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| Source: http://adultsonlyblog.com/?tag=rough-sex&paged=3 |
“I can’t believe you forgot again. You fucking bastard!”
I slammed the front door shut and the bastard in question
looked at me blankly. He was preparing a sandwich and looking far too good for
my current mood. He was wearing only a pair of unbuttoned jeans, the golden
expanse of his chest rippling with muscle.
My pussy fluttered in telltale arousal and I got even angrier.
Neither his dark good looks nor a dozen roses the next day would cut it this
time.
“What are you talking about?” he asked as I marched up to
him and flung my present at his chest. It was an envelope with tickets to a
basketball match featuring his favorite team the following week.
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh,” he said.
“That’s all you have to say?”
When he continued to watch me blankly I turned around with
an angry noise and headed toward our bedroom. I could not continue to look at
him and not do bodily harm.
He grabbed me before I cleared the room and swung me around.
My words were muffled beneath his kiss. His tongue stroked. His teeth nipped. His
lips demanded. I only resisted for the barest second.
He bended me over the kitchen counter and proceeded to fuck
my brains out. His jeans were around his ankles and most of my suit still clung
to my body. Our skins slapped loudly, dirty words were said and hands touched
hard enough to leave marks of ownership.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned, slapping my
ass.
I pushed back into his thrusts, my back arched into a sharp C.
“I’m still mad at you.”
He pushed harder against me and I cried out. His teeth scraped
against my bare shoulder. His breath was as harsh as mine. His hand moved from my
hip and reappeared in front of me. “Maybe this will get me back in your good
graces.”
It was a ring.
“Marry me. Say yes.”
Pleasure bloomed out of control.
“Yes,” I screamed with the best orgasm of my
life. 
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