Chapter 1 #2
“Let me see your beautiful body,” he says, words short, his hands ripping the fabric over my head, tossing it aside with a thud.
My bra’s next, his fingers unhooking it, pulling it off, my curves spilling free, heavy and full.
Beautiful? My breath catches. People call me fat, chubby, names that cut deep, but beautiful? That’s new, foreign.
I look at him, and it’s all want—raw, real, no lies.
My chest tightens, not with shame but with something hotter, needier, as his hands cup my curves, squeezing, thumbs grazing my nipples, making me gasp, “Ahhhh!” My pussy pulses, and I’m trembling, exposed, but wanted. Fuck, so wanted.
“I want to see you too…” I whisper, voice shy, my hands shaking as they reach for his shirt.
He smirks, stepping back just enough to rip it off, muscles flexing, ink and scars bared across his chest. His hands hit his belt, unbuckling fast, the clink loud.
He shoves his jeans and boxers down, and his cock springs free—huge, thick, forearm-sized, veined and pulsing, the head slick with pre-cum.
I stare, mouth dry, because fuck, it’s massive, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen, like it could split me open, ruin me.
My pussy clenches, aching to feel it, and I’m panting, my curves heaving as I reach for him.
“Touch it,” he says, guiding my hand to his cock, wrapping my fingers around it. “Stroke my dick, printsessa, feel how fucking hard you make me.”
I do, my hand barely circling him, sliding slowly, the skin hot and silky over steel.
He groans, “That’s it, harder, jerk me like you mean it.” I pump faster, thumb smearing his pre-cum, the sound obscene, and he curses, “Fuck, your hand’s so good. Squeeze tighter, make it sloppy.”
I suck in a quiet breath. He is so beautiful. We hold our gaze as I stroke him tip to base and back again, feeling him throb, massive and heavy in my grip. He leans in, mouth crashing onto mine, tongue demanding, tasting me.
“I want to suck you,” I gasp against his lips, desperate, and he pulls back, smirking.
“Go on, printsessa, taste me.”
I slide off the counter, knees hitting the floor, the marble slick beneath me, and take him in my mouth, lips stretching around his girth.
He’s so big I can barely fit him, my tongue swirling the head, tasting salt and heat.
“Fuck yes, suck my cock,” he says, hand fisting my hair, guiding me deeper. I bob, sucking hard, gagging a little, but I don’t stop, my hand stroking the base, wet with spit and pre-cum. He groans, hips bucking.
“So fucking good. Keep going, take it all.”
I keep sucking, lips stretching around his massive cock, saliva dripping down my chin, slicking my hand as I stroke him.
I look up, and fuck, he’s tall, towering over me, his chest broad, scars crisscrossing his skin, jagged lines snaking from his pecs to his back, healed but raw, like a map of battles.
My free hand moves, fingers tracing a thick scar on his side, rough under my touch, and he flinches, a sharp hiss escaping.
“Careful, printsessa,” he says, hand tightening in my hair, “those are old, but you’re waking something else.
” His hips buck harder, cock hitting the back of my throat, and I’m trembling, my body heaving.
God, I want him, scars and all, and it’s terrifying, this need to taste every mark, to know him.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he says, reaching for my upper arm to lift me. Then he’s hefting me up and setting me back onto the counter as if I weigh nothing. He’s back between my thighs, hand gripping his cock, lining it up.
I freeze, body trembling, want and confusion twisting inside me.
“Anton, wait…” I whisper, voice shaky. “I’m… scared.”
He pauses, hand still on his cock, and tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I won’t hurt you, Mary, I promise,” he says, words low, his thumb brushing my lip.
“No… I mean, we don’t have a condom,” I say, my chest heaving, curves bouncing with each breath, my pussy still dripping.
“You on the pill?” he asks, grip steady, waiting.
I nod, panting. “Yes, I’m on it. Had a check-up last month. Clean, all good.”
He grins, leaning closer. “I’m clean too, printsessa. Tested last week, nothing to worry about.” His hand slides to my hip, squeezing.
Holding his gaze, I whisper, “What happens next?”
“I’ll show you,” he says, words short, his body crowding mine.
He doesn’t wait, thrusting in hard, his massive cock stretching me wide, filling me deep.
I cry out, “Fuuuuck!” as he drives into me, my legs wrapped around him, thighs clenching his hips.
“You feel so tight,” he says, pounding faster, “gonna fuck you till you scream.” Each thrust hits deep, his cock splitting me open, and I’m shuddering, my pussy gripping him tight.
My hands move, trembling, one on his chest, fingers finding his nipple, rough and flat under my touch. I squeeze it hard, twisting a little, and he groans, hips slamming harder.
“Da, keep milking me with your tight little cunt, Mary,” he orders, one hand squeezing my hip, the other rolling my nipple.
“Anton…” I cry out, my head smacking back toward the mirror, but he moves fast, his hand shooting from my hip to cradle my skull, catching it before it hits the glass. His fingers grip the base of my neck, firm, keeping me safe as he thrusts harder.
Anton’s eyes drop to mine, heavy-lidded. “You’re perfect, Mary.”
The words slam through me harder than his thrusts. Perfect. No one’s ever called me that. Not my father. Not Evan. Not anyone. I’ve always been too much or not enough. Never perfect.
Something in me cracks open, raw and greedy. My eyes squeeze shut as I let it hit me, let my body answer him, clinging to every inch he gives me.
For once, I don’t overthink. I don’t argue. I just take.
“You’re made for my cock.” His words make me clench harder, and I’m panting.
“More, Anton, please!”
He thrusts deeper, relentless. “I’m gonna come inside you,” he says, voice low, “fill you up, make you mine.”
I nod, desperate. “Yes, do it!” He slams in one last time, and I shatter, screaming, “Ahhhh!” as my pussy pulses around him, pleasure crashing through me.
He groans, coming hard, hot, and thick inside me, his cock throbbing as he fills me, our bodies locked together on the counter.
He pulls out slowly, his cum dripping onto the cool surface, mixing with my arousal, and he cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek.
“From now on, you do as I say. Mary,” he says, words short, his hand lingering like a claim. My chest heaves, and I’m wrecked, but alive, wanting more, because with him, I’m not just owned—I’m ruined.
The End
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