Twenty-One Ch. 02

"That's it, little birthday bitch," he said, driven by a lust now beyond control. "Dance for me. Dance the fucking night away. Let's see those tits fucking move." His grip on her throat was firm but controlled, that on her jaw much tighter. Every molecule in her being was agitated, subjected to a barrage of screwing she had only contemplated in her wildest moments of fantasy. I'm a fuck-doll. I'm a fucking fuck-doll ...

He slowed and so did her body, but she knew it wasn't time to rest. Not yet. "Get off me and lie on the bed," he instructed and she prised herself messily from the huge cock her cunt had finally accepted in its entirety. Panting and sweating she laid herself down beside him, eyes all over his similarly perspiring form, watching for his next move. Without conscious thought her fingers had already scrambled for her clitoris.

"God, you big fucker, you still not done with me?" It was half self-pity, half challenge. How she was still capable of the latter she wasn't sure.

Gavin parted her legs and guided one thigh, folding it up and across her chest so that her lower half was side-on, her pussy splayed. "Not yet, Brooke," he said, a hint of the former smile glancing across his face. He knelt at the junction of her legs and brought his cock to her cunt. "Not quite yet."

With exquisite slowness he thrust, hands pressing down on her buttock and thigh as the long reinstatement of his cock inside her was completed. "There," he said, all his muscled weight bearing down on her. "How deep is that?"

"Oh god ... Deep," she moaned. So, so deep. So thick. So fucking beautiful.

"Now you keep your eyes fixed on mine till I'm done, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I will."

It wasn't a problem. Where else could she look as he commenced another gloriously savage fucking, than into those dark eyes, fierce with intent? His knee levered into the bed and he gripped her, ass and thigh, his cock plunging, searching and driving to that sweet spot so deep inside her. His body towered magnificently above her, sweat matting his body hair and giving his musculature a gorgeous sheen. The face that had softened with charm and humour was set hard again with stony intent. All civility was stripped away leaving only the beast—and the beast shafted recklessly, concerned with nothing beyond selfish pleasure and egotistical demonstration. Feel it, his eyes were saying. Feel me own your ass.

"Having a happy birthday?" God, it was a wonder he could fuck so hard and still form coherent speech. With his repeat slamming into her she could barely manage a syllable.

"Ye-e-s-s-s..." If my pussy survives it.

"Sing it."

"Wh- What?"

"Sing yourself happy birthday."

Crazy hard-fucking bastard. She knew from the glare on his sweat-soaked face that he meant it, so she tried. Anything for this gorgeous shit-heel. "Happy birthday to me ..." Oh my fucking god, I'm gonna pass out. "Happy birthday to me." She could only gasp out the words, racked as she was with mighty fuck-strokes. "Happy birthday dear Broo-ooke ... Oh shit ... Fuck ... Happy birthday t - toooo meeeee."

"Good girl. Good fucking girl. Now I've got a present to deliver right inside you."

It was there in his face, in his tensed body, in the urgency of his pumping. His joy was assured. Brooke's pussy responded to the realisation and she thought she might come again without fingers or lips upon her. "Oh yeah. Do it. Shoot it inside me. Get yourself off inside me." So dirty and wanton. Such a bad girl. "Come inside me, please ..."

She watched his face transform, as he reached his crescendo, into a clench-jawed roar of fulfilment. His fingers tightened on her thigh enough to bruise and his cock jammed hard, but she gloried in his raging ecstasy. Deep inside her was the pulse and spasm as he opened and flooded her with his hot essence. Oh god ... All inside me, all inside. Thank fuck I'm on birth control ... His orgasm was extensive and he strained and shuddered like a weight-lifting Olympian till it was done. Then freed of his liquid burden, he exhaled in relief and pulled himself out of her.

"Fuck yes. It feels like my damn birthday."

Her pussy too felt relieved, yet simultaneously bereft. Her head was sinking to the cover, eyes fluttering in weariness, when his cock arrived at her lips, sticky and leaking and still hard. "Suck the last." She roused herself and obeyed, amazed to feel even dirtier than she already had, as his salty ooze flowed all over her tongue. I can taste him and I can taste me. God, that's so fucking naughty.

"See? Good girl to the last," she panted. He slid next to her and kissed her—somehow the last thing on which she'd have banked—his tongue swirling around her mouth regardless of his own seed inside there.

"Very good girl," he said. "Deserving of one more gift." His mouth moved on hers again, a hand softly kneading her breast. Then it was his mouth on her breast while his fingers explored her swollen cunt, bringing her back to the edge of orgasm with alacrity. He tongued her nipple and sucked, and ground his palm against her clit, fingers plundering her hole, till she peaked and thrashed under his attentions, yelling to the ceiling in a kind of mournful joy.

An unexpected gift indeed.

The climax had been wrung from an already flagging body and she subsided into the bed-cover's embrace at its end. Where Gavin had got to she was not sure, till his voice sounded from the other side of the suite. "Can I get you something to drink?"

So he was still talking to her after. Almost like the gentleman she had thought him a whole evening ago. "Water. Just water thanks." She lolled there until he brought her a mineral water from the minibar; then she pulled herself up and sat on the bed with her great naked hulk of a birthday defiler, letting the water cool her throat while he sipped a whiskey. God, look at him. This is the man just done fucking the hell out of me. Already it seemed unreal, though the ache in her pussy testified to the opposite.

"So," she inquired, having chugged her bottled water, "you gonna let me stay the night, or kick me out?"

Gavin studied his whiskey as he swilled it in the glass, then knocked it back in one. "You can stay. But if you chat and keep me awake, I'll bundle your ass into the corridor and throw your panties after you." He smiled at her and she laughed in response, though doubtfully.

I'll bet you've done that in your time to some poor girl.

"Shower time. Joining me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, in a moment." Weariness had fallen on Brooke from being fucked the kind of silly she had anticipated, that and her earlier intake of alcohol. Delightful though the joint shower sounded, she was horizontal on the bed by the time he'd left the bedroom. The splash of water-jets on male flesh was the last thing she heard as fatigue consumed her utterly.

She woke in darkness, swathed in bedding and the same man breathing slow and deep somewhere beside her. Holy crap, I'm in bed with him. The bastard actually put me to bed. Who'd have thought? Her head was throbbing mildly, her pussy significantly more so. The realisation that she was sharing sleeping-space with him, however, overrode both sensations.

She slid from the bed and into the en suite bathroom to pee, careful not to disturb her sleeping defiler. Alone in shadow, her water trickling against the porcelain, she wondered at this unexpected circumstance. Brooke had shinnied up the beanstalk and ended bunking with the giant. It scared her still, but thrilled her more.

Having dried herself she padded to the minibar for another water, butt-naked and relishing her womanhood, however sorely gained. For a moment she pulled aside a drape and let the lights of the city bathe her once more, as it had done when he held and pounded her there for the inspection of a city. Check me out all you want—I'm a bad man's bitch.

The villain in question was shifting in his sleep when she returned, a sheet clinging precariously about his midriff. She paused by the bedside, seized with temptation to draw back the covering so she could feast her gaze on his godlike magnificence, on the thick venous beast recumbent against his thigh. Caution restrained her. If he awoke and found the American girl stalking him, he might kick her butt out of his room like he'd threatened, that or thrash it all over again. Alternatively he might fuck her in a rage of lust and annoyance. It was an undeniably moistening prospect, but she was throbbing too much between navel and thigh to contemplate any of those possibilities. Deftly she slipped back under the covers and tried to settle. The proximity of her iron-bodied seducer made for uneasy slumber.

Dawn light was pooling on the thick carpet when she came fully conscious. She rolled over to see broad back and muscled buttocks rising from the bed. Gavin swung one-eighty and stood full-on, palming his newly erect cock. No—she hadn't imagined how huge and strong it was.

"Morning hard-ons are a bastard when there's a meeting to attend," he said. "Lucky I've got you here." He cast her a backward glance as he strolled to the en suite. "Come on. Get your naked self in the shower with me, or I'll spank you awake. I haven't got all day."

Oh god, here we go again. Brooke tumbled blearily from bed and hurried to the wet room where hot jets were already ricocheting off Gavin's frame. He turned to face her, snapping open the gel and commencing to soap his torso, phallus thrusting implacable and demanding from his groin. "Happy un-birthday, Brooke. What are you waiting for? I don't want this tenting my trousers while I'm mid-negotiations today, so get in here."

Brooke quailed before his cock. She didn't think she could take it so deep again. "Gavin, I'm ... I'm a bit sore."

"Are your hands sore? Or that pretty mouth?" He stared levelly, the scattering of dark hair on his chest and stomach matting as his palms soaped in circles.

Brooke smiled, heart and pussy warming as she went to him.

It was like she came fully awake on her knees the morning after her twenty-first birthday, lathering a huge erection that pulsed hard against her touch. Water fired from a dozen directions exploding against her skin, but all her focus in that torrent of wetness was on pleasuring Gavin, the bastard with the hot Brit accent.

"That's it, Brooke. Good girl. You know what to do, you're a natural." He was washing his hair, suds sluicing down his chest and over his stomach, foaming around the base of his extension. His voice was reserved, but his dick bulged fiercely. She pumped it smooth and even with long strokes, tickling the ball-sac with her tongue, watching the skin stretched taut over an etching of thick dark veins. She kissed the shaft and cradled his balls, squeezing and tugging, persisting in the regular jacking motion. Once tumbling water had rinsed him of soap, she stretched her lips around the fat head and sucked on it rhythmically, sustaining her manual attentions. Her left hand slithered downwards and attended to her escalating arousal as she sucked and stroked.

As she wanked that big British dick.

"That mouth really has come of age," he said, a familiar rawness in his voice. His hand closed on her head. "Come on, Brooke, keep going. Suck it out of me like a good girl. And don't even think of coming first, you little slut." So he knew in all his gathering excitement that her fingers were frantic between her own legs. She slowed and gave her concentration to him, till his hand pressed heavier and his balls clenched beneath her pumping fist. "Here we go. Don't you miss a drop."

With that, he blew his load.

Shit! Inundation. Sheer cheek-bloating inundation, hard-pumped cum squirting out of the corners of her mouth even as she began to gulp him down. Damn—drops missed. She filled up no sooner than she'd swallowed, losing count of how many times. Finally he abated and she drank his last, tongue twirling in a clean-up mission.

"See? I even provide breakfast." God, the bastard had promised room service a long time ago. Whatever had happened to that? Still, she wasn't complaining, and felt even less inclined to do so with the personal servicing that followed.

Gavin hooked his fingers under her arms and dragged her up, the other hand diving between her legs. "Now let me finish that off." Brooke went rigid as his finger-pads mashed on her clit. His sperm was still trickling from her chin and sliding hot down her throat. She burst into wild orgasm, squirming and squealing in his tight grip. She was all wetness—shower water drowning her body, while juice gushed from between her thighs, her sore cunt racked with the other kind of throb. The good kind. When she was done she buckled and slumped, but he bore her up till she could lean against him panting. "Go on, tell me I'm not a gentleman."

"I guess you are," she gasped, wilting into his frame. Then he pressed a wash-rose in her hand, gave her a stinging wet slap on her bum cheeks and shoved her aside to the tiles.

"Okay. Sponge that ass of yours and make it fast. I've got work to do and I need you gone."

She stood breathless and bereft in the wet-room, the jets washing her clean of cum and last night's mascara.

He was semi-dressed by the time she emerged towelling her hair, ensconced on the bed before a laptop spreadsheet. She gathered her crumpled clothes, ignoring the ruined tights. "So ..." She hardly cared, this grown-up girl, if she sounded sulky. "... You going to fuck her too?"

"Fuck who?" His eyes did not leave the screen.

"Whoever's threatening to give you a boner at your meeting."

"What? Oh, Karmen ... I'd certainly like to. Her fiancé might have something to say though."

"Never stopped you before, has it?"

"No. No, it hasn't." He sounded amused.

Jealousy writhed within Brooke's belly and she wanted to slap herself that it was there at all. She searched out her remaining scattered belongings and struggled into her heels. There were texts and a voicemail on her cell from poor Stacey. She owed her friend an explanation and a lunch somewhere nice. The other two girls could whistle if they wanted an apology, especially Kimber.

"Well," she said as casually as she could manage, "I guess I'll be making my own way out."

Gavin looked up at last from his work. "Oh, I called you a taxi."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Under McClain. Charged to my account. It'll be outside in ten minutes."

"Wow." She was surprised. "Mr Big-talk. Maybe you're not as bad as you pretend."

He laughed, briefly and loudly, like it was the funniest thing she could have said. "You're right. I'm a nice guy really and you're the only soul in the world who knows." The words made her flush with embarrassment and she was a girl all over again. "Seriously, Brooke, I like you. You were fun."

"But I'm not the birthday girl anymore, so get the fuck out?"

He rose from the bed, went to her and kissed her on the lips. A moment of something intangible and delicious passed between them. She was sure of it. "Now," he said, resting a finger gently on her chin, "get the fuck out."

On the way out of the Plaza she checked her cell phone properly; it was full of messages from Stacey, her friend's voice becoming more fraught with concern as the communications progressed.

Brooke called and Stacey replied within a couple of rings, her voice muddled with sleep and alcohol. "Brooke? Where the hell did you get to? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Thank God! I'm so mad at you!" Stacey's anger surfaced through the girl's cloudy mental state.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you with the terrible twosome all night."

"Not that ... I can cope with Kimber and Leandra. I didn't know what had happened to you, that guy could have done anything!"

Brooke could not help her response. "Oh god, Stace, he totally did."

"What?"

"Not in a bad way." Although try telling that to my butt-cheeks. "Look, I'm okay. Go sleep. Call me later and I'll buy you lunch—I owe you. Plus I want to tell you the whole story."

"Damn, you'd better buy me lunch." Stacey sounded mollified. "And the story better be a good one."

"Oh it is. Believe me."

"Well then I'm glad you had a slutty birthday. Although I hope you at least found out his name, dirty girl ..."

Minutes later Brooke stood kerbside, the grandeur of the New York Plaza and the hard-fucking night of her life both behind her. "Gavin." She murmured it under her breath. Her pussy and ass were sore from his cock and his palm respectively, her belly still awash with his cum.

"Cab for McClain?" the cabby asked, leaning out to her.

"What? Yeah. McClain." She eased herself gingerly into the back of the vehicle and shut the door.

Charge that to Gavin McClain. Bastard—and goddamn sexy motherfucker. Brooke settled her tender twenty-one-years-plus-one-day-old ass on the back seat, hugged herself and smiled.

What a lot of growing up a girl could do in one night—providing of course she had the right company.

The End

Gavin Returns in Extra-Curricular