Hard Study After Hours Pt 03

It occurs to Anya that she still has all of her clothes on. She slowly pulls her camisole off, her pierced breasts finally free. The cool air of the library, mixed with the sweat already making trails down her creamy skin, causes goosebumps to break out across her torso. Her nipples turn to pebbles.

Dean's eyes drop down to her chest, his hungry gaze shifting into something more feral. His warm hand makes a trail up her soft stomach and takes one of her breasts in his hand, his thumb raking across her pert nipple.

"I want you." She says huskily, her throat starting to feel swollen from the fucking it took.

His eyes lift to meet hers

"Only you."

She squeezes her legs, forcing the head of his cock to penetrate. The feeling is incredible, the way the head pops past her opening, leaving them both moaning together. Dean leans forward, his forehead against hers, gasping, a little breathless. His hand comes up to cup the side of her face. Growling again, he grabs her hair, yanking her head back as he pounds inside her.

"Oh, FUCK!"

Her words, her need, her sudden control swallow him in one and he falls into her as deep as he can go. Her walls wrap around him, calling him deeper, and he pants hard into her shoulder, hands moving around to cup her ass and pull her in even closer. He takes a moment to consider this moment: him stripped completely naked, her topless, skirt hiked up, boots and gartered stockings wrapped around his waist like a pinup punk pornstar. Her tits shine with sweat and her piercings wink at him in the light with the promise of a thousand more nights spent writhing in heated need.

Still buried to the hilt, he grabs the back of her hair and steadies himself. Her eyes are so dilated they're almost black with lust, and he knows that nothing on this earth can stop what they're about to do to one another. He pants, says, "Then that's all there is."

And begins to fuck her. Hard. Deep. Long. Strokes. His cock goes deeper and deeper, like it's searching for something. Her heart? Her soul?

"You."

Deeper.

"Beautiful."

Deeper.

"Fucking!"

Deeper!

"Whore!"

He takes a beat to spit in her face, and then slaps her, disorienting her, before trading depth for fury. He fucks faster, plunging his cock in and out, his balls slapping up against her ass, the muscles on his arms standing out as one arm holds her by the back of the neck and the other twists her nipples and piercings. He slaps her tit, spits down on her clit, wraps both hands around her throat until her eyes roll back and she taps his elbow for release.

And more than anything else, he fucks his body and soul as far into her as he possibly can.

Anya is feeling dizzy from being choked, and the raw emotion that's carved into his features. She can't help but feel a tug on her heart.

Fuck, we've literally just met, how can we be so attracted to one another on such an animalistic level? This happens in books, not real life, right?

Contracting her walls, she clamps down on his dick as he pulls out, and relaxes as he thrusts back in. His spit sliding down her face. Loving every moment of his depraved manner.

This isn't the same man I shook hands with when I came in, this is a man starved, a man who acts like he hasn't touched a woman in years. A man who wants to be as one with someone who lights his soul on fire.

His eyes look black with a halo of green.

His tatted arm reaches down to grip her ass, while his other reaches up for her neck. His thumb caressing her reddening cheek. A grin makes its way to his beautiful full lips...

Lips I still need to feel on my pussy.

His thumb drops down and he puts pressure on either side of her carotid arteries, slowly the flow of blood to her head.

Euphoria takes her down, her body feeling light as a cloud, he pounds into her, over and over. Feeling every ridge of his cock stroking her opening, driving her absolutely mad. She needs more. He slowly releases his grip on her throat.

"Harder, Daddy..." She cries out. Rocking her hips in time with his ministrations, he slams home, one...two...three more times and she tumbles into an earthquake of a climax. Losing control of her movements, her body quakes against his. Dean pins her against the window as her body trembles with aftershocks. Tears make their way down her cheeks, overwhelmed with so many emotions and sensations.

"That's it, cum on Daddy's cock," he growls in her ear, feeling her grinding against him and riding out the orgasm. He kisses her tears and runs a thumb over her lips, which she instinctively licks and moves to suck on. He lets her for a moment as the orgasm rolls back, and then it's time for something he's been wanting to do this whole time. He pulls his cock free, eliciting a whine of displeasure from his freshly claimed Slut. But before she can voice any more protest, he sinks to his knees and pulls her furnace of a pussy to his mouth. Her shaking thighs slung over his shoulders, he presses the flat of his tongue up between her lips, before flicking her bejewelled clit. He starts on the outer area, kissing and nipping at her thighs and labia, then returns to torment her clit, sucking and lolling it on the tip of his tongue. His cock aches in a distracting way, so he strokes it while he continues to get his mouth acquainted with her warm, welcoming sex.

"Oh fuck..." she cries out as his tongue laps at her pussy. His teeth clicking against the barbell that adorns her clit. Her sex swollen from the countless orgasms. Seeing him on his knees like this makes her feel like a Queen... no, a Goddess. She's never had a Dom get on his knees to pleasure her and it's exhilarating.

Her skirt pulled up, gartered legs spread and draped over his shoulders, boots resting against his broad back. Everything about this moment feels right.

Appropriate? Probably not, but I don't care. I'm not sure I would even care if we got cau...

"Ahhh, fuck." Dean's tongue flicks her jewellery, causing her body to convulse. Not giving her any chance at recovering. His tongue is even more addictive than his fingers. The warmth, the pressure, the way he can curve it, pressing it between her lips and clit.

Fuck.

The feel of his stubble scraping against her already sensitive skin is invigorating. The way his teeth nips at her.

Gods, it's too much.

"Daddy, I'm about to cum..."

Dean growls with pleasure, letting go of his cock to pull her closer and press his mouth even harder against her. He starts going deeper, driving his tongue up into her hole and tasting her sweet, velvet walls as they quiver. He starts moaning into her, adding the vibration of his voice to what she's feeling as she gets closer. He presses his mouth so hard into her that his chin feels like it's sinking into her body, while his mouth assaults her clit. He sucks on it as hard as he can while rubbing it with his tongue, listening to the symphony of her moans and yelps. He's long since given up keeping her quiet. This world belongs to them now, and they'll fuck wherever they goddamn please, and if anyone hears or sees them, they should thank the both of them for the privilege.

As much as he's relishing eating Anya into oblivion, Dean's aching cock is demanding satisfaction, and he decides that once his Slut hits her next climax, it's time to finally let himself give her final reward.

He redoubles his efforts on her clit and pushes two fingers inside of her, curling them to rub at her g-spot and hopefully cause a complete breakdown. There's something so endearing about a slut that's orgasmed her own brains out of her ears. He wants to see this beautiful, educated, intelligent woman reduced to her base impulses.

He stops tongue fucking her just long enough to say, "Cum on Daddy's tongue. Show me what a fucking slut you are and cum on my face right here where anyone can see!"

That's all she needed to hear, Daddy commanding her to cum.

With her throat having been punished, her moan becomes a hoarse growl as she's hit by the force of the orgasm. One hand flying up to brace against the window, the other grasping his beautiful hair. Legs squeezing on either side of his head, she bucks against his mouth, lost from the ecstasy. Unable to tell up from down, right from left.

She cries out again as Dean takes her from one orgasm into another. The second one comes on so strong, she squirts all over Daddy's tongue.

Holy fuck...

Anya feels like she is drowning, her body feels heavy, her legs relaxing on his shoulders, thighs quivering like jell-o. Not quite numb, everything tingling, her nerves firing electrical pulses throughout her body. Fingers crackling like her sorceress in D&D.

It's official, he's ruined me, spoiled me. He's set the bar very high straight out the gate.

She giggles inwardly, so as not to ruin this moment.

Looking down, she sees Dean tilt his head back. The triumphant expression on his face and the curve of his lips is reminiscent of Dracula, satisfied after centuries of starvation. Time slows, as primal ecstasy pours off him in waves. She can feel it in the air that surrounds them. It's palpable.

"Was I a good slut, Daddy?" she asks in a low voice.

He laps up as much of her as he can while she writhes and squirts and cums, swallowing her juices and embracing the rise and fall of her hips. When she finally slows down, he pulls his soaked mouth away and looks up at her.

Her makeup is smeared across her face, her neck is bruised, her hair is a tangle of black mist, and her tits are heaving as she tries to replace the oxygen she lost screaming. And then she has the nerve to ask, while looking like that, "Was I a good slut Daddy?"

He grins and rises to meet her, kissing her mouth hard and running a hand over her warm, soft breast. He murmurs into her mouth, "You've been a perfect slut, darling. But you're not done yet. Now it's Daddy's turn to cum."

He tries to move quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her off the windowsill, which is sticky with her cum. He sets her on her shaky feet, then quickly grabs her hips and spins her around and bends her over. Now her hips are pressed against the windowsill, and her face is up against the glass.

Dean slides the underside of his cock up between her taut, round ass cheeks, and says, "Once I start, there won't be any stopping. So, tell me now: how do you want Daddy's cum?"

Fuck, I'm gonna have to start keeping some lube in my bag. I would love for him to cum in my ass. Next time though.

The feel of his breath warm on her ear, has her brain empty of anything but the two of them. Sweat drips down her skin. Her chest aches from her screams. The back of his fingers stroking up her arm has her drunk with lust. The feel of his cock between her cheeks makes her want him there that much more.

"While I would love to have you stretch out my ass, we don't have any proper lubricant. So that leaves my other option...I want to be on my knees, face down, ass in the air, wrists bound with your belt at my back, with you pounding my pussy into next year," she states bluntly.

She pushes her hips back against his cock and wiggles them side to side. Teasing him, she reaches her hand back between them and grabs the zipper of her skirt and pulls it down. Skirt now dropping to the floor between them.

Dean takes a step back and Anya bends forward to start unlacing her boots. Her beautiful, curvaceous ass framed by the garters of her stockings. No panties to block his view of her pussy coated in cum, dripping down her thighs. Anya looks over her shoulder as she takes off her boots to wink at Dean.

Dean arches an eyebrow and grins, stepping back to give her some room to prepare.

"That's such a specific request... Who am I to deny a woman when she knows exactly what she wants?"

He admires her ass while she undoes her boots, and when she looks back at him and winks, he almost pops on the spot. He chuckles and scoops up his pants. A stroke of luck allows him to slip the belt free in one, long, fluid movement. He can see that the sound of leather excites her as she quickly gets her boots off and puts them to the side. She stands up straight in garters and stockings and nothing else, and once again he's struck by the elemental beauty that underlies her voraciously lusty vibe. He approaches her, belt in hand, and kisses her slowly, deeply. They moan into one another's mouths, before breaking apart. He loops the belt over her shoulders, and says, "On your knees."

She sinks obediently as he gently presses down on her shoulders with the strap. Once down, she gives his still raging cock a playful lick, followed by a wicked grin. He smiles back, then orders, "Turn around."

She does so, until she's facing away, and the belt now lies across her throat.

"Face down, Slut."

"Yes, Daddy."

She starts to lower, and he goes with her, still holding the belt like a pair of reins around her throat. They sink in tandem, her placing her face down on the thin, scratchy carpet, and him kneeling behind her. He takes the belt away from her throat, and gets up close behind her, the length of his cock sliding along the outside of her pussy, the head resting below her clit. He reaches forward and grabs one of her hands, pulls it back, then the other. He winds the belt around her wrists, leaving a long lead for him to hold, which for now he leaves free. He savours this moment, running his hands over her hips, down her back, then using his nails as he brings his hands back down to her ass, leaving lines of red skin. He smacks her ass, the left cheek, then the right, and watches it tremble, feeling her pussy quivering over the top of his cock.

"Are you ready, Slut?"

"Yes, Daddy" she says, as he takes the belt and binds her wrists.

His hands touch her greedily. Caressing her hips, her back, and the feel of his nails leaving trails down her back has her craving more.

SMACK

his hand strikes her left cheek,

SMACK

now her right.

Fuck, I need more!!

His hot cock teasing her entrance, driving her wild.

Dean says, "Are you ready, Slut?"

"Fuck, yes, Daddy! Please don't make me wait any longer. I need you inside me!"

Resisting every urge to push her hips back and impale herself on his cock, this is his moment to be in control. She'll let her bratty side come out another time.

His hands grip her hips, his fingers indenting her soft flesh. Agonizingly slow, he pushes his cock through her opening. So slow, the feel of him sliding along her walls, drags out a feral moan from both of them. His pelvis meets her ass as he bottoms out, his cock scraping along her g-spot.

Fuck, I almost came just from that.

Dean observed. "Are you on any birth control?"

"Yes," Anya replies. Thankful for the implant.

"Good, we are definitely going to test its effectiveness." Dean leans down, hands braced on either side of her head and growls, "thoroughly."

"Thank you, Daddy, I would like that very much," Anya says sweetly. "Please fuck me now."

He grabs her by the back of her neck to lift her off the floor, growling deep in her ear, "You need to remember your place, Princess. You don't command Daddy, Daddy commands you. Be a good slut and remember that." He pushes her head back to the floor and holds her there as he slides out slowly, teasing her with the tip. Bobbing in and out, "Are you going to behave yourself, Slut?" he asks.

"Yes, Daddy." Anya answers.

Leaning down he whispers, "Good girl" and slams home.

Dean isn't gentle with fucking her this time. He is feral, an animal, claiming what is his. Her body aches, arching her back so he has access to the deepest parts of her. The rain still beating the windows, has a calming effect on her. Lightning strikes, lighting up the room. Wishing she could see Dean from this angle. All she can see is the rain battered windows and wall. Thunder booms, rattling the windows. Her heart, hammering in her chest. Her nipples scrape along the scratchy carpet, increasing her arousal. She contracts her walls around his cock, causing him to swear, "Fuck, Princess, can you do that at will?"

"Yes, Daddy" she replies, and squeezes again. Eliciting a moan this time.

There is a point at which the line between mind and body begins to blur. It can occur during moments of exhaustion, terror, under the influence of psychedelics.

Dean learned in that moment that it can also happen when you're bottoming out in a foul-mouthed, sexually depraved, curvaceous and nerdy goth with her hands behind her back, her eyes rolling in her skull and her drool pooling on the carpet. At first there was some thought

- harder, fuck her, slut, yes, fuck, more -

but after a while everything slipped away. He was panting, but he couldn't hear his breath. He was thrusting, but he couldn't feel his muscles. All he could feel was Anya wrapped so tightly around his cock he thought she might pull it off. He was vaguely aware of his balls slapping near her clit, of his own sweat and saliva dripping across her back, of the white velvet smoothness of her skin under his hands as he alternated between ripping into her surely bruising hips and cracking his palm across her shaking, flaming red ass.

But mostly it was her cunt, her pussy, her hole, her mouth, her throat, one wet, tight, impossibly deep tunnel that he was tumbling down as her screams and her growls

- fuck, the way she growled -

echoed down after him. He felt as though a world was rushing to meet his body, and when it hit, he would break. He couldn't see his body bent over hers, locked in a furious fuck of tendons, muscles, bared teeth and tangled hair, surrounded by the debris of their clothing. He couldn't see the sheer depth of de-evolved, uncivilized, animal behaviour they had engaged in, shed free of ego, conscience, shame.

All he saw was the molten world rushing to meet him.

There were no words. He just suddenly lurched forward and wrapped fingers around her throat, rearing her back, while instinctively gripping the belt straight to prevent her arms from bending the wrong way. He uttered a single, extraordinarily loud "A-HOAH" before he fell silent, shaking from head to toe as his balls contacted and his fire erupted from the root of his cock, travelling all the way up to pour into Anya's equally desperate body. His body pushed to go deeper, but their pubic bones were almost grinding together through their steaming flesh.

After what seemed an entire lifetime of orgasmic stasis, his cock was spent, and all systems broke down. He fell away from her, limp and small, tumbling into a heap at the bottom of a bookshelf. Lightning flashes across their figures, but the thunder had retreated. Only the rain remained, perhaps hoping to wash away their primordial violation of civil behaviour.

Anya is left reeling. On her knees, hands still bound behind her, she turns to see Dean on full display on the floor. He looks like a Greek hero, fallen in battle, taking his last feeble breaths. His breathing haggard, chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of his own explosive finish. The sweat glistens on his skin. The pitter patter of rain outside, brings her back to her senses.

Gods, we should probably clean up and take this elsewhere, someone surely will come to shoo us out.

He looks so at peace.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, Anya knee walks to Dean.

"Dean, think you could give me a hand?" wriggling her wrists so that he sees what she means.

"Fuck, of course! Let me take that off." he says, as he makes quick work of removing the belt from her wrists.

Now free from her restraints, Anya lays next to Dean, placing her head on his shoulder and hand over his chest. His heart beating ferociously beneath her fingers. Pushing herself up on her elbow, Anya looks into Dean's eyes, hand rising up to cup his cheek. Leaning down, she kisses him. Tenderly, with every intention of telling him how she wants no one else, no other man to claim her pleasure, no one else to touch her the way he has. How he has thoroughly ruined her for anyone else. How his words unlocked something deep inside her,

'I set you free.' You did more than that Dean. You made me feel alive for the first time in years. You showed me passion, fire, carnal desire, and never once judged me for my kinks. You are the puzzle piece that matches mine perfectly.