Chapter 23 Moonshine #7
He rocked his hips, grinding deep, holding me pinned so I had to take every inch, had to feel him pressed up against places inside me no one had ever reached. My hands scrabbled for purchase, palms flat on the glass, forehead pressed beside my own reflection.
He pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, making me yelp, the pleasure burning bright and sharp.
He did it again, and again, building a slow rhythm, hips rolling, cock dragging over every sensitive spot.
I watched my face contort, watched sweat drip down my spine, watched Evan’s eyes fixed on mine in the mirror, wild with possession.
My knees started to give out, but he caught me, arms strong and unyielding, never letting me fall, never letting me stop watching the way he claimed me. He mouthed at my neck, tongue tasting my skin, lips dragging down to my shoulder, then biting, marking me as his.
I never wanted it to end. Never wanted to stop seeing myself like this—fucked open, worshipped, owned, loved.
He slowed, holding still, letting me feel him pulse inside me, cock twitching with need. His hand cupped my cheek, thumb stroking my jaw.
“You belong to me,” he whispered, and I believed him.
Evan didn’t let me linger against the wall for long.
He wrapped one massive arm around my waist, the other hooking under my thighs, and in a single, powerful movement, he lifted me up and away from the mirror.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs tight around his hips, feeling his cock still buried inside me, still so thick and hard it made my breath hitch every time he shifted his grip.
He carried me across the room, every step a reminder of his strength, the way his body dwarfed mine, the way I was completely at his mercy and loving every second.
He lay me back onto the bed, never letting go, guiding me down until my back hit the sheets and he could look down at me—sweaty, open, flushed, trembling.
For a moment, he just hovered, letting his gaze drink me in, his hands sliding down my sides, caressing every inch of exposed skin.
“Want you on top,” he said, voice rough. “Wanna see you take it. Wanna watch you break for me.”
I nodded, feverish, pulling him closer for a filthy, desperate kiss before letting him slide out of me.
I groaned at the loss, but he was already shifting, grabbing my hips and hauling me up, positioning himself flat on his back with his head against the pillows.
His cock stood proud, slick and flushed and still dripping from where he’d just owned me, and I couldn’t stop staring.
He watched me, eyes dark and full of hunger and something deeper, something that made my whole chest ache.
I straddled his thighs, planting my hands on his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath my palm. He grabbed his cock, lining it up with my rim, smearing more lube around the head before looking up at me—waiting for permission.
I grinned, wild and wanting, and sank down in one slow, aching motion, swallowing him inch by inch until I was fully seated, hips flush to his, cock buried deep inside me.
We both shuddered, twin groans filling the room, bodies locked together.
I could feel every twitch, every pulse, the thick stretch of him so deep it felt like he was touching my soul.
Evan’s hands landed on my hips, strong and steady, guiding my movements as I started to roll, slow at first, grinding down, making both of us gasp.
I planted my feet on either side of his thighs and began to move—lifting myself up, then slamming down, loving the way he filled me over and over.
His cock dragged against my walls, hitting that spot inside me that made my vision go white, made me cry out, made me want to come right then and there.
“Fuck, Nate,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Look at you—riding me so good. You were made for this, made to take me.”
I fucked myself on him, working up a rhythm, using his chest for leverage.
He couldn’t keep his hands still, one roaming up to pinch my nipples, the other slipping down to stroke my cock in time with my thrusts.
Sweat dripped down my back, my thighs burned, but I didn’t care—I wanted all of it, wanted to be ruined and worshipped at the same time.
He lifted his hips, meeting my thrusts, cock driving deeper, his hands bruising on my waist. I braced myself, leaning forward, biting at his shoulder, grinding my cock against his abs as I rode him harder, faster, chasing that high, that point of no return.
I felt him start to lose control, hips jerking up, his breath turning ragged, sweat slicking our bodies.
He grabbed my chin, forcing my mouth open, and spat inside—dirty and claiming, the taste of him making me moan, making me clamp down around his cock.
He licked his thumb, then pressed it to my lips, letting me suck it in, eyes burning with pride as I fell apart for him.
“You close?” he panted, hand stroking my cock faster, squeezing the head, thumbing precome down my shaft. “Wanna feel you come on me. Wanna fill you up.”
“Please,” I begged, barely coherent. “Fill me. Want to feel you—inside, all of it. Need it, Evan.”
He thrust up, hard and deep, cock swelling, and then he was coming, hips jerking, thick heat flooding me, his groan loud and helpless as he emptied himself, filling me so full I could feel it leaking out around him, running down my thighs.
The sensation sent me spinning, my own climax building, but before I could tip over, he pulled out, moving fast, flipping me onto my back.
I barely had time to catch my breath before Evan was between my legs, mouth wrapping around my cock, sucking me in deep, his tongue working the head, his hands strong on my thighs, pinning me wide so I couldn’t squirm away.
He sucked hard, messy, taking me as deep as he could, tongue swirling, lips tight, swallowing down every drop of slick and sweat and the taste of his own come that was smeared everywhere.
He kept going, determined, relentless, eyes locked on mine as he brought me right to the edge.
I arched up, fisting the sheets, heels digging into the mattress, every nerve ending screaming for release.
He moaned around me, the vibration making me cry out, body tensing as the pleasure broke over me like a tidal wave.
I came hard, spilling into his mouth, watching as he swallowed it all, not letting a single drop go to waste.
He sucked me dry, then licked me clean, mouth moving down to nuzzle at my balls, licking up the mess he’d made.
When he was satisfied, he crawled up the bed, settling beside me, arms wrapping around my waist, body pressed close.
Evan didn’t let me move, not even an inch.
Even after I’d finished in his mouth, after he’d cleaned me with tongue and lips and hands that were never gentle, never rushed, he kept me splayed out on the mattress, legs still wide, chest rising and falling in broken, unsteady gasps.
I felt completely exposed, body trembling, heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it through my ribs.
He shifted down the bed, big hands spreading my thighs again, not caring how open or raw I was.
I barely had time to catch my breath before his mouth was on me, tongue sliding down, lips hot against the inside of my thigh.
He nuzzled into the crease, kissing soft, lazy, making me shiver at the intimacy of it.
Then he licked lower, pausing at my hole, and I realized just how filthy this was—how much I craved it.
Evan’s tongue pressed right against my rim, and I felt the obscene slide of his own cum leaking out, dripping slow, hot, slick.
He groaned, the sound deep and hungry, almost possessive, and bent to lick me open, tasting the mess he’d left inside me.
The first touch of his tongue made me whine, legs instinctively trying to close, but his hands caught behind my knees, holding me wide, holding me right where he wanted.
“Look at this,” he murmured, breath hot, lips slick with spit and come. “Can’t believe how good you look like this. Made for me. Look at how much you took, sweetheart.”
He leaned in, tongue plunging inside, licking up the mixture of himself and me, savoring every drop.
He made a show of it, slow and thorough, groaning against my skin every time his tongue found more slick, every time his mouth sealed over my hole and sucked at the mess he’d bred into me.
I could feel it everywhere—dripping down my crack, running over my thighs, his beard scratching at my skin as he devoured me with a hunger that bordered on reverence.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he whispered, licking a slow circle around my rim, then flicking his tongue inside again, scooping out more come, licking up everything I gave him. “You took all of me. So fucking greedy. Bet you love being filled, don’t you?”
His voice was rough, almost shaky, like he was barely holding it together. I looked down, meeting his eyes, and saw everything—hunger, pride, and something darker, deeper. He grinned, tongue still working, making sure I felt every filthy, humiliating second.
I moaned, breath catching as his tongue pressed deeper, scooping out another mouthful of slick. “I love it. Love being your mess. Want you to fill me every night, Evan.”
He growled, biting down just above my hole, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make me feel owned, marked.
He sucked a bruise into the sensitive skin, tongue soothing the sting before plunging back inside, slurping, making the most obscene noises, licking up his own cum like it was his favorite thing in the world.
The heat of it made me shudder, hips rocking, body trying to chase more even though I was already wrecked.
He never let go, never let me close my legs, just held me wide, licking and sucking, cleaning me out but never making me feel anything less than worshipped.
He spread my cheeks, admired the view in the low light, then leaned in, spit pooling against my rim, tongue working to push every drop deeper before licking it out again, like he wanted to mark me from the inside out.
“Look at this mess,” he said softly, eyes dark and proud. “You did so good for me. Took everything I gave you. That’s what I want to see every time I fuck you—my come dripping out, proof that you’re mine.”
He licked a slow stripe up my crack, then buried his face again, sucking at my hole, tongue flicking, tasting, making sure I never forgot how thoroughly he’d claimed me. The feeling was overwhelming—filthy, raw, so intimate it almost hurt.
When he finally pulled back, mouth slick and swollen, he looked up at me with a smile that was half pride, half wonder. “You want to know my favorite thing about you?” he murmured, voice barely more than a rumble. “You take all of it. You never hold back. That’s how I know you’re mine.”
He crawled up the bed, settling beside me, pulling me in until I was half draped across his chest, legs tangled with his, his hand splayed wide on my back, rubbing lazy circles into my spine.
The air was thick with sweat and sex, the sheets a tangled mess beneath us, but I’d never felt so comfortable, so safe.
I curled into him, nose pressed to his throat, breathing in the scent that was all Evan—pine, sweat, musk, and now the faint salt of sex. He kissed my forehead, slow and soft, and I felt the tremble in his arms, the aftershocks running through both of us.
He didn’t speak for a long time. Just held me, letting the silence stretch, letting the sweat dry on our skin and the mess soak into the sheets.
His hand drifted lower, fingers tracing the curve of my ass, thumb dipping into the slick between my cheeks.
He pressed a kiss to my temple, then another to my jaw, his mouth gentle now, all the hunger banked down into something softer.
“You know what that does to me?” he whispered, voice rough, lips ghosting over my skin. “Seeing you like that. Seeing what we do to each other. Makes me want to keep you like this forever—ruined and full, so no one else can even look at you without knowing you’re mine.”
I shivered, loving the possessive edge in his voice, the way he never tried to hide how much he cared. I reached up, brushing the sweat-damp hair from his forehead, tracing the strong line of his jaw, the softness in his eyes.
“Guess you’re stuck with me,” I teased, voice low and tired. “Once you breed me like that, you can’t just let me go.”
He laughed, soft and unguarded, then pulled me tighter. “Not planning to. Not ever. You belong right here.”
He tucked me under his arm, rolling us so I was half on top, my head pillowed against his chest, heart finally slowing to match his.
I felt the mess between my legs, his come still leaking out, still sticky and wet against my skin, but I didn’t care.
I wanted to stay like this—claimed, owned, safe, and so deeply satisfied I could barely keep my eyes open.
Evan stroked my back, lazy and content, fingers tracing patterns that promised more—always more, always us. Outside, Hollow Pines was silent, the world shrinking down to just this room, just this bed, just the two of us tangled together in sweat and sex and something that felt a lot like forever.
And as I drifted, I let myself believe it. Let myself want it. Let myself be his—ruined and adored, exactly where I was meant to be.