Chapter 17 Marisa
MARISA
Roman’s hand is still tight around my throat, my back arched, my body a trembling mess as he pounds up into me.
Every thrust scrapes me raw inside, the stretch brutal, the wet slap of our bodies echoing in the little room.
My voice is broken, high-pitched, ragged with need, but I can’t stop saying his name.
“Roman—Roman—fuck—”
“Say it louder,” he snarls, eyes locked on me, chest heaving. His cock pulses thick and angry inside me, swelling against my fluttering walls. “Scream it.”
And I do.
The sound tears out of me as he slams into me harder, faster, until I’m gone, until the bed rattles beneath us and my vision blurs.
My cunt clenches tight, milking him, and his roar is the only warning before he breaks.
His hips snap up in one brutal thrust and hold, his cock jerking deep.
The first gush of heat makes me sob, the second makes me bite his shoulder, and the third—gods, the third feels endless, hot and thick, flooding me until I swear I can feel it pooling inside.
He groans against my neck, shaking with the force of it, his voice low and raw.
“You take it all, angel. Every drop. You’re mine.”
I collapse against his chest, limp, panting, sweat soaking through his shirt where I bury my face.
His cock is still hard inside me, still twitching, and I whimper when he shifts his hips, grinding me down onto it as if to make sure not a drop escapes.
I’m dizzy, drunk on him, still catching my breath when the sound cuts the air—sharp, mocking.
A whistle.
I jerk my head up, eyes wide, and there he is.
Deacon.
Leaning in the doorway like he owns the place, arms folded, that wicked grin carved across his face.
His eyes roam over us, taking in Roman’s cock still buried inside me, the sweat, the bruises, the mess of my hair, and his tongue flicks over his teeth like he’s hungry.
“Hell of a show,” he drawls, tilting his head. “But I’m wondering how long you’re gonna keep her like that, Roman. Looks to me like she could still take more.”
Roman snarls low in his throat, but I cut in first, still panting, my voice shaking and sharp. “Why are you still standing there?”
The grin on Deacon’s face darkens, his boots thudding against the floor as he steps in and kicks the door shut behind him.
Roman’s cock twitches inside me, still stiff, still thick, as Deacon closes the distance.
He grabs my chin, forces me to look up at him while Roman still holds me down, still buried in my pussy.
“She said it herself,” Deacon murmurs, his breath hot against my lips. “You want me to stop standing? Then I’ll fuck her standing.”
I don’t even have time to answer before his hands are on me, shoving me forward against Roman’s chest. Roman curses, still hard inside me, his hips jerking instinctively as I shift.
Then Deacon’s fingers are at my ass, spreading me, slicking cold lubricant between my cheeks.
My whole body jerks. “Wait—Deac—”
He chuckles, low and dangerous. “You’re already full, Marisa, but you’re about to learn what it feels like to be split open right.”
Roman snarls, his voice ragged with lust, not warning. “Do it.”
The first press of Deacon’s finger in my ass makes me moan, and a soft sigh escapes me when he adds another then pulls out entirely.
Then his cock at my ass makes me scream into Roman’s throat, my nails clawing at his shoulders.
Roman holds me tighter, his hand sliding back to my neck, pinning me, forcing me to take it.
“Shh, angel,” he growls, his cock grinding deep into my pussy as Deacon pushes into my ass from behind. “Breathe for us. Take it.”
The stretch is vicious, brutal, and I sob, my tongue lolling out as my body trembles between them.
Deacon keeps pressing until the fat head pops inside, and I wail, drool spilling from my lips.
“Christ, she’s tight,” Deacon grits out, shoving deeper, inch by inch. “You feel this, Roman? She’s choking me back here.”
“Fuck, yes,” Roman groans, thrusting up into my pussy, meeting Deacon’s push. “She’s made for this. For us.”
I scream again, my body shaking, my mind white with sensation as they both fill me—Roman thick in my cunt, Deacon stretching my ass wide.
The pressure is unbearable, perfect, filthy, my belly heavy with their cocks grinding against each other inside me.
Deacon slams forward the last inch, his hips flush against my ass. I sob, drool dripping down my chin.
“Look at her,” Deacon growls, rutting hard, his cock pounding my ass while Roman pounds my pussy. “Fucking drooling. You love this, don’t you, Marisa? Being stuffed full like a dirty little toy.”
I moan, helpless, choking on my own breath, my body convulsing as both men slam into me.
Roman’s hand squeezes my throat tighter, his other hand mauling my tits, twisting my nipples until I scream.
“Good girl,” Roman snarls, thrusting harder, his cock battering my walls while Deacon’s stretches me wider than I thought possible. “Take us. Take all of it. You’re ours.”
And I do—I take every brutal thrust, every filthy word, every claim, my body aching and trembling, my voice breaking into mindless cries as they use me together, pounding me into the mattress, splitting me open until my mind is gone and all that’s left is heat, drool, and the chorus of their groans.
Roman’s cock slams into my pussy from below, thick and deep, stretching me raw.
Deacon pounds my ass from behind, his thrusts brutal, each one shoving me further down onto Roman until I swear I’m splitting apart.
Their rhythm staggers and collides, messy and relentless, and every time they bottom out together I scream, my vision whiting out.
The wet slap of Roman’s balls, the heavy crack of Deacon’s hips, the obscene sound of my body being used — it all blends into one filthy chorus that fills the room.
My throat is raw from crying out, spit dripping down my chin, drool smearing Roman’s chest where my tongue lolls useless.
“Look at her,” Deacon growls behind me, his voice thick, ragged. His hand smacks across my ass, the sting sharp, making me clench around both of them. “She’s gone. Fucking drooling, pussy gripping you, ass milking me. You love it, don’t you, Marisa?”
I try to answer, I swear I do, but all that comes out is a strangled sob, my body shuddering, cunt convulsing around Roman’s cock.
Roman snarls, his grip tightening at my throat, cutting my breath to a thin rasp. “She loves it,” he growls back, fucking up into me harder, faster, the bed crashing against the wall with every brutal slam.
“This little body was made to be ruined by us. Say it, angel. Say you love being split open.”
My voice is wrecked, broken, but the words scrape out of me. “Yes—fuck—yes—I love it—I can’t—oh god—”
Roman slams up, Deacon slams down, and I scream again, my back arching as my whole body convulses.
My pussy gushes around Roman’s cock, soaking us both, and he groans, driving through it like a man possessed.
“Good girl,” he rasps against my ear, grinding deep, his chest slick with sweat. “Make a mess all over me. Show him how sweet you squeeze when you come.”
Deacon snarls low, grabbing my hips hard enough to bruise. “Christ, she’s clenching so tight I can barely move.” He thrusts harder, punishing, pounding into my ass until my scream breaks, high and sharp. “I’ll split you wider. I’ll fuck you until you forget your own name.”
Roman laughs dark against my mouth, his cock jackhammering into me with bruising force. “Forget her name? The only thing she’ll remember is ours.”
I’m choking on it, on them, on everything.
My tits bounce in Roman’s hands, his thumbs pinching my nipples until I writhe, sobbing.
My cunt squeezes him like a fist, my ass spasms around Deacon, and they both groan, voices guttural, hungry.
The mirror across the dresser catches me—hair plastered to my face, eyes glazed, tongue lolling out, drool spilling, tits swollen and marked from Roman’s mouth.
I look ruined, used, fucked open like a toy.
The sight makes me shudder and moan, my walls clenching again around Roman’s cock.
Deacon notices.
He yanks my hair back, forcing my head up toward the mirror.
“Look at yourself,” he growls, his cock pounding harder, bruising deep in my ass. “Look at the filthy little slut you are. Two cocks splitting you and you’re still begging for more.”
My voice is shredded, but I manage a ragged, “More—please—don’t stop—”
Roman’s roar fills my ear as he thrusts harder, sweat dripping from his brow onto my face.
His chest crushes mine, his hand tight on my throat as his hips hammer up into me, relentless. “That’s it, angel. Beg. Show us what you’re made for.”
I’m sobbing now, shaking, my whole body lit like fire.
My cunt convulses around Roman’s cock, pulsing, milking, and another orgasm rips through me so hard I scream, my body jerking uncontrollably between them.
Roman snarls, thrusting up into my spasming pussy, his cock jerking inside me.
Deacon grits his teeth, pounding harder, the base of his cock slapping loud against my ass.
“Fuck—she’s pulling me in,” Roman groans, his voice breaking. “She’s going to bleed me dry.”
“Then let’s give her everything,” Deacon snarls back, slamming deep, his balls smacking against me. “Fill her up. Let her drip with us.”
I wail, my body convulsing, my cunt and ass squeezing both of them so tight it’s almost unbearable.
Roman roars, his hips snapping up in brutal rhythm, and then he breaks.
His cock jerks hard inside me, spilling hot cum deep into my pussy.
Thick spurts flood me, each one making me moan louder, my belly swelling with the heat of it.
He growls against my neck, holding me down on him, grinding to push every drop inside.
The sensation sends me over again, my pussy convulsing wildly, sucking him deeper, milking his cock as more hot ropes flood my womb.
Deacon slams in harder, groaning loud, his thrusts jerky. “Fuck—fuck—she’s clenching me—can’t—”
His cock jerks, pulses, and then I feel it — hot, heavy streams spilling into my ass, filling me until I gasp, my tongue lolling out, drool spilling down my chin.