneath and exploring his body.

He gasps, and that's my incentive to touch the hard ridges of his stomach, feel the hollow between his abs, push my palms into his skin. It's a living, existing temple of muscle and flesh, everything open for me to tour and caress. Everything tensed and heaving.

I stretch my arm further, let my hand wander down to his chest, and reign. I can't stare into those spellbound eyes anymore, even if it's my touch they're magnetized to. Those touches atop his heart, those touches surrounding his cock, each dragging him deeper into a carnal hypnosis.

Now my arm is completely extended, and my fingers are brushing just below his neck, before the opening of his collar. I curl them around his skin. Fondling. Brushing. Destroying his composure. Taking over.

Then I flex them, and my long acrylics pierce into the skin of his chest, beginning to cruise down his torso, scratch his skin.

His breath catches, the ones after that uneven and shaky, almost like a whimper as I lower my head to taste his cock, dig my nails deeper, and claw him slower.

I leave a mark on his body. I can feel it. I know it because my nails put more pressure as they continue their journey and dip into his cleavage, scrape roughly over his abdomen, hike the path over his abs. They don't want to be compassionate and gentle. They fracture his body's surface.

The courage to look back up at him returns as I pull my hand from under his blouse. He gazes at me dozily, bewitched and sluggish, mouth parted and an exit for hot, heavy exhales. I resist the urge to grin. I've taken his dominance, and I want him to continue taking deep gulps. I need him to forfeit himself to me.

I detach from him completely.

That wash of loss over his expression is amazing. The way his eyelids fly open, the way his jaw tightens, the way he tenses his shoulders and grits his teeth.

But before he can speak, I'm shrugging off the remainder of my damaged blouse, letting it fall to the floor, and crawling back onto his lap.

My knees rest on either side of his thighs, and I use the nape of his neck to haul myself upwards, the top of my head just touching the roof of the car. I move my breasts to his face, and he looks at them like he wants to shrivel the black laced bra into tiny pieces. It matches the colour of his outfit.

I drop my mouth to his ear and whisper, "Do you want to fuck my tits?"

Hot air whips against my cleavage; he expels a lungful of oxygen.

I receive a feverish nod.

"Okay." I nibble at the round of his ear, and bring my chest closer.

I make sure my next words are heavy, clear, able to glide right through that unbreakable daze of his but assure it stays intact, because if it doesn't, then the build up to his subservience will be all for nothing. Just a failed ambition.

I look down at his hooded eyes and smirk. "Then you're going to have to colour them."

I lick his lips and get into the passenger's seat.

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