Troye's pov
"Hot..." He grunts out, thrusting deep up my ass.
"Dirty..."
"Hot hot make up sex." He says, panting as he fucks me so good.
I whine in response, leaning over the worktop and pressing my face against it. My face contorts in a dirty pool of pleasure, my entire body jerking as I'm pounded into.
"So good." He utters.
"So good." I repeat him, holding fists up against the worktop.
I look over at the stove and clear my throat, "Five minutes."
He grunts, "I'm almost there."
"This is our fifth time we've had sex in the past twenty-four hours and you're still- oh fuck- still calling it make up sex." I find my words and spill them out, close to cumming all over the cabinets.
"Shh." He whispers, "Don't talk, just fuck."
"I can do tha-" I'm cut off as his hand covers my mouth.
I moan out and take his fingers into my mouth, sucking them as if they were his dick. That makes him growl out and fuck me harder, groaning and cumming in me. I feel a hand wrap around my dick and I cry out, pleasure becoming all too much. He jerks me with a fist oh-so-quickly until I'm stuttering out his name, cumming in his hand.
He pulls out of me gently and cleans us up, me pulling up my trousers and pulling on my suit jacket.
Yes, we just fucked in the kitchen again.
How? Well, I'll tell you.
half an hour ago:
"Ridicule!" Jacob yells, barging into the lounge from the stairs.
"Silly twat of a caravan held up traffic for miles to come!" He exclaims in anger.
"I'm going to be late for practice and I'm fucking horny!!" He shouts.
I smirk up at him from my place on the couch and sit up, "Horny, aye?"
No, I'm not proud.
But who's to say I can't fuck with my boyfriend all day every day? That's right, no one.
A kiss on the cheek from him and a hand to my ass, he says his salutations and departs from me.
