3. Mira #2
"You taste so fucking good," he rumbles against my skin, switching to the other breast. His beard scrapes sensitive flesh as he sucks harder this time, pulling deep, and my hips buck up into his hand.
His fingers find my entrance and push inside—two thick digits stretching me open—and I cry out at the sudden fullness.
"That's it," he says, voice dark with satisfaction. "Let me hear you."
He pumps his fingers slow and deep, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes. But every time I start to climb, every time my pussy clenches around him and my breath goes ragged, he stops.
Pulls back.
Leaves me shaking and desperate.
"Matt, please, I need?—"
"You need to learn." He bites down on my nipple—not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to make me yelp. "You don't manipulate me. You don't play games. You do what I tell you, when I tell you."
His fingers slide out, and I almost sob at the loss. But then he's rubbing my clit again—tight circles that make my whole body tense with need.
"Say it," he demands, mouth still at my breast, tongue lapping up the milk that flows freely now. "Tell me you understand."
"I—I understand—" My voice breaks as he adds more pressure, more speed, pushing me right to the brink.
And then stops.
"No!" The word tears out of me, raw and pleading.
His eyes flick up to meet mine, dark and ruthless. His lips glisten with my milk, his beard damp, and the satisfied smirk on his face makes me want to scream.
"You'll come when I decide you've earned it," he says, voice rough. "Not before."
He moves to my other breast again, sucking and squeezing while his fingers tease my entrance—pressing just inside, stretching me open, then pulling back to stroke my clit until I'm writhing beneath him.
Every muscle in my body is wound tight, every breath shallow and desperate. My pussy throbs, aching and empty, and the wet sounds of his mouth on my breast mix with my broken whimpers.
"Please, Matt, please, I'll do anything?—"
"Anything?" He lifts his head, eyes blazing. "Then you'll work. Every day. Every chore I give you. No complaints."
I can't take it anymore. My whole body trembles, wound so tight I might shatter, and the words spill out before I can stop them.
"Yes! I promise—I'll work, I'll do everything you say, just please?—"
Matt's mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing the rest of my begging. The kiss is brutal and claiming, his tongue pushing past my lips to taste me thoroughly. When he pulls back, his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with need.
"I'm right there with you," he growls against my mouth. "Been holding back. But now that you've promised..." His hand wraps around his cock, positioning himself at my entrance. "You're gonna come on my cock, Mira. Gonna milk me dry."
He pushes inside—slow, so slow—and the stretch makes my back arch off the bed. My pussy clenches around him, pulling him deeper, and we both groan at the sensation.
"Fuck, you're so wet," he grunts, sliding in another inch. "So tight and perfect."
When he's fully seated, buried to the hilt, he pauses. His forehead drops to mine, breath ragged against my lips. Then he pulls back and thrusts.
Pleasure slams through me, hot and electric, radiating from where we're joined to every nerve ending in my body. I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as he sets a rhythm—deep, hard strokes that hit something inside me that makes my vision blur.
"That's it," Matt growls, eyes locked on my face. "Take it. Take every fucking inch of your stepbrother's cock."
His hips piston harder, faster, and the obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room. My breasts bounce with each thrust, milk leaking freely now, streaming down the curves to pool on my stomach.
Matt's gaze drops, and his expression goes feral.
"Christ, look at you," he rasps. "Tits leaking everywhere while I fuck you. So fucking beautiful."
He dips his head and licks a stripe through the milk on my breast, then sucks hard on the nipple. The dual sensation—his mouth pulling milk from my chest, his cock pounding into my pussy—pushes me higher, tighter, until I'm gasping for air.
"You're mine," he says, voice rough with possession. "This cunt is mine. These tits are mine. Every drop of milk, every orgasm—mine."
"Yes—god, yes?—"
"Gonna fill you up again," he continues, thrusts getting rougher, less controlled. "Breed this tight little pussy until you're dripping with my cum."
His words push me right to the edge. My thighs shake, my pussy clenches around him, and when his thumb finds my clit and rubs tight circles, I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, so intense my vision whites out. I scream his name, body convulsing, walls clamping down on his cock in waves that seem to go on forever.
"Fuck—Mira—" Matt's voice breaks as he slams deep one last time. His cock pulses inside me, hot spurts of cum flooding my pussy as he groans long and low against my neck.
We stay locked together, trembling, both riding out the aftershocks. My chest heaves, milk still dripping from my nipples, and Matt's weight pins me to the bed in a way that feels safe and right.
Finally, he eases out, and I whimper at the loss. But then his fingers are there—gathering the cum that leaks from my pussy and pushing it back inside.
"Keep it in," he murmurs, voice still rough but softer now. "Keep every drop."