Blake rides your cock faster as you both fuck each other hard

Blake's hips moved with a rhythm that was both punishing and deliberate, a stark contrast to the hesitant, submissive girl who had been on her knees moments before. She wasn't just riding you; she was using you, her body a tool for her own pleasure and her own agenda. Her blue eyes, locked on yours, were no longer just calculating. They were burning with a fierce, competitive fire, a desire not just to match you, but to surpass you.

"You want a new tradition?" she gasped, her voice a raw, husky whisper as she slammed down onto you, her hips grinding in a way that made your vision blur. "Then let's make one. The top student doesn't just take what she wants. She takes it from the best. And she makes him beg for more."

She leaned forward, her hands pressing into your chest, her nails digging into your skin. Her wings, still attached to her back, flared out, a magnificent, intimidating canopy that framed her body. The feathers brushed against your legs, a soft, teasing caress that was at odds with the brutal, demanding rhythm of her hips.

"You thought you could use me, John?" she panted, her breath hot against your ear. "You thought my mind, my connections, were just another resource for you to exploit? You were right. But you forgot one thing."

She slowed her movements, a slow, torturous grind that had you arching your back, a groan escaping your lips despite yourself. "A resource isn't just something you take. It's something you have to control. And right now," she said, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk, "I'm in control."

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across your face, a predator's grin that acknowledged the thrill of the challenge. You had expected a broken toy, a weeping mess of shame and confusion. Instead, you had found an equal. A rival. And it was the most arousing thing you had ever experienced.

"You think this is control?" you growled, your voice a low, rumbling purr. "This is just foreplay."

Your hands shot out, gripping her hips with an iron grip that stopped her movements mid-thrust. She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. You held her there for a moment, letting the anticipation build, letting her feel the raw, unbridled power coiling in your muscles.

Then, you fucked her back. You drove your hips up, meeting her next downward thrust with a brutal, punishing force that stole her breath. You set a new pace, a relentless, demanding rhythm that was as much about domination as it was about pleasure. You were no longer a passive participant in her game. You were the one writing the rules.

"You wanted to be a resource?" you growled, your hands digging into her soft flesh, your fingers leaving bruises that would be a testament to this night. "Fine. Let's see how much pressure you can take."

She responded in kind, her body meeting yours, a clash of titans. The room was filled with the sounds of your fucking, the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the harsh, ragged gasps of two people locked in a battle for supremacy. Her wings beat against the air, a frantic, chaotic rhythm that mirrored the storm raging between you.

"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her head thrown back, her blonde hair a wild, sweat-soaked halo around her face. "Marcus was bigger. Stronger."

The lie was a transparent, desperate attempt to goad you, and it was delicious. You chuckled, a dark, triumphant sound. "Marcus was a boy playing a man's game," you rumbled, your hips pistoning, driving deeper, harder. "I'm the one who owns the game."

You could feel her body tensing, her muscles tightening as her orgasm began to build. She was trying to hold back, trying to deny you the satisfaction of making her cum. But you could feel the tremors running through her, the way her pussy was clenching around your cock, a desperate, involuntary betrayal of her body's needs.

"Cum for me," you commanded, your voice a low, dominant growl. "Cum for me, and admit that I'm the best. Admit that I'm the one in control."

"Never," she gasped, her body arching, her wings flaring out in a last, desperate act of defiance.

You smirked, a slow, triumphant smirk. You reached down, your thumb finding her clit, your touch a masterful, knowing stroke that was her undoing. But she continues to fight it.

Blake doesn't cum, she continues to fight it. Her face was a mask of concentration and defiance, sweat beading on her brow and tracing paths down her temples. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight, a spring fighting against its inevitable release. She was fighting you with a single-minded focus, trying to turn this primal act into a war of attrition, to prove her will was stronger than her biology.

Her nails, which had been digging into your chest, now raked down your torso, leaving red, angry furrows in their wake. Not in passion, but in a desperate attempt to inflict pain, to distract you, to break your rhythm. It was a bold, stupid move.

You didn't flinch. You didn't even grunt. The pain was a minor annoyance. You fuck her harder. Her pussy so fucking tight as you fight yourself. You didn't want to cum first.

https://www.patreon.com/JasonMaster