Dirty Louis Imagine ~Happy Birthday Lou~

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He cuts me off with a sharp kiss. His hand stings the back of my neck with condensation from the cold beer bottle, hugging me closer. He presses his lips to mine, pulling back enough to exhale before he uses his tongue to ease open my lips and slip inside my mouth. I hear the bottle drop as I shrink in his grip, his hands finding my sides and sliding down them to clasp my hips and align his body with mine. He pulls back after a moment. “Don’t raise your voice at me,” he warns.

“Don’t skip dinner and forget to call,” I smirk back.

A growl tugs up, guttural and raw, from the back of his throat. He pushes me back against the lip of the counter and grinds into me. His lips attack my neck, puckering around sections of skin that he tugs away with him. He laps up the warm skin before sucking on it, carrying deep red hickeys all the way to the surface. I moan against him, his crotch throbbing between my legs.

“Louis,” my eyes flutter closed.

“Mmm,” his eyes roam over a few of the love bites he made, fingertips drumming over their place.

“If you think this makes up for missing dinner again…” I slink away from him, watching his eyes peel in the process. I clamp my palms around his shoulder before I pace the tiles backwards.

“You’re still mad?” He scoffs.

“Let me think… yes.”

“What is it you’re mad about, huh?”

“You…” I fluster, “not paying attention to me.”

“Oh, really?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes,” I defend myself.

“Let me see,” he strides towards me, “you’re mad because I’m not paying enough attention to you lately,” he captures my hips in his hands and sways with me, “well, I can think of a solution for that, babe.”

My breath hitches in my throat, as I realise the danger in his eyes. They change from their lively brown to a slick and deep mahogany. He bares down on me, sliding his fingers in parallel lines along my skin in an effort to ease the hem of my t-shirt up.

“What might that be?” I half-whimper.

He presses his lips to mine, kissing finer than before. He teases the seam of my lips with his tongue before tracing their entire outline. He laces his lips over mine and turns his head to the side. I raise my hands to his hair and run my fingers through the strands, soft and yielding. He presses his fingers into flesh at the small of my back, tugging me closer. He grinds his erection against my core, a shot of pleasure flagging me.

“Lou,” I groan.

He takes his lips from mine, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go upstairs and wait for me on the bed, naked.”

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