Hotter than Hell

"Are you all right?" he asked.

He took her face in his hands, his thumb stroking dangerously close to her bottom lip. Maybe it was because she was in some ethereal state and at a loss for words, or maybe it was just because she wanted to taste him, but her mouth opened and then she was sucking on his thumb, twirling her tongue around it, making it nice and wet with her saliva. She practically throated the thing, a sly smile on her face all the while, and his reaction was priceless.

At first he seemed surprised, but then he growled and the sound he made was almost frightening. It made her pussy clench. She wanted him to do it again.

He didn't. Instead, he lifted her like she weighed nothing. There was power in those arms, yet he treated her gently, leading her into the bedroom and closing the door on a curious Lucy. In two strides they were on the bed, his huge body looming over hers like a mountain, gazing down at her naked figure like he couldn't decide what to do with her. She was tall and fit, yet small and pale, her full breasts rising and falling as she struggled to keep her breathing calm, her demeanor almost shy, but her eyes and that clever smile betraying her true intentions.

"I'm not sure if we should be using my friend's bed for this," she said, more curious to hear his reaction than she was actually keen on stopping. "We'll ruin her sheets."

"I'll buy her new ones."

"And if we ruin her bed?"

"Then I'll buy her a new damn bed," he said, voice straining to sound level. "Now flip over." He wanted her bad, and there was no subtlety to it anymore.

Selina grinned.

"Yes, Daddy." She complied, rolling onto her knees and propping herself up on her palms. The throaty noise he made afterwards was like that of a wounded animal. That was new. She looked back at him, wiggled her behind against him, smiled slyly as the realization dawned on her. She had meant it in jest initially, but now... "Do you like it when I call you 'Daddy'?"

Bruce said nothing, nor did he need to. The way he swallowed, the way his mouth hung open ever so slightly, the flaring of his nostrils. He definitely liked it. Selina was unlocking things within him. Dirty things. And the same may have been true for her as well.

Hands cupped her ass, squeezing at her supple flesh, and then the head of his tool was pressing against her, into her. She drew in a breath, clutching at the sheets. He was so fucking big, but she was so fucking wet, and he slid into her easily.

"Fuuck, that's good," she groaned, long and husky. He almost cursed with her.

Instead, he concentrated on filling her inch by agonizing inch, one hand on her hip while the other palmed at her ass. Her body was magnificent, so toned and fit yet more woman than he could get his hands on in every area that mattered. A perfect mix of soft jiggle and firm athleticism that clung to his cock like an iron fist.

He bottomed out inside of her, hitting the other end of her pussy in a fit that was more snug than seemed possible, and then his hips were moving again. In, out; backwards, forwards. Long strokes from tip to base that had her composure breaking into nothingness, as if it never even existed. Slow at first, just to make her feel that want, that yearning, and then he was well and truly fucking her. Hard, rough, dirty. Fucking feral.

This was what she had asked for in the Batmobile. It was what she needed, what he needed, so very very badly. Raw sex, almost angry, but so good neither of them could think straight. The bed bounced, the noises emanating from his throat were harsh, practically pornographic, and Selina could hardly recognize her own labored sobs. But that throbbing sensation building up, oh yes, she recognized that clear as day. It simmered beneath her core, pulsing with waves of heat, and every plunge of his manhood inside of her made it blossom further and further.

He raised his hand and then lowered it, smacking at the meaty cheeks of her ass, at her thighs, flushing her milky skin cherry red, leaving hand prints and making her growl like an animal. She shoved back against him, trying to meet his thrusts, so greedy for his cock that she simply couldn't help but fight for control. She knew he would punish her for it, but that was exactly what she wanted.

Fingers tangled within her hair, taking a good fistful and then pulling, hard enough to make her hiss. It was that sweet kind of pain, and she flooded his length in a wave of her juices.

"Be a good girl, Selina." That rumbling voice of his was next to her ear, caressing her, making her feel dizzy.

Jesus. She almost came right there.

She moaned and he planted a kiss on the sensitive area behind her ear, another on her shoulder, then sat up straight. His hand pressed down between her shoulder blades and she obeyed his silent command, resting her cheek on her arms. If he wanted her face down with her ass in the air she would do it. If he wanted her to grovel she would do it. If he wanted her to wear a fucking collar she would do it. She would do anything so long as he gifted her with that sweet release.

And it was close. And he knew it.

"Are you going to come?" he asked, lengthening his strokes, his voice ragged, frayed by his own desire, but still so commanding.

She whined a moan, nodded quickly. Please please please!

"Use your words, Cat."

He squeezed her hips encouragingly, molding the flesh to his fingers.

"Yesss," she hissed, her words coming out as a shaky exhale that was barely louder than the rhythmic sound of his hips colliding against her behind.

Closer than close. It was right there. She bucked into him, so desperate and needy, and he gave her a sharp smack on the ass. There was absolutely nothing sweet about the way he fucked her, but it was sweet. So damn sweet she could almost scream, did scream. Her ass clapped against his hips like a pair of hands, her spine tingling with electricity, her skin gemmed with sweat. He fucked her fast, with mad precision, going balls-deep with each stroke and stretching her like a latex glove around his girth. Another thrust and it was there. She was there. That hot liquid pulse roaring within her, drowning, blinding, her pussy contracting around his tool.

"Fffuck, Daddy!"

Was that her? She hadn't really meant to say it this time. It just slipped out when her orgasm rumbled through her and flipped her upside down. By the time she had even registered what she said his hands were tightening around her. He leaned forward, his back shadowing hers, and his hand slipped beneath her, between her legs that were glazed by her own juices, seeking and finding that tight bundle of nerves. He grazed it with his fingers, petting and rubbing her swollen little clit until she was crying out and trembling in a back-to-back orgasm that had her entire body quivering.

It was beyond words, beyond vocabulary. He was her executioner. The owner of her pleasure, her body. Perhaps, even more. He groaned, and this sentiment clawed at him as well. There was only so much he could take, only so far he could hold back. Selina was just way too tight and he was way too thick. She clung and pulled and constricted around him, desperately trying to milk his cock, succeeding, and he came with her, growling his release into her ear.

His bestial grunt mixed together with her sobbing mewl, and then he was kissing at her fuck-mussed hair, the curve of her ear, her slender neck. She tilted her head into him and their lips met in a deep kiss, his hips still moving with slow, natural strokes into her pussy as he poured himself into her both literally and figuratively.

When his warmth was fully expended within her, they broke apart to gulp down air, hot and steamy, then met again in another hungry kiss that had his tongue sliding against hers. She hummed into him, enjoying the taste of him, the intimacy of the moment, until he finally pulled away and straightened up.

Their breathing slowed, her pussy still trembling with the aftershocks of their coupling, and his hands, wrapped tightly around her hips, gradually loosened. His manhood was still buried within her, but when she wiggled her ass back against him, he gave her one last thrust, kissed her shoulder, and pulled out.

They lay together afterwards, unspeaking. Words felt unnecessary, inadequate compared to the warmth of their bodies beside one another. It was the post-coital satisfaction of contented lovers, nourished by each other, by the essence of their unselfish ritual, so familiar and so inexhaustible. An endless well to draw from. About them, their feelings lay scattered like flower petals, vulnerable, but for a time neither cared. The day, the time, irrelevant. The room was dark, the air chilled, and from an uncovered window the moon cast its slanted light across the laminated wood flooring.

Selina pulled up one of the many sex drenched blankets tossed about the bed, shielding them from the cold. For further protection, and perhaps her own selfish desire, she pressed herself against him, resting her head within the nook of his shoulder. His hand settled atop her waist, warm against her skin, his fingers caressing at the faint curvature of her abs. She liked it, the silence. It was baptizing, a refreshingly pure moment after the fierce ceremony of lovemaking.

They bathed in it, that silence that heightens the body, the senses and instincts to such a keen and sensitive degree. No words, only feeling, elemental, perhaps abstract, perhaps not entirely recognized, but without the minor mistranslations that come from putting feelings into words, emotions into a detached, impersonal language that can never quite match the shuddering impact, the blistering paroxysms of lust, ardor, fever, and delight.

Content, they said nothing for a few minutes, until at last Selina broke the silence.

"I've got a theory." Her voice was quiet, her tone playful. Sweat glistened in a sheen at her temple.

Bruce said nothing, but his head shifted slightly so that he could better look at her, and his fingers came to a halt while hers took to twisting the little hairs upon his chest.

"Everyone thinks you're such a hard-ass, but deep down I think you're soft."

He breathed an airy laugh through his nose.

"I'm always soft for you, that's the damn problem."

She squirmed against him, her leg coiling around his.

"Just for me? Why is that?"

"Toxoplasmosis."

"Funny," she said, "but you're cuter when you're serious." Despite her words, a secret smile played at her lips.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied.

More silence. Eventually her eyes began to feel heavy.

"Normally I need sleeping meds to sleep..." Selina yawned, nuzzled herself further against his chest. "But I think I'll be fine tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm... might be sore in the morning though." She peeked up at him. "How about you?"

Bruce shook his head.

"I don't like taking pills if I don't absolutely need to."

"How do you sleep then? By tiring yourself out beating up bad guys?"

"I don't."

She snorted a laugh.

"Figures."

Bruce was beginning to grow used to this: lying in bed with Selina, his mind racing with all kinds of thoughts, most of them related to crime fighting, but all of them circling back to her.

The apartment was flooded in darkness, but a singular unobstructed window let in a tinge of moonlight, mixing with the green and blue lights of electrical devices strewn about the room. Outside, cars hummed, nearby yet so far away. Inside, the faint whirring of a ceiling fan, the soft, steady breathing of Selina next to him. There was a peace in this little 11x12 bedroom that he was unaccustomed to, a calm, relaxing contentment that, although alien, was becoming more and more familiar as the months went on. His instincts told him to leave, but part of him rebelled against such an idea.

Selina had been asleep for about an hour, her leg draped over his hip and her body pressed so close to his that nearly every inch of her skin was touching him. She was warm and soft, with hair that smelled of a fresh but gentle grapefruit and almond, while her body teased him with the seductive scent of sex and her Chanel 31 perfume.

If he got up to leave she would almost certainly awaken, but staying the night had particular implications that he wasn't quite ready to face. Like how he wanted to stay, or how he enjoyed her company for more than just sex to the point where he was hoping he would run into her every single night he went out. He told himself before that it was to help her reform, and while that was partially true, in reality that wasn't even the half of it. Not even close. One of those impish grins or smart-ass remarks from her and he was wrapped around her finger, unable to think straight.

There was a muffled shouting in the distance, and outside the bedroom door Lucy could be heard scratching herself, her nails clacking against the floor. Next to him, Selina groaned and stirred awake.

"Bat?"

"I'm still here," he said, running a hand over her hair and then down to rest at her hip.

She yawned, angling her mouth against his chest to hide it, then blinked up at him. Her hair was a mess, largely as a result of him pulling on it, but damn if she didn't look gorgeous regardless.

"I'm surprised you stayed," she said.

"I can go if you'd like."

"No no no," she murmured quickly, the sleep in her voice evident. "Don't go, baby."

Selina kissed his chest then climbed on top of him, the light from the window illuminating her body in a pale, bluish glow that highlighted the curves of her body. Her breasts were full and high atop her chest, crowned by little pink buds, and the feminine musculature of her arms, her stomach, and her thighs stood out like beautiful sculpture given life.

Her hips began to move, and he could feel that she was wet. "I dreamed about you," she husked, her voice more throaty than usual with the residual remnants of sleep.

"Oh? Should I be worried?" His lips twisted into a little smile, his heart beginning to race.

"Mmm..." Selina reciprocated his smile and ducked her head while she rocked against him, her hair falling loose around her face, her sex slick and already so wet against his shaft as she grinded against it. "Probably," she admitted, and there was a mischievous twinkle in those emerald eyes of hers when she glanced up at him.

The rocking of her hips became more forceful, her movement more desperate, her breath less steady, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching for her, gripping her lightly about the hips. She was drowsy and needy, struggling to get herself off by using his body, and something about this fact made him want her even more.

Wrapped around her finger.

Back and forth she grinded herself against him, each time coming closer and closer to slipping his cock inside of her. Her clit brushed against him and she bit her lip, a little whine escaping her.

"You feel so good," Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, but the lust in it dripped like honey.

"So do you," he said, groaning and giving her hip a little squeeze.

He could probably come just like this, no penetration, just the two of them rubbing against each other like it was their first time experiencing an orgasm. But it was like sweet torture, and she was tempting him with more every time she rocked against him, his tool sliding between the delicious wetness of her folds, coating him in her juices and driving him mad with the libertine desire to rut into her, wholly and fully. Selina, too, was becoming less focused, the drowsiness of sleep replaced by the insistent throb of her sex screaming at her to take this man, to take him and possess him.

He wanted.

She wanted.

So intensely.

His tip pushed into her and a delicate little Oh fluttered past her open lips, then she was rocking again, angling herself down as he canted up, filling her perfectly. They shared a chorus of pleasant gasps and moans, their hands suddenly restive. Her slender fingers rubbed at the muscled planes of his chest, feeling and brushing their way through the light forest of hair and seeking refuge on his shoulders, while a bulky hand, more masculine, less refined, caressed at her hips, his thumbs angled inward toward her navel and massaging in circles. Most prevalent of all, the firm grip of an insatiable hunger squeezing at them both.

Selina began to move again, no longer teasing, but riding his length in short bounces, slow and lazy but immensely gratifying. It was almost like a dream: so late at night, riding the Batman, being ridden by Catwoman, and it was so good that it was devastating, a disaster, but it was right. The friction of their joining, the heat of their bodies, her big ass thumping against his thighs, her greedy pussy constricting around him with every gyration of her pelvis. He ruined her when he rode her, but when she rode him it was just the opposite; she moved with the same lithe grace that he knew her for atop roofs and within alleys, pearls or historical artifacts clutched in her hands, tearing his self-control to pieces. But she liked that. It excited her, the knowledge that there was an untamed part of Batman, a secret part of him that only she knew and shared with him.

There was something beneath that severe stoicism, that frigid exterior, and Selina provided him with an outlet for it, a release. Her cunt clung to him, nectar drooling between them, her pores perspired, her muscles flexed and unflexed. She was beautiful atop him, all muscle under the softness, her breasts jiggling with every desperate bounce atop his cock. Her skin was flushed and her eyes were unfocused, but she looked up to him now and again, a sexy smile on her face and a moan on her lips, so enticing that he couldn't stop himself from bucking into her wetness, grabbing her ass and gracing each round cheek with a slap.

Selina hissed and her pussy rippled around him. She leaned forward, her clit dragging against him and making her whimper. She wouldn't last much longer, but neither would he.

She nuzzled into his neck, adored him with quick and imprecise open-mouthed kisses and sighs that feathered his skin. One of his hands moved up her back, tracing her spine, and she shivered.

"Are you close, baby?" She purred against his mouth, kissed him and tugged at his bottom lip, a naughty grin on her face.

Bruce growled, sending pleasant vibrations through her body, making that ache between her legs pulse and pulse. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her into a deep kiss, and as he pushed his tongue into her mouth he groaned, hips pumping up into her, one hand on the back of her head and the other on her ass. She loved it. His sounds, the firm grip on her hair and behind, the rumble of his chest against her chest, the way his tongue slid against hers and pushed so deep. She moaned and mewled and whined, deliriously, his cock pistoning into her, her tongue twisting with his. She could feel herself coming undone in his arms, her orgasm approaching fast, faster than a speeding bullet, and his was coming, too.

His body tensed, her pussy clamped, making him rumble like an engine, and their kiss broke as both of their orgasms came simultaneously. She cried out, once, and the hand on her head pulled them together, forehead on forehead, eyes locked and mouths agape. He wanted to look at her as she came, her pleasure a delightful subdivision of his own. She couldn't see his eyes past the whites of his cowl, but he could see hers: green fire dancing with passion, bewildered as if she couldn't quite comprehend the sensations quaking through her. Her hips were wild, rolling, bucking, spasming uncontrollably. Her breathing was quick but breathless, inhaling short gasps of air as if her body was too overloaded to function properly save for her cunt trying to milk his cock, rippling and squeezing desperately. So desperately.