Mr Asshole vs Mr Adorable

What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate him, I really do. I hate him so damn much, from his smug, cocky I'm-sexy-and-I-know-it grin to the tips of his perfectly shined shoes. So why in the name of FUCK am I sprawled out in the back of his limo with two of his porntastic fingers knuckle deep in my traitorous, dripping pussy? I want to tell him that I hate him, that he's a spoilt bastard who needs to have someone remind him that the world doesn't revolve around him every once in a while. Considering my current, half naked, gasping for air situation, I don't think I'm the most appropriate person to tell him that.

His lips are on my nipple, sucking, tugging, pulling, driving me fucking insane. At least five times today I wanted to super-glue those lips together and tell him to shut the hell up and let me do my job. In retrospect, I'm so glad I didn't. .. .at least the glue part. I did tell him to shut the hell up though, 16 times to be exact. Annoying prick.

"Tell me you like this," he demands, crossing his fingers inside of me and pumping even faster, his thumb brushing my clit with each powerful thrust. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but from the looks of things, I'm the one he's fucking, plus it feels too damn good for me to tell him to stop.

A whimper drops from my lips before I can stop it and the smug son-of-a-bitch chuckles before he kisses me. He fucking laughed at me, how arrogant is that? Like he was so fucking sure that he could make me feel like this. Still, he's got amazing lips and he knows how to use them.

"Tell me," he demands, moving his mouth back down to my chest and roughly tugging a nipple into his mouth. I clamp my lips shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction, even though a quick glance at him, fully dressed in his flawless suit as his fingers piston inside me, brushing my panties which he practically ripped to the side, is probably the hottest thing I've ever seen.

He gives a particularly rough suckle, probably trying to make me say it, but his plan backfires. Ha ha, mother-fucking HA! My orgasm hits me, damn near drowning me in glorious waves. I let out what is arguably the weirdest sound I've ever made in my life. It's something of a cross between a victorious chortle and a moan, with a bit of a gasp thrown in there. It's a pretty embarrasing sound, but I'm so glad he didn't get to make me beg, I couldn't care less right now.

"I can tell what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, detective," he whispers in my ear, fingers gently stroking my clit, prolonging the waves of pleasure that continue to wash over me. "But I'll have you begging before the night is up." He murmurs, with a well placed kiss under my ear.

"Keep dreaming, pretty boy," I say in a breathless voice, trying to catch my breath. "Now, get off me, I have to. .. " he cuts me off and stops me from redressing and leaving with what's probably the best kiss I've ever had in my life, but I'll never admit it.

"You don't have to do anything but stay here and let me show you how to relax," he whispers in my ear, hitching the skirt of my dress even higher around my waist. The fucking ridiculous -and I use this term lightly, due to the fact that it's barely there- dress that he sent to my apartment earlier today, claiming that his 'bodyguard' had to be appropriately dressed for the gala. Arrogant bastard.

"No Mitch, get the fuck off me!" I growl, pushing him off me. He sits back on his heels, looking at me with that cocky you-can't-resist-me look, even as I fix my dress with as much dignity as I can muster.

"Wait, are you really leaving?" he asks, his million dollar smile dropping as I pull my ridiculously high heels, compliments of the Mr-Screw-The-Detective-Dress-Code across from me. I absolutely refuse to look at him. He's hot as SIN and he fucking knows it. There's no way I'm looking at him, if I do, there's no way I'm going to be able to slip out of this limo and finish my job of keeping Mr Asshole Model safe.

"Can you really resist this?" he asks as I hear something that sounds suspiciously like fabric ripping, accompanied with what sounds like buttons falling to the floor. I squeeze my eyes shut, freezing with my fingers on the door handle. Please tell me he did not just rip his own mother fucking shirt off. That is sooo ego-centric, but so, so SO friggin' hot. I'm dying to look, dying to see if he really does look like those billboards or if its just that the airbrush artist is a genius. But I know if I do, I probably won't be able to control myself. The whole reason I'm in this mess is because of my shitty self control.

Ok, maybe I should explain a few things. First off, I'm a detective, and a damned good one at that, if I do say so myself, which is probably why the Chief picked me for this job. If she could have foreseen my total break-down of professional conduct, I'd have been sacked the minute she got the call from the Mayor.

That's another thing that pisses me off about him, the police department is not a fucking babysitting service. Just because some pretty boy model is scared that his ex-girlfriend is going to show up and make a scene at the ridiculously oh-la-la-fancy-schmancy-gala being thrown for his best friend's birthday is no reason to call the mayor and demand that half the police force play body-guard for the night.

From the minute I received the package addressed to 'Detective Sexy' I knew he was going to be trouble. I was just hanging out in my apartment, singing along with the radio, ironing the pantsuit I was going to wear to this thing when BAM, the first clue that this was no ordinary job arrived. After all, I was just supposed to be looking after the idiot, not pretending to be one of his bimbos, well, that plus the fact that I don't own any dresses and the last one I wore was to my high-school prom.

Female detectives aren't supposed to be pretty, we're supposed to be tough and efficient. I admit, that was part of the reason I finally cracked and put on that ridiculous dress. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to dress and act like a girl.. .. scratch that. .. woman.

At first, it was fun, walking down that red-carpet with a hot piece of eye-candy on my arm, pretending I was the celebrity instead of just another nameless detective. In reality, I was on HIS arm, holding on for dear life while he navigated through the sea of perfectly groomed people who wouldn't give me a second look if they passed me on the street in my usual detective garb. I confess, in that moment, if anything had happened, I would have been virtually useless. I'm a certifiable class five disaster in heels, anything taller than an inch and I'm a hot, unbalanced mess.

I have to give him credit thought, he angled himself in such a way that it wasn't blatantly obvious that I was on the verge of introducing my ass to the floor in the most embarrasing manner possible. The angle meant that he had to hold me really close though, a fact that I didn't mind at the time since he smelt oh-so-fucking-good. I can't be sure, but I don't think he caught me sniffing him several times.

He may have been a perfect gentleman at first, but as soon as we got inside, the irritating comments started. He started asking if I was wearing underwear, commenting that the dress was made for either thongs or nothing at all. Then he went on to say he could see my panty line. The son-of-a-bitch went so far as to trace it with his finger. After swatting his hands away, I told him to shut the hell up, hoping no one else noticed how red I was becoming.

I don't do thongs ok, I just don't. Kudos to the people that do, but I always feel like that stupid strip of fabric is giving me a wedgie and the urge to pull it out always wins the battle with my self-control. Also, commando was not an option, considering the fact that almost half of the people I see on a regular basis were at this thing, dressed up as fellow guests, service people, bathroom attendants. . . . you name it, we were on it. One slip-up, literally, would haunt me for the rest of my career, probably my life.

Mr-The-World-Revolves-Around-My-Tight-Ass both irritated and fascinated me for half the night. He kept asking me where I was hiding my gun and even though I kept ignoring the question, he eventually figured out that the tiny revolver was strapped to my inner thigh. The horizontal ribbing of the skirt of the dress disguised the holster strap, but did nothing to disguise it from his inquisitive, wandering, irritating, yet oh-so-smooth hands.

The only thing that kept me from telling him to go fuck himself and storming out of there, was the fact that I loved my job and couldn't handle being suspended. The fact that he was seriously hot also helped his case. I have to admit, it's a little flattering knowing that someone that fucking sexy wants to do the horizontal, sweaty tango with you.

It sounds a bit shallow, I know, but my pussy is a shallow bitch with a big appetite and she doesn't give a crap about what my head says. His self-confidence, annoying as it was, especially combined with his fucking HUGE ego, was also sort of a turn-on. Long story short, it only took a few oh-so-very-inappropriate touches and whispered compliments peppered between his annoying episodes before my lady bits were practically drooling.

Anyway, halfway through the night, my patience with Mr Sexy Jerk was wearing thin, my libido was through the roof and I was on the verge of calling it quits when he said he needed to get something from the limo and of course, the big baby couldn't go with anyone but me. After making sure it was safe for him to get in, I stood outside and waited for him. It was almost 15 minutes before I got fed up with waiting and yanked the door open to tell him to hurry the hell up, it was friggin' cold outside.

The words were barely out of my mouth before he was yanking me into the limo, lips pressed against mine, hands sliding up my thighs to undo my holster, tossing it to the side. To say I was confused was a major understatement, but given his behaviour earlier in the night, I was far from suprised.

I was so overwhelmed, and his lips felt so fucking amazing on mine, I found myself kissing him back, fingers tangling in his perfectly styled, yet slightly shaggy hair. His fingers dug into my ass, pulling my crotch against his. My pussy's scream of delight sent me hurtling back to reality. I pushed him away as hard as possible, sending him bouncing onto the limo seat, even as my pussy practically donned boxing gloves and screamed at me for breaking contact. He grinned at me as he reached out and pulled me to him again, gently this time, as though daring me to push him off again, something we both knew I could easily do.

With one arm secure around me, he reached down and cupped my most intimate parts. I swear, my pussy would have purred with happiness if she could. Traitorous, shallow bitch.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I gasped, my hips bucking against his hand as my downstairs brain took over.

"Something I've wanted to do from the moment I saw you," he replied, letting go of my waist to strum a thumb over my bottom lip. I wanted to be professional, to stop this from going any further, but I just had to know if he was as good as he seemed to think he was. Before I made the conscious decision to kiss him, my lips were on his. Plucking. Teasing. Tasting.

Anyway, one thing led to another which brings us back to my current predicament. Do I open the door and walk out, or do I turn around and see what the man who just blew my mind with his fingers looks like without a shirt?

Suddenly, I feel fingers, slowly, gently, sliding up my bare arms and up over my shoulders. Oh God, it would be so easy to walk out of here if his hands didn't feel so good on my skin. I can't stop the moan that escapes my lips as his fingers brush the sides of my neck, followed by his annoying, yet amazing lips.

Gentle nips on my skin make me worry my bottom lip as his fingers slide into my hair, easily finding the bobby pins that hold my hair in place. He pulls them out, tantalizingly slow, sending my dark hair flowing over my shoulders.

"Don't leave," he whispers in my ear, in an almost pleading tone, as he unzips my dress, the slow 'snick' of the zipper waaaaay more erotic than it should be.

"I . .. I have a job to do," I moan, even as I tilt my head to the side, to grant his fuck-tastic lips better access. His fingers slide over my skin, brushing my hair to the side as his nips become more aggressive and fuck me but I love it.

"Your job is to keep me safe," he murmurs against my neck as he eases my dress down, baring my breasts for the second time tonight. The soft material feels so good slipping down my body. It takes mere moments before I'm standing in front of him, fingers still on the door handle, dressed in just my dark blue, not-a-thong-pair-of-panties.

"And where could be safer?" he continues, pulling me into him, letting me feel his bare-chest against my naked back, letting me know that he had in fact, ripped his own shirt open earlier.

"Than in this spacious, comfy, luxurious, private limo?" he finishes, sliding his fingers into the sides of my panties and ripping the thin fabric like paper with his hands. What the fuck? How am I supposed to leave now? Aside from the obvious fact that I'm now stark naked, my skin is on fire, my pussy is dripping and I'm horny as fuck right now.

"Son-of-a-bitch," I growl as I spin around and push him into the plush seat and straddle his lap. There's nothing gentle in the kiss that I give him, he's returning it as best as he can, but I can tell he's struggling to gain control and I love how it makes me feel. His hands fist in my hair as I undo his belt buckle, almost ripping the probably-more-expensive-than-my-rent piece of leather out of the loops.

Oh yeah, who's driving who crazy now, huh? He moans in my mouth as I reach into his probably designer underwear and grasp his holy-FUCK-that's-huge cock. The fabric of his pants brushes my thighs as I balance on my knees and yank his pants halfway down his thighs. He helps me by raising his hips, even as his warm mouth latches onto an erect nipple.

I can't wait, I need him in me now. I prepare to sink down on him, but he grabs my hips and stops me just as my pussy brushes the tip of his cock. I wriggle my hips, trying to escape his grasp and engulf him but he's strong.

"Easy detective, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," he says, in a deep husky voice that makes my insides turn to mush. I glare at him as I fight his hands, trying to take what I want from him. His eyes slam shut and his mouth falls open in a silent gasp as his hands slip on my skin, slick with a thin layer of sweat. My ass slams into his thighs, forcing his cock into me as far into my welcoming pussy as it can go.

Mother fucker that hurt! But it's the good kind of pain, the pain that you want more of, the pain that says: I'm getting fucked good tonight. A low moan escapes me as my head falls in the crook of his neck. It feels so good, I'm almost afraid to move, lest this wonderful feeling disappear. I feel his fingers glide up my back, to quickly cup my chin and tilt my face, making me look at him.

"Are you ok?" he asks me, his face serious for the first time since I've met him, his eyes dark with lust but full of concern. What the hell? Does Mr. Jerk Model have a deeper side to him?

"You're fucking huge," drops from my lips before I can stop it. Dammit, now he's shooting that smug grin my way. He already knew that. I roll my eyes at him as I slowly raise myself up off his lap, until just the tip of his cock is still sheathed inside me. I push his shredded shirt and suit jacket off his shoulders as I slowly sink down on him again.

His body tenses as my lips glide over his neck. Fuck, he tastes good. He feels so damn good inside me, reaching and nudging every single sweet spot I possess, driving me abso-fucking-lutely crazy. I feel his muscular arms wrap around me, holding my body closer as I writhe and bounce in his lap, my head falling back as I feel that sweet, sweet high approach.

My entire body feels like its about to explode into a million pleasure soaked pieces and I know that he knows I'm close. I'm totally terrified that he's going to stop me, pull out or something and stop me from cumming, just to try to make me beg like he tried to earlier. He's just enough of a dick to do that. I move faster, trying to bring on my orgasm even faster.

To my suprise, he leans forward and claims a nipple with his lips as one of his hands drifts down between us to play with my clit, helping push me further along. I hear someone moaning and gasping, almost screaming with pleasure and it takes me a moment before I realise that it's me. A low grunt escapes him as my orgasm hits, flooding me with pleasure and making me squirm delightfully in his lap, my pussy gripping and squeezing, practically milking him.

He grabs my hips, wrapping his arms around my waist to hold me securely in place as I ride out my high.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually enjoyed that," he quips, gently stroking my back as I go limp in his arms.

"Screw you," I manage, my head in the crook of his neck as I try to catch my breath, enjoying the feel of his heaving chest under mine.

"Sweetheart, you just did," he chuckles as he kisses the side of my neck. The simple gesture is so gentle, so-almost-sweet it nearly cancels out his cocky tone.

"Asshole," I mutter, painfully aware of the fact that he's still hard inside me.

"Why do you hate me so much?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious as he lowers me onto my back, positioning himself over me without ever pulling out.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, looking up at him, increduloulsy.

"I've been nothing but nice to you," he frowns, looking confused as he gently squeezes my thighs, guiding them around his waist.

"Well, to start with, you think the world revolves around you," I say, trying not to feel bad about the wounded look that crosses his face.

"No I don't," he protests, as he slowly starts to pump his hips, carressing my insides in a most delicious manner. The feel of his torso curling and uncurling against my body is mesmerizing.

"Then explain this," I demand, choking back a moan.

"Well detective, this is what a man and a wo. .. " he starts with a smirk. Smart ass.

"Not this, this. I mean, this, the whole having half the police-force baby-sit you tonight just because you're scared of your ex," I say. He takes me totally by suprise as he leans down and kisses me, a rough, passionate kiss as he twines his fingers with mine and pin my hands down on either side of my head.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he whispers, a well placed thrust making my breath catch in my throat. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"There is no psycho ex," he admits, looking sheepish.

"What the fuck?" there are no words to express how shocked I am right now.

"I saw you on the news a few days ago and I haven't been able to get you out of my head since," he says, sending me even higher on the shock-o-meter. I remember that news cast. We had just caught a cat burglar who'd robbed almost 50 houses in one month. I had to give the public statement, seeing as I was lead detective on the case.

"I was too shy to approach you and I had to find some way to meet you," he says, stilling his hips as he gauges my expression.

"You. .. . shy?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. "You didn't seem too shy tonight when you were invading my personal space with your hands."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I was just so nervous, do you have any idea how fucking hot you looked in that dress?" he asks. "I kinda turn into a jerk when I'm nervous."

"I'll say," I joke as I push my hips towards his, trying to urge him to move again. His face lights up as he catches the hint and begins to pump me slowly again. He places a hot-opened mouthed kiss on my neck as I moan involuntarily and tip my head back.

"So you're not mad?" he asks, looking hopeful, his hair falling into his eyes, his dimples out in full force. What the hell? How could someone who was such an asshole earlier be so fucking adorable now? His fingers flex around mine as he waits for an answer. What the heck am I supposed to tell him when he's looking at me like that with those big-ass cute-as-FUCK puppy eyes? Yes, I'm pissed off as hell at you for dragging half the force out here tonight?

I can't say that, first of all, it would hurt his feelings. Second of all, it's not true. I'm super flattered that he would go to such lengths. Yes, my ego is being stroked (as well as my pussy) and I fucking like it. Don't judge me.

"I will be if you don't speed up," I say.

"Your wish is my command," he jokes, dipping his head to tease a nipple with his lips as he speeds up his powerful thrusts.

"Fuck!" I gasp as I feel that glorious high approaching. He lifts his head and clenches his teeth as his body strains and tenses above me. Holy crap, I never expected that, Mr Self-Centered-Je. .. Mitch, his name is Mitch, is actually trying to hold back his orgasm until I cum again.

"It's ok," I say, and it really is. He's already given me two orgasms, to force him to wait for me to have a third before he even has one is just pure greed. He stares down at me, almost blowing me away with the depth of emotion I see there. What the fuck is happening? Did some sparkly, blue fairy pop in when I wasn't looking and bippity-boppity-boo this emotionless self-centered-jerk into a real human?

That's all it takes. One look from him with those suprisingly soulful eyes and I feel it cascade over me. The most amazing orgasm I've ever had. My fingers are digging into the backs of his hands, my legs locked around his hips as I cry out something. I'm too far gone to have a clue what the fuck I just yelled, but I suspect it was probably his name.

I feel him stiffen above me, his muscles quivering as he grips my hands even tighter. He explodes inside me, eyes squeezed shut as a lone drop of sweat drips off his forehead onto my chest, moving as though in slow-mo. He collapses onto me, being careful to drop his weight on his elbows to avoid crushing me.

"So that was fun," I murmur after a few long moments, more to break the silence than anything.

"Go out with me this weekened," he says as he slowly eases out of me, planting a soft kiss on my chest before laying his head on me. "Please?" he adds, almost as an afterthought.

"Oh hell, why not," I reply, softly stroking his head.

"Really?" he asks, sounding suprised.

"Why do you sound so suprised?" I ask curiously before squealing in suprise as he flips us so that I'm lying on his chest.

"I just. .. I don't know. .. I uh," he stammers. Awww, Mr Cocky is suddenly all tongue-tied. Mr Asshole is suddenly Mr Adorable and it's fucking cute.

"Pick me up at 8 on Saturday," I say as I lean down to kiss him. "And this time, I get to pick out what I wear." I feel him smile against my lips as his fingers trail my back.

"I don't know, I kinda like what you're wearing now," he murmurs against my lips.

"Asshole," I laugh, shaking my head before kissing him again.