Chapter Text
“Patty. Earth to Patty, you in there?” Wanda’s snapping fingers appeared in front of Patricia’s face, and she jumped back with a shrill, surprised squeak. Patty felt her cheeks heat as her friends laughed at her shock. She couldn’t blame them—she’d zoned out, staring unseeingly at traffic as they waited in line. She took a few steps forward into the space that had cleared up in front of her, and the irritated murmurs further down the line quieted.
“Sorry. I spaced. Moving up.”
“We noticed,” Wanda replied, laughing. Patricia watched as her friend dug around inside her purse for first a cigarette, and then a lighter. “It’s gonna be worth the wait, I promise.”
Behind her, America snorted. “Yeah, whatever. That’s what you said about Two-Five-Three, and the music was wack as fuck .”
“What, so I’m not entitled to one flop? Look at this line and then tell me I’m just talking shit,” She snapped back, exhaling smoke from her nostrils. Her red lipstick had left a perfect ring on the filter, leaving smudges on her pale fingers as she talked. “Besides, what else were you guys going to do tonight? Play yahtzee?”
“I’m offended you’d suggest that,” Patty replied, sniffing. “This is an Uno house, goddamn you.” She poked her friend in the shoulder accusingly. “This blasphemy? I won’t hear it.”
They were only a few bodies away from the front of the line, which Patricia was grateful for. It was true that Wanda usually had an eye for the best, most interesting venues in the city, but waiting in line to get inside was never particularly fun. Patricia shifted from foot to foot, her borrowed heels clacking on the pavement. Wanda had insisted on them, of course.
The man-killers, Patricia thought amusedly, snickering. She glanced down at them, and wiggled her toes. They were about four inches too high for her, but they looked amazing, the gladiator style leather wrapping halfway up her calf. She wrapped a lock of her kinky black hair around her finger before releasing it—the braidout that she’d planned had come out perfectly, her thick coils framing her face neatly.
“Next.”
Music boomed loudly in ears as they were ushered inside by the large bouncer, shedding their coats at the door. The base was so deep that her chest vibrated with it, and suddenly she didn’t regret donning the skimpy, milkmaid style dress that America had talked her into buying just weeks before. The air inside was thick and heavy, and the club was packed with bodies. She could see now why there had been so many people in line, including them. The lighting was tinted lavender, and several chandeliers of differing lengths hung from the arched, vaulted cielling. The building clearly used to be some sort of church that had been converted into a nightclub, and they’d kept some of the more religious ostentation, like the stained glass windows.
One of her friends tapped her shoulder, and Patty turned to face them.
“Bar,” Wanda mouthed, pointing behind her. The bar was on the far side of the massive room, near some very sleek looking booths. Patricia picked her way across the dance floor after her friends, joining them at the bar. People were in constant motion around them, jostling them as they waited for the bartender’s attention. The music wasn’t quite so loud over here, and they could hear one another if they were practically shouting.
“Shots?” America asked, and Patricia gave her the thumbs up. They were here to celebrate after all, and she was feeling ready to let loose. America had a propensity for tequila, which Patty normally avoided. A particularly nasty memory from sophomore year served as a reminder not to imbibe too much of that particular poison—but tonight, she was going to disregard that warning. Just for a little while, anyway.
When their drinks finally came, Patty linked arms with her two friends at the elbow, each of them holding a shot glass to another girl’s lips.
“What are we toasting?” Wanda asked, grinning at them. “I’m accepting suggestions.”
“Being fucking done with school?” America raised an eyebrow sarcastically. “No greater joy than never having to write another goddamn paper. Or log onto j-stor ever again.”
“Not finding jobs,” Patricia supplied dryly, remembering just how lacking her job search had been going prior to and now after graduation. Can’t forget that frickin’ gem. “Oh wait, no. Working retail for the next six years while I try desperately to break into my field.”
“That’s… way too realistic Pat,” America replied dryly, snickering.
With that, they tipped the shot glasses up, swallowing down the burning liquid. Patricia sputtered, clearing her throat as she set her glass back down on the bar face down. It had been a little over week since graduation, and none of them really had the faintest idea what came next. America had a job offer in Philly—some programming thing, but she hadn’t given them her notice yet, or clued any of them in on whether or not she’d be taking it. And Wanda was content to freelance until some graphic design company or other picked her up.
Like her friends, Patricia hadn’t really picked a direction. The Museum of Natural History still hadn’t gotten back to her about her application, though her professor had said he’d put in a good word for her. She still had her job at the clothing store, where she’d coincidentally met America and by way of her, Wanda—so it wasn’t as though she couldn’t tread water for a little while.
It was a rather strange feeling, a little like standing on the edge of a cliff. There were so many options, so many routes forward… But also a sheer fucking drop, and spiky, painful death if she so much as stumbled on her way down.
America pressed another shot into Patricia’s hands, distracting her from her thoughts. She threw it back, closing her eyes and wrinkling her nose as she drank it all down in one swallow. She coughed a little before reaching for one of the lime slices the bartender had prepared for them, along with a dash of salt on the tip of her finger. As she licked it, her gaze drifted up the bar idly, only for ice to run down her spine as she locked eyes with someone.
His bright blue eyes wrinkled at the corners as he grinned at her, exposing perfectly straight, white teeth. Patty’s eyes widened. Oh fuck. Without thinking, she stepped aside rapidly, blocking eye contact with Wanda’s head awkwardly. She must have looked stricken, because Wanda stared at her, her expression confused.
“Patty what’s the problem? What’s up?” She turned this way and that, craning her neck as Patricia tried to stop her.
“Nothing, oh christ , Wanda! Seriously, nothing—” Her cheeks were hot. It was already embarrassing having hidden, but when Wanda suddenly snapped back to attention, a sly smile on her face, Patricia felt her mortification double.
“I see you’ve spotted your first kill of the night,” She replied coyly, twirling a lock of her hair. America was laughing behind her, and for the life of her, Patricia couldn’t calm the burning in her cheeks. He was handsome—blonde, chiseled features, a playful smile on his lips. She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Ooh, and he’s a little older, too. I always knew you liked them… mature.”
“My what ?” She snapped. “We’ve been here like ten minutes.” Patricia hoped the disdain in her voice was more convincing than it felt. She’d reacted like a little kid—and she still was, hiding behind Wanda so that the handsome stranger couldn’t get another good look at her face. In part because of her own frustration at her shy reaction, and mainly because it couldn’t have been her that he was looking at. Patricia took a deep breath and straightened her back.
“He’s totally looking at you.” America murmured, digging her elbow into Patty’s sternum. She refused to look for a moment, steeling herself. How embarrassing would it be if he was making eyes at some girl behind her? She peeked around Wanda’s smiling face, and he was leaned against the bar, his chin on his hand as he chuckled. He raised a drink to his lips before putting it down to waggle his fingers at her. Patricia gulped.
“Oh shit he is .” She replied through clenched teeth as she smiled back. “Oh fuck.” He really was looking at her. As she’d poked her head around Wanda’s, their eyes had met again. He’d hidden his face with his hand and then peeked around it, still grinning cheekily at her. Patricia wasn’t sure whether to feel mortified or laugh out loud—obviously he’d seen her shennanigans and found them amusing.
Patricia grabbed Wanda’s shot, ignoring the latter’s loud complaint and downed it. “Hey! Those are seven bucks a piece, Patty!” She shrilled, slapping at her hand. “You better venmo me tomorrow.”
“Yeah, we’ll subtract last girl’s night from it,” Patricia quipped, enjoying the embarrassed flush that flooded her friend’s cheeks. Wanda held her hands up—a truce. Patricia accepted it with a giggle and a nod. “‘Merica, is he still…?” Patricia asked nervously. She’d turned to face the bar, so that he wouldn’t be in her field of vision. It helped that she was flanked on either side by friends who could scope out the scene for her, rather than her having to risk another embarrassing moment.
“A hundred percent. He’s a pretty one, Patty. You’ve got good taste, I always said that.”
“How would you know? I thought you said I was your type,” Patricia feigned offense at her friend, who sniggered, slapping her bare shoulder lightly.
“I’ve still got eyes. I don’t have to like avocados to know how to make guacamole.” America waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Patricia snorted.
“Yeah, we all know how much you like to smash.” Wanda quipped, signaling to the bartender. America tried to look upset, but the three of them devolved into tipsy giggles before too long. When the bartender finally made his way over to them, he was already holding a drink. He motioned to Patricia, who eyed it suspiciously.
“Dark and stormy. Courtesy of the gentleman in the red shirt.” Her stomach tightened nervously, though she accepted the drink with careful fingers. He pointed across the bar to the face Patricia already knew—the blond.
He waved again, the cocky tilt of his chin sparking both attraction and irritation in Patricia’s mind. Should I go over? Should I say anything? Surely it would be rude to at least not say “thank you”, wouldn’t it? Patty had never been a big one for clubs—it was much more Wanda’s scene than hers, but it was fun to dress up, to drink and let loose, to dance. But there was a social etiquette involved that she didn’t quite grasp a hundred percent. As she stood there waffling, her choice was made for her. The man stood, his massive bulk rising gracefully from the barstool as he made his way toward them.
Wanda, ever gracious, practically spat out her drink. “Oh shit, your kill’s coming over.”
“Stop calling him that, he’s not my anything . He bought me a drink after I hid from him like a ten year old.” Patty’s cheeks were still burning, and she took a swallow of the drink he’d sent over. Damn it, it was good. He was tall, and had a foot on her easily, with wavy blond hair swept back into a loose knot at the base of his head. The red button up he wore was rolled up at the cuff, and tucked into his well tailored dress pants. Patricia realized she was eyeing him hungrily, and tore her gaze away, pretending to make conversation with her friends as he approached.
“I see you got my drink.” His voice was deep, and somehow easy to hear over the thumping baseline behind them.
“It’s all you, girl.” America whispered, squeezing her arm as she and Wanda slipped away.
“Yeah, text us if you get into any trouble. Not good trouble. Bad trouble.” Wanda winked at her, grinning as Patricia sputtered.
“I-um. Yeah. Thank you for that,” She replied lamely, cursing her awkwardness. “It’s good.”
“I’m sorry if I weirded you out, or anything,” he replied, chuckling. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her disarmingly. “I couldn’t help but notice a pretty girl.”
In spite of herself, Patricia snorted. “I think there are a lot of pretty girls here. Did they get drinks too?” She asked, regretting the snarky words as soon as they left her lips. He laughed though, shrugging his massive shoulders.
“I don’t think I could afford it, honestly,” He joked easily. His laughter was a pleasant baritone, vibrating in Patty’s chest as they spoke. He leaned over her, his bright blue eyes interestedly studying her face. “But something tells me I made a good call.” He winked at her, before draining the rest of his own glass. “I’m Thor.” He held out a massive hand for her to shake. Patricia found herself smiling.
“Thor? I’m Patricia. Patty.” She corrected, shaking her head. “That’s some name.” She said, taking another swallow of her dark and stormy.
“Tell me about it. When your dad’s name is Odin, you’ve only got but so many options for your kids.” He leaned back against the bar, and Patricia could feel his gaze on her like a physical weight. God I’m terrible at small talk.
“I’m pretty sure my parents just drew names out of a hat if it makes you feel better,” Patty replied, patting his large hand in mock sympathy. “I was almost Phyllis.” She drained her glass, before setting it on the bartop.
“Thank God you weren’t.” He said smoothly. “Can I get you another drink, Patricia?”
Patty was already feeling the lightheaded dizziness setting in from her first three shots, and she knew she was something of a lightweight. She could practically hear Wanda’s sarcastic tone from here. How many drinks does it take to get Patty hammered? Four. One for her, and three for you while you wait on her to finish the first one.
“I think I’m good for now,” Patty shook her head, though she tried to smile appreciatively at him. “I was actually thinking maybe I’d go dance.” Patricia was just making conversation—trying to cover up the nervousness she felt. She’d spent the majority of her time at school knuckling down and studying, much to the chagrin of her friends. Maybe if I’d gone to more parties I wouldn’t be standing here grinning like an idiot, running out of things to say.
“Now that’s an idea,” He moved closer, sliding a warm hand around her waist. Patricia started at the contact, a little gasp escaping her lips. “Mind if I join you?” His eyes glittered in the low light, and he tugged her a little closer, his large palm splaying almost the entire distance from her waist to the curve of her hip. Oh fuck yes.
“Sure! I mean yeah.” He followed her towards the dance floor, his hand loose around her own. Patricia caught a glimpse of America and Wanda pumping their fists and flashing her thumbs up as she passed. They were always urging her to loosen up, to live a little, so she was sure they were pleased to see her cutting loose a bit.
Behind her, she could feel Thor’s body pressing closer to her own as they navigated the dance floor, looking for space. He was so tall, she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eyes as the music pulsed around them. He was liberal with his hands, though Patty found she didn’t really mind the feel of his hands roaming, and they didn’t stray too far.
As the music changed from electro-pop to hip hop, he spun her, pressing his front to her back and placing a searing kiss on the side of her throat. “I knew you would be a good dancer,” He murmured, his lips just brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke. Patricia couldn’t help the shudder that traveled down her spine at the heat of his words.
He was touching her so eagerly, his hands hungry for any inch of exposed flesh he could get away with fondling. It was a heady feeling, having a man like that so worked up over her.
“I like to think so.” She wasn’t sure where she found the confidence—probably the alcohol sitting warmly in her belly—but Patricia ground the soft curve of her ass against him, and both felt and heard him groan softly, his hands tightening around her hips. His fingers flexed against her briefly, before he released her.
“You can do that any time you feel like it. No need to ask permission.” He laughed as he spoke, but Patricia could tell he wasn’t really joking. The sturdy, possessive grip on her body betrayed that. They danced together for a few more songs, the crowd ebbing and flowing around them like the tide. Before too long, Thor’s smooth lips were pressed against the curve of her ear again, his breath drawing goosebumps up to the surface of her skin.
“I was thinking maybe you might come back to my place for a night cap. If you want.” His tone was flippant, but there was real interest in it. Before she could stop herself, Patricia found herself nodding.
“Why not?” The words fell from her lips unchecked. “Let me just let my friends know… Come together, leave together and all that.” Patty reached into her purse, digging for her phone. As it turned out, she’d missed three texts from them in the group-chat already, one signifying that Wanda had already left with someone, and that America was chatting up some girl at the bar.
P: Going home with Thor. Call the cops if I don’t come home :P
W: Fuck 12! If you go missing we’re going Saw on that motherfucker. Love ya!
“Got permission?” He drawled, and Patricia’s cheeks colored.
“Just trying to be responsible.” She groused, and he held his hands up in apology.
“No, I get it. I promise I’ll return you in one piece.” The cocky grin from earlier was back on his full lips, and he ran his tongue across his canines teasingly. “Or as many pieces as you’d like.”
His mouth was on hers before they’d even made it all the way out of the club, pressing her against the stone exterior of the building as they waited for a cab. His hands were hot and insistent, skirting the hem of her dress as he palmed her thigh. They felt searing hot against her flesh in the frigid night air, and a throaty moan escaped Patricia’s lips unbidden.
“Is this included in the nightcap or is this a specialty service?” She asked breathily, and he growled against her throat in response, before sucking the flesh at the juncture between her neck and shoulder into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth.
“Definitely specialty.”
“Uh, sir? The valet…. he um, he has your car.” The timid voice of one of the parking assistants made Patricia’s face burn as she abruptly remembered that they were in public —though this didn’t seem to stop Thor, whose hands would not be deterred. He didn’t even turn from Patty, who could feel herself dying of mortification over and over again with each passing second. He stuck his hand out impatiently without looking.
“Keys.” The valet dropped them into his hand and raced away, while Thor continued peppering kisses on Patricia’s bruised throat. “Fuck. I don’t want to stop touching you,” He admitted hotly, the words a growl. Patricia’s head was swimming with heady pleasure. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, every thought was underscored by the hot need he’d lit inside of her.
She was embarrassed, she wanted him to stop—and at the same moment, she didn’t. She was enjoying his attention, the raw need he was touching her with. Before Patricia had to make a decision, one was made for her, as Thor pulled away, his eyes cloudy and pupils dark.
“Let’s go.”
—
His apartment was nice— nice being the most extreme understatement I could possibly make. When he’d steered her towards his car, she’d caught the look of enjoyment that had crossed his face at the shock that colored her features—after all, it was her first time seeing a Jaguar in person. She was sure he’d gotten the same look when they’d exited the elevator into his penthouse suite.
Thor kicked his shoes off in the entryway, motioning for Patricia to follow after him. The foyer was narrow, but opened up into a massive living and dining room, with floor to ceiling windows that made Patty just a little nervous, though the view was… amazing.
She found herself padding across the hardwood floors to get a better look. The penthouse apartment overlooked Central Park, and the noise and activity on all the sidewalks melded together to create a storybook photo of lights against the inky dark sky.
“Best view in the city,” Thor said softly, his arms closing about her from behind. She hadn’t noticed him sneaking up on her. Patricia nodded.
“I’ve never seen it like this.” It was true—she’d grown up here, worked here, gone to school here—but she’d never seen the city from above before—not like this. With one hand, he produced a wine glass, filled just over halfway. Patricia took it gingerly, careful not to spill any. She had a feeling his clothes probably cost about half her rent, and she didn’t much feel like shelling out to replace them.
“Then let’s make it better. You want to see the balcony?” He asked, giving her hip one last affectionate squeeze before moving away. He’s so graceful for such a big guy, Patricia thought absently as she followed him across the living room. He opened the sliding door for her, stepping out of the way so she could step outside. It was chilly and windy this high up, but he had been right—it was even better outside.
Patricia was grateful when he positioned his warm body behind hers, leaning over her. She wasn’t much into wine, but whatever he’d picked was fruity and sweet, easy to drink.
“Wow.” Good one, Patty. A real fucking wordsmith. “It’s amazing. I’m kind of jealous you get to see this every day.” His apartment was easily four or five times the size of her own—and that was just the first floor. Patricia had spied a set of stairs leading up, and she had a feeling there was far more apartment than she’d seen.
“It’s definitely one of the perks of living here,” He purred. “You want me to give you a tour?” His breath was hot on the back of her neck, and Patricia had a feeling the tour was going to end abruptly at the bedroom. The thought send another shiver down her back, but this time it wasn’t because of the cold. It was hard not to feel out of her element. An attractive, older guy had taken an interest in her—more than anyone she could think of in the past six months.
“I’d love one.”
He led her back inside, pointing at the kitchen and living room. Another door led to an office, and a bathroom. Thor made a beeline for the stairs, ushering Patricia up ahead of him. “I won’t look, I promise.” He replied cheekily when she smoothed the back of her skirt down. Thor, for his part didn’t seem bothered by the age difference, grinning up at her wolfishly when she peeked down at him.
“That was a very good lie,” Patty replied snarkily, and he chuckled. “It didn’t sound rehearsed at all.”
“I’m willing to wait for the main course. Don’t want to spoil my dinner.”
Heat flooded the apex of her thighs, but to her credit, Patricia kept it together, her steps steady. There were three bedrooms up here, but he didn’t bother showing her two of them, leading her straight to his room. The floors were all hardwood, and he had an absolutely massive bed— an alaskan king, maybe? — set against the left wall. There was a desk, a small sofa with a coffee table in front of it. The wine glass Patricia was carrying was abruptly plucked from her fingers and placed on the dresser as they entered.
Thor spun her around, a soft “oh” escaping her lips just before he crushed her body to his own, his mouth descending hungrily onto hers. His kiss was bruising and needy, and he greedily sucked down any noise she made, worrying her plump bottom lip with his teeth. It was a harsher kiss than the ones he’d given her before, and different from the fumbling of college boys that she’d reluctantly grown used to. He pulled away panting, a satisfied smirk gracing his features as he took in her swollen lips, and ruddy cheeks.
“This is a good look for you.” His tone was smarmy as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip appreciatively. She opened her mouth, sucking the digit into her mouth. He groaned loudly, his head falling back briefly before he snapped back to attention. “Again.” Patty swallowed thickly, the movement forcing his thumb against the roof of her mouth as her tongue moved beneath it. She’d never been ordered around like that by anyone—and she didn’t want to like it, but she’d acquiesced almost instantly, and the answering groan made her knees shake just a little.
“Good girl.”
The husky, growled words sent heat rushing from the top of her head down to the tips of her fingers and toes, and she couldn’t help the moan of pleasure that escaped her at his praise. The self assured smirk on his handsome face grew wider at this, and he lifted her, his hands cupping her ass as he did so.
“Hey—” He didn’t bother with the propriety any more; openly fondling and squeezing her without preamble. Instinctively, Patty wrapped her thighs around his waist, locking her knees on either side of his torso. He hushed her with a stern look; her mouth snapped shut, the complaint dying in the face of his disapproval. She wanted more than anything for this to continue, for him to keep touching her.
He walked backwards toward the bed, sitting heavily on the edge as his knees touched it. Thor’s hands were everywhere—in fact it seemed like he had more than two—up her dress, pulling at her thong, cupping her breasts through the fabric of her dress. It was maddening; like her body was an instrument and he was an expert, playing every note perfectly. He ran his thick finger up the seam of her panties, his eyes locked onto her face.
“So wet, babes.” He clucked his tongue. “Wet and messy.” The tip of his finger found its way underneath the edge of her panties, stroking the clean shaven lips of her pussy. Patricia bit her lip and looked away, embarrassed. His gaze bored into her, exciting her and making her nervous all at the same time. She could still feel his eyes on her, even as her own fluttered shut and he slipped just inside her.
“Fuck!” Patricia’s voice sounded hoarse and needy even to her own ears, and it scared her. “I-I—”
“You want more, don’t you baby?” Gentle—but still commanding, a demand for an answer. His gaze turned expectant, and Patricia scrambled to answer.
“Yes!”
Patricia didn’t consider herself virginal—she’d had sex before, and she’d found pleasure at her own hands more than once—but nothing had ever been like this before. She’d come to detest male bragging, and the cock sure attitudes of her peers, but this was...different. Thor wasn’t just bragging.
He was making promises, and he intended to keep them.
He sank a single finger inside, curling it. Patricia’s hips moved of their own accord, her legs tightening around his waist as she jerked in his arms, a sharp cry coming from her. Oh fuck, fuck fuck— Thor’s other hand was kneading her ass as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of her clenching warmth. He grunted appreciatively.
“Yes, baby. Oh yes . Come on.” Patricia’s head fell forward against him, the stubble of his beard rubbing against her forehead. He was egging her on in that low baritone, making it hard to think and shit it felt so good not to. His thumb found her clit, rubbing at it in slow, deliberate circles. The action sent shockwaves through her body, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his finger as Patricia’s hands found his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.
She’d never been particularly vocal before—in fact, the last guy she’d slept with had accused her of being frigid—but it didn’t seem like Thor felt similarly. He teased every sound out of her with ease, adding a second finger to the first and groaning at her tightness.
“You are fucking tight , you know that?” His voice was low, menacing. He scissored his fingers inside her, and Patricia keened. “You are going to feel so goddamn perfect.” His words were strangely predatory and cold, though there was a smile on his face. Patricia pushed away the strange, used feeling it left in her gut, focusing instead on the hot coil of pleasure tightening at her core. His fingers moved expertly through her slick folds, drawing garbled pleas and gibberish from her parted lips as she writhed in his lap.
“Thor,” She whined, her hips still moving against his hand without her express permission. He pressed his lips against her forehead, and leaned away, his hand still moving steadily. “Please.” Patricia could feel him, hot and heavy pressed against her through his pants.
“You can do better, I think.” His thumb pressed more insistently against her clit, and Patricia felt her body jerk, and her knees tremble, loosening around him. “You want to cum, baby? Tell me that’s what you want.” The sobbed request fell from her lips before Patty could stop them.
“I wanna cum!” She cried, pressing herself against him as she writhed. It felt like she was on fire, her nerve endings singing with pleasure. When he didn’t speed up, or give any indication that he’d heard her, Patricia began to struggle, whining. “Please, Thor!” He chuckled, as though her efforts were nothing more than amusing. He was so much bigger than her, and stronger too. It didn’t take much for him to hold her in place with a stern hand.
“So demanding.” He crooked his fingers inside of her again, still flicking at her clit with his thumb. “I give the orders here, baby.” He stilled for a moment, and Patricia let out another breathy whine. “But I do want to feel that tight pussy suck at my fingers before I sink my cock in it, so I think I’ll allow it.” Thor sounded like he was debating himself rather than addressing her, and for once she was glad for it, because Patricia couldn’t think of any words to answer him with. Her mind was blissfully blank, her hips moving steadily against his hand as he brought her closer and closer to sweet oblivion.
Tension built steadily in her belly, pulling taut as he murmured obscenities against her hair. What he planned on doing with her, how hard he was going to fuck her, how perfect and tight and sweet she was going to be wrapped around him—and then Patricia saw white, her body convulsing as she came apart in his arms. Her mind was mush, and it took her a few moments to realize that the slurred, garbled words she was hearing were coming from her own mouth.
“Thank you… Thank you… So good…” Patty was still trembling, her legs unable to support her as he placed her gently on the bed. Thor rose to his feet, tearing at his shirt with impatient hands, his eyes dark and hungry as they took in her shaking body. Her dress was all rucked up around her hips, her lacy black thong pushed to the side. As conscious thought returned to Patricia’s head, she began to feel embarrassed—ashamed, even. How must she look? Her soaked pussy on full display for a man she barely knew.
Thor didn’t give her any more time to contemplate her current situation as he fell on her again, his impatient hands pulling at her dress as he leaned down to press his mouth to hers again. He trailed kisses down the sied of her jaw and returned to her throat as he grunted with frustration.
“Is there a zipper on this thing? Or how the fuck do we get this off, babes? I’m dying here.”
“Hah. Yeah, one sec.” The zipper was hidden in the ruching of the dress, and Patricia sat up, forcing him back. She turned around, indicating with her finger where it was. It took him a few tries, but he got it down, unhooking the little eyelet at the top. She’d forgone a bra—it wasn’t like she had a whole lot of cleavage to speak of, she was barely a C cup. But Thor didn’t seem disappointed as he cupped her in his hands, rolling her nipples between his thick fingers as the dress slid down about her waist.
“So much better. Let’s take this off.” He pushed the sleeves down her arms, and pulled the dress down her legs eagerly. Patricia thought she’d turn over onto her back, but Thor held her hips, stopping her. “No.”
“But I—”
“No. Stay like this. You’ve got a great ass, you know that?” He mused, tugging on the fabric of her thong with one finger as he caressed the curve of her hip with a gentle hand. “Fuck, you’re a cute little thing. How old are you, babes?” He asked, and Patricia caught the sound of a zipper over the rustling of the sheets underneath them.
“T-Twenty four.”
My birthday was two months ago.
He didn’t respond, but she felt the push of warm flesh against her ass, hot and hard. Oh my fuck, he’s huge! A needy little whimper wormed its way out of her throat, and Patricia heard him chuckle as he parted her with two fingers. He spread her wetness through her folds with a careful hand, groaning as the head of him throbbed against her.
Thor leaned down, his hair brushing against her back as he went. It must have come loose from his bun , she thought fleetingly.
“Stay still.”
He’d barely imparted the command before she felt the length of his cock slide against her, and Patricia fought the urge to jerk away in surprise. He pressed against her opening, and she felt herself stretching to accommodate him. A high pitched whine escaped her as her head fell forward onto the mattress. Thor was unperturbed and continued pressing inside her, murmured curses falling from his lips.
“So fucking tight, fuck, fuck fuck —”
Patricia had never felt this full. Not with people, not with toys, her own fingers; nothing compared to this. She was glad the weight of his body was pressing her into the bed, his hands the only thing keeping her hips up, because her eyes were rolled up into the back of her head and her mouth was wide open.
There was so much of him, and when she finally felt his hips against her own, Patricia was panting loudly, her pussy clenching wildly around him. Then his hand was in her hair pulling her up and against his body, the other circling her waist to keep her up. It felt like an even tighter fit in this position, and the fullness at the apex of her thighs bordered on discomfort. Patricia whined, shifting against him. Thor drew out slowly, before snapping his hips against her, forcing his cock back inside.
The angle forced her to stare down the line of her own body, watching as his girth disappeared into her pussy over and over. It felt so good, and her hips moved on their own, falling in line with the pace he’d already set. The hand at her waist traveled up to her breasts, squeezing them roughly as he pulled one of her nipples taut.
“Ah! Stop!” Patricia whined, frowning up at him. He licked his lips.
“But when I do this—” He tugged again, “you squeeze me so. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuated each word with a hard snap of his hips. It hurt, but… It still felt good, and when he soothed it with gentle strokes after, she felt herself tighten again just the same. His cock slipped out of her, and Patty whined at its absence, craning her neck to see his face. “Turn over, Patricia.”
Patricia turned over onto her back, her cheeks hot as their eyes met. His hair was loose and wild around his face, which was ruddy and glistened with sweat. He growled at her, grabbing her thigh with one large hand and pushed it up. He fisted his cock in one hand, pumping it a few times before he pushed into her again, groaning.
“You are a fucking gem,” He said, his gaze both lusty and appreciative as he appraised her briefly before sinking in once more. His head lolled back and Patricia mewled.
She’d never been able to orgasm more than one time in a row, and almost never with any of the other partners she’d had. But now, Patricia felt that coil tightening again, white hot pleasure shooting up her spine. Thor’s huge hands were bruisingly tight around her hips, pulling her hard against him as he moved above her.
“I want you to cum on this cock, baby.” His voice was wild and guttural. “Now.” She wasn’t sure if it was the strength of his command, or the feel of his cock pushing against that rough patch inside her, but her eyes rolled back and Patricia’s body shook. Colors exploded behind her closed eyelids, and her hands scrabbled for purchase against his arms, shoulders, torso as she came hard around him.
Thor’s hips met hers roughly as he fucked her straight through it, her nails digging into his skin. He groaned, holding her in place as heat flooded her insides, his forehead dropping to hers as he panted. Patty could still feel him throbbing. She was panting too, her hair a mess around her face as his sweaty weight pressed her into the sheets.
After a moment, he heaved a huge sigh, and gingerly removed his still semi-hard cock from her pulsing center, and laid down beside her on the bed. Patty wasn’t sure what to do, but he solved that problem for her by tugging her body against his own.
“You can stay the night if you want.”