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UNDERAGE.

This chapter doesn't contain anything that adds to the overall plot, feel free to skip

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He connected our lips in a heated kiss, fingers tangling in my hair to take full control over me. His other hand pulled me closer by the small of my back, moving down to my ass for a brief moment, giving it a harsh squeeze and going back up to disappear under my shirt, fingertips digging in my flesh.

I let him take control, draw the pattern of the kiss with his tongue. The right way to describe it was calling it perfectly messy - he was just everywhere on my body, and I needed him to be everywhere. I wanted to let him take out his frustration on me. Let him own me even though he didn't.

"It hurts so good when you mess with my feelings," he detached our lips and moved to my cheek, placing a few kisses on his way to the upper part of my neck - right under my ear, "and I just let you do it. I let you fuck me over."

The guilt he was making me feel with his words was unreal. However, when I felt him grazing his teeth over the delicate skin of my neck, the pleasure overpowered any other feeling and emotion. Before I knew, he had his lips wrapped around my sweet spot, sucking a hickey and soothing it with a kiss.

"Sometimes I just wanna hurt you back."

Never in my life I'd think deep down he held so much anger. I get that me not being able to commit while all he wants to do is be able to call me his can get painful. I know that it can get difficult for him to watch me talk to someone who potentially likes me while he can do nothing about it. No one could have the patience to tolerate someone like me. But I can't do anything about it.

"Hurt me then." At least I can commit to him in some type of way. At least he can have the satisfaction of owning my body.

"Up." When both his hands dropped to my ass, I knew that he wanted me to jump. I wrapped my legs around his hips, whining when I felt the pressure of his prominent bulge along with the rough material of the jeans press over the much thinner material of my underwear, as I was just in a shirt again.

With my height readjusted to make my neck and collarbones more accessible for him, the hot pair of lips returned to my skin again. Only this time more aggressive and demanding, determined to get a whimper out of me with each suck and soothing kiss.

Soon the thin material of the shirt I was wearing got too much to handle, it felt like the few millimeters of fabric were acting like a barrier, not letting my skin breathe. I knew the feeling had nothing to do with the shirt, Clay was the one to blame, but still, I pushed his mouth away from my skin and pulled the shirt off.

He hummed in approval. One of his hands stayed on my ass supporting my body up, while the other quickly went up to undo the clasp of my bra. His fingers were skilled even in that job.

The foreplay got too much for me. He didn't leave a single spot on my exposed skin unexplored by his mouth. There was a dull, satisfying throbbing in between my legs, in the place where his still jean-covered length was pressed to me.

I finally managed to push him away and jump down to stand on my own feet - the only possible way for me to feel a bit less powerless. That little feeling was what kept me sane. The thought of being with someone so dominant that they could completely take over my body sounded surreal, scary, yet alarmingly exciting.

My cold fingertips went under his shirt, tracing his abdomen and feeling it gain more texture from the touch. I looked up at him with a pout, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on mine again. Either he didn't get the hint, or didn't have it in his plans. Instead he took off his shirt.

"What's this for?" His thumb caressed my tinted lips, probably referring to the pout that was still there. As I parted them to speak, he pushed his thumb in. "I mean I can think of few things."

He could say so much without even mentioning his main point. I got the hint and dropped down to my knees, quickly undoing the button of his jeans, pulling down the zipper and doing the same thing to his jeans and boxers. He was more than ready for me, veins already popping out and leading to the red tinted tip.

Clay brushed the wavy mess of hair away from my face, opening my sight completely by collecting the strands and holding them behind my head in a bunch. He could easily guide my head if he wanted to, but instead he let me take the lead by swirling my tongue around the tip while looking up at him through my lashes.

"We both fucking know the only cock good enough for your pretty little mouth is mine," he sighed as I took him deeper in, "get it nice and wet."

His words were driving me insane. His groans, the sharp breaths he would take everytime I'd suck on the sensitive tip just made me drenched without any stimulation.

But I noticed one thing. Everytime I'd try to take him deeper, his hand that was holding my hair would pull my head back, not letting me choke on him. And it only hit me after a few failed attempts. He didn't want to hurt my already damaged throat. It paints a small, fulfilled smile across my lips that are wrapped around him, making me feel all warm and bubbly inside.

I used my hand on whatever I couldn't fit - or it's better to say he didn't let me fit in, cause I'd gladly choke on him till my eyes watered if he'd let me.

"Such a fucking whore for my cock." Clay had to pull my head all the way back to make me stop. "Get up." I followed his instructions.

And apparently he wanted to take me up even higher, cause as I stood up, he lifted me up once again. I looked at him confused, not catching up on what he was doing. And he didn't make me wait for long either. Holding me up with one hand, he took the other one between my legs to feel my wetness through the almost soaked material. He, of course, made a comment about it before pushing the fabric aside and lining himself up with my entrance.

"You're just gonna let me fuck you like this?" The smugness in his voice and the teasing he started down there was getting unbearable, "My tiny little doll."

My breath got caught in my throat when he lowered me down just enough for me to take a bit more than the tip in.

"Clay, please." The stretch was definitely there, but the depth was not enough for me to feel satisfied.

"Such a filthy slut for me," he loosened his grip on my hips a bit more, sinking farther in with the perfectly balanced mix of the burn and the pleasure, "and only for me."

Soon he was all the way deep inside me. Last time we did this I was in the lead and I spared myself, not taking him all the way I could. But this position, him taking the lead, him being the one deciding how much my body could take rushed a wave of ecstasy through my veins.

"Perfect fit. Made for me." Clay's voice was low, right under my ear. It sent shivers through my already tingling body. I let out of a whiney moan.

He picked a rhythm from there, not only thrusting up into me, but controlling my hips too - making each thrust so deep and powerful that they left me choking over my own words.

I had no control over what was going on. My whole body was literally in his hands, under his mercy - and oh man, was it a new, refreshing and thrilling feeling. I knew I wasn't going to last long if he kept the pace and his lips on my neck. He was messing with the skin like he owned it.

"Pleasee," I didn't know what I was asking for, but my whole body was going through waves of shock from how good it felt, "Clay, please."

"Keep your voice down," his words and actions were strongly in contrast from each other, "if you still need it."

I really couldn't care less about what he said. He has no idea how good it feels, how deep he goes, how fucking perfect he looks like this - holding my body up with almost no effort and using it in the best way possible. With every snap of his hips my thighs dared to close, but they couldn't. His body was between them.

I didn't even get the chance to warn him, and I don't think he even cared for the warning. Even my fingertips were tingling as my walls clenched repeatedly around him, his name leaving my mouth in a pathetic whimper.

"Holy shit-" he had to slow down a bit, cause he wasn't nearly done yet. But me tightening around him dared to drag him to his own high quicker than he intended to, which he avoided by changing the pace and waiting for me to calm down.

Before I could process what was going on, Clay pulled out and threw me on the bed carelessly. He didn't lie when he said I was his little doll. I was just realizing how much control he had over me.

I was on my back, still trying to steady my breathing when I felt the familiar hands grope both sides of my hips and tug me closer to him. The most intimidating thing about this was that he was being quiet. I expected a few remarks about me finishing fast from how good he fucked me, it wasn't like him at all to be quiet and not get cocky about something that adamant.

I think he's planning to fuck me to death.

With my thoughts he hovered over my body, leaning down and finally kissing my lips. It made everything vanish from my head. I knew he was trying to calm me down before we could move on, but his lips were so soft and sweet, so perfectly shaped for mine. I didn't want to pull away, but he did, looking down at me as I felt the tip of his cock brush against my entrance again.

"How much do you think you can take?" He licked his lips, slowly pushing into me again.

"I- fuck- w..what?" My voice was already strained.

"How much of this can you take?" He pushed all the way in with a harsh snap, "How long until I ruin you?" Pulling almost completely out, he spoke again, "Get your pretty thighs all weak and wobbly," my heart was about to explode when he slammed right back in, "drain you out of cum."

When I tell you I had a good comeback but no strength to deliver it, I mean it. It felt like I was using the energy that my body needed for vital processes to force myself to say it out loud.

"You're challenging yourself, not me."

But I did manage to blurt it out, and I don't regret it one bit. Well, yet.

Clay chuckled ignorantly as he gripped both sides of my hips and slammed into me hard. I yelped as I felt the thickness of his cock spread me apart, "A fucking bratty bitch. That's what you are."

My nails dug in the skin of my own palms when he put his hand on my throat, supporting half of his body weight with it while the other hand stayed on the mattress, next to my head. He was moving unbelievably fast, pushing every single inch of him inside of me and pulling almost completely out each time.

I couldn't even speak, I needed the little oxygen that went through my halfway blocked airways for things more important than talking.

"Squeezing me so much," he was breathless too, pushing me closer and closer to my second orgasm with every sloppy thrust, "wanna cum again? After being a fucking brat about it?"

"Clay-" tears were starting to stream down from the corners of my eyes, I needed his hand gone from my throat to answer. He got the hint and loosened the grip, watching me take a deep drag of air, "ple-ase."

"No. You're not allowed to." He slowed down purposely, picking a torturing pace that wasn't nearly enough after what he gave me.

I thought I'd be patient enough to wait for him to finish having his fun with the teasing, but he went on forever. The worst part about it was that he was still giving me all the length - going as deep as he could, but with such a ridiculously slow pace.

My patience wasn't even close to being enough. I tried to flip us over.

I tried.

I completely forgot that he was nearly a foot taller and incomparably stronger than me. I forgot that his hand was still on my throat. I forgot that he could use it to push me down and control my breathing at the same time.

Clay leaned down, just above my face, circling his hips and gaining back the previous speed. Then I heard his low, deep voice.

"Know your fucking place."

I don't know if it was from his words, the comeback of the speed or the pressure of his hand on my throat, but I was close again. And seeing that he didn't stop, I choked out his name - body arching up from the mattress before falling right back down again, completely limp and spent.

He had to stop moving again, groaning and shutting his eyes. I could tell how much self-control he had to be able to stop and deny his own high, just to go another round on me.

I was waiting for his next move as he pulled out and tugged from my thighs again. But we only went as far as having him place a small kiss on my knee when the mattress vibrated from my phone laying on it.

Oh god, no.

"Oo, perfect." Clay smirked. "Pick up."

I looked at the name "George" displayed on my screen, then looked back at Clay still between my legs.

"I'm not-" I shook my head.

"Shh, it's rude if you don't."

Clay really went as far as quoting me, leaning all the way to my phone, accepting the call and putting in on speaker before moving back between my legs. This time with his mouth being in the main role.

"Hello?" George's voice brought me back to reality.

I can pull this off. I can do this.

"Heey." I already sound off. Maybe because Clay's silently planting kisses on my inner thighs while using his strength to make sure I don't shut them close.

"Oh wow, you're voice's still bad," George noticed immediately, "did you try the popsicle thing?"

I swallowed hard as Clay licked a thick stripe, collecting my wetness with his tongue.

"Literally had one an hour ago," I saw the smug fucker smirk from my words, as three of his fingers went up to my mouth. I took them in, getting them wet with as little sound as possible, "having one at the moment." I think my boldness really saved the situation.

"Good job!" George cheered.

I bit down on the flesh of my forearm as Clay pushed those three fingers in, while toying with my clit with his tongue.

"Was just checking on you, glad you're better. Well, not counting your voice." I don't think I even processed George's words. Clay curled his fingers up.

"Y-yeah. I- I.. we'll talk late..Er."

I was doing so well, so collected, yet he had to put his fucking fingers to use and screw me over on the last sentence before I hung up. I didn't even get to hear George's reaction, I just hung up mid sentence, watching my phone light up with another call from him which I ignored. Of course he's worried, I sounded like I got fucking stabbed.

"I h-hate you so f..Ucki- shit!" He wrapped his mouth around the bundle of my nerves, sucking while his fingers continued their torture at a rapid speed. He hummed too, which only made me lose it earlier.

Before I knew I was shaking again, not understanding how it kept getting more and more intense each time. He was in fact ruining me. In the best way possible.

"You're making me so proud," he carried me through my high with his fingers, "even managed to crack a few jokes while dripping down my chin."

I couldn't respond, constant shivers were running up and down my body. I knew I had at least one more to go, he was still rock hard and desperate for release, but I didn't know if I could take it.

Maybe if I kept my mouth shut earlier I wouldn't get myself in a situation like this.

"Gonna be good for me and take one more, yeah?" Clay's voice had softened up a bit. Maybe he sees how destroyed I am.

I'd rather die with his dick inside of me than not stand by my words. So I nodded, watching him reposition himself, this time throwing my leg over his shoulder to change the angle.

He sighed in relief from the return of the warm feeling, while I bit my lip from the still lingering oversensitivity. It got stronger from the first few thrusts, but faded afterwards, completely turning into a numbing pleasure.

"You're so good," I don't know how I got the strength to praise him, but honestly, he deserved it, "but a fucking prick at the same ti- I'M-" he also deserved that.

He just grunted and smirked from my words, eyes closing and movements becoming way less coordinated. His thumb dropped to draw messy circles on my clit, signaling that he was close and wanted me to finish once more before he could do it himself.

It's hard resisting to that demand when he's that good at what he's doing. I could just cum listening to the noises leaving his throat. And adding the sight of his heavy lids, adam's apple moving up and down when he swallowed hard from the pleasure, head falling back when I tightened around him and hand working on me restlessly was more than enough for me to grasp the sheets and arch my back once again - hopefully for the last time tonight cause I couldn't take more.

He could finish inside, he knew he could, but I guess painting me was his intention. Pulling out, he jerked himself a few times with a string of curse words along with my name rolling out his tongue, as the hot spurts landed from my belly all the way up to my breasts.

He had a lot to give, which was understandable from how much he edged himself and took a step back right before he'd explode.

"Holy shit." His voice was exhausted, his body almost clashing down as he had to lean on one hand to support himself. He held himself together, still short on breath but definitely admiring the piece he just made.

"Damn, chill Picasso." I looked down at the sticky mess he made.

He laughed, having just enough power to stretch for a towel. And a bit more to clean me up partly before we'd be able to stand on our feet and shower.

"Picasso my ass," he shook his head, "you had the opportunity to call me Da Kinky."