12. Ivy
IVY
H is lips are fire.
There’s no teasing. No slow warm-up. Just an all-encompassing heat as Ethan locks his mouth to my cunt and takes what he wants. His tongue drives deep, wet and greedy, lapping me open like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
I’m spread wide on the edge of the table, dress bunched at my waist, knees draped over his shoulders. He’s on his knees, face buried in my pussy like he belongs there, like nothing else in the world matters.
The first drag of his tongue through my folds makes me twitch. The second has me moaning, hips already lifting, aching for more.
He groans into me, and the sound makes my clit throb. One arm wraps tightly around my thigh, anchoring me. The other grips under my ass, lifting me higher, angling me up to meet his mouth. I try to shift, overwhelmed, but he growls.
“Stay still,” he snarls, mouth brushing my soaked flesh. “Let me have you.”
And he does. God, he does.
He licks me slowly at first—long, open-mouthed strokes that leave me panting—then switches to fast, filthy flicks over my clit.
He slides lower again, tongue working my entrance, wet and hungry, groaning like he’s getting drunk on it.
Then he does it—he bites. Not hard, just a sharp nip right to my pussy lips.
I cry out, legs jerking, and he does it again.
“Fuck, Ethan!”
“You like that?” His voice is ragged, filthy. “You want me to bite this pretty cunt while I eat you raw?”
I can’t even answer. He’s already moving again, sucking my clit hard, then nipping the hood with just enough pressure to make my back arch off the table. He dips two fingers in without warning, curling them fast and deep until I gasp.
“Oh, my God!”
He presses up, hitting that perfect spot, tongue circling my clit in tight, brutal strokes. Then he flattens his tongue and sucks. Hard.
The orgasm slams into me so fast it steals the breath from my lungs. I cry out, body locking, and then I’m gushing—legs shaking, cunt pulsing, a flood spilling over his mouth.
He moans into it like he’s proud of what he’s done, like he wants every drop. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking me with his fingers, keeps sucking my clit through it, making me writhe, overstimulated and dripping.
“God, look at you,” he growls against me. “Fucking soaked. You made a mess all over my face, baby.”
His mouth returns, softer now but still relentless. He licks up everything, cleans me with slow, deliberate strokes that make me flinch and tremble. His stubble scrapes against sensitive skin as he kisses my inner thighs, then bites again—possessive, almost brutal.
When he finally rises, his mouth is slick, jaw flushed, eyes dark with heat. He looks like a man who’s tasted his purpose and decided he’s never letting it go.
“I should keep you here,” he says, low and wrecked, “on this table, pussy wet and open for my cock until you can’t walk straight.”
And the worst part is—I want it. Every fucking second of it. So I stare at him, my mouth parted, and lick my lower lip. “How about you show me?”
He doesn’t give me a moment to recover. One second, his mouth is wet and hot between my legs. The next, I’m gasping as he pulls away, already stripping his jeans down just far enough to free his cock.
It’s thick, flushed, dripping precum from the tip—and fuck, it looks angry.
“You wanted this,” he says, stroking himself as he steps closer. “So now you’re going to take it.”
“Yes,” I breathe. My voice is already trembling. “I want all of it.”
He grabs my thighs, yanks me back to the edge of the table, and lines himself up with no hesitation. The head of his cock pushes against my entrance, parting me inch by inch until he slams inside in one thrust.
I cry out, head snapping back. The fullness is too much—and yet not enough.
“Fuck,” he groans through clenched teeth. “You’re so fucking tight. Look at how you grip me.”
He pulls back and thrusts again, harder, deeper. I slide an inch on the table from the force, and he grins like he loves it.
“Gonna ruin this pussy,” he mutters, hands gripping my hips so tight I know I’ll feel it later. “Make sure no one else can touch you without tasting me.”
I moan when he bottoms out again. My hands flail for balance, finally clutching the edge of the table as he picks up the rhythm.
He fucks me hard, but not mindlessly. He watches every reaction, every breath, every twitch of my body. His cock drags over that spot inside me that makes my vision blur, again and again, until I’m soaked and shaking, tightening around him with every thrust.
The table creaks beneath us, and still he fucks me harder. Every movement forces a gasp from my mouth.
“Yes, yes , Ethan,” I whimper, voice high and frantic. “Just like that. Give it to me. I’m your good girl, please!”
His hands tighten. His hips slam forward, burying his cock to the hilt.
“Say it again.”
“I’m your good girl.”
He snarls, grabs me by the thighs, and lifts me —cock still buried inside me. My arms wrap around his neck as he carries me across the room like I weigh nothing, still impaled on him, every step making me gasp.
“Don’t drop me,” I pant against his shoulder, clinging tighter.
“Never.” His lips are at my ear, breath hot. “You’re mine, baby. And I’m going to fuck you until you scream it.”
He drops to the bed, falling back with me straddling his lap. His cock shifts deep inside me as I sit up, thighs shaking. But I don’t get long. He plants his feet and thrusts up hard, and I cry out, body slamming down onto him again and again.
My hands scramble for his chest as he fucks me from below, eyes locked on mine.
“You feel that?” he grits. “That’s what happens when my good girl begs for cock.”
“Ethan—”
“Don’t stop talking.”
“I love your cock,” I cry, hips rocking to meet every thrust. “I love the way you use me. Please don’t stop, please!”
He shifts beneath me. Suddenly, I’m on my stomach, face pressed to the mattress, and he’s behind me, pulling my hips up.
Then he slams into me again , deeper now, harder at this angle, and I scream his name.
His hand tangles in my hair, yanking me back just enough.
“Such a good girl,” he growls in my ear. “You take everything I give you, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll take it—take all of it, Ethan!”
He drives in harder, cock pounding deep, the wet slap of our bodies dirty and fast. His other hand grips my waist, guiding me back into every thrust, until the rhythm is merciless.
I sob into the mattress, overwhelmed, split wide—but I love it.
“I can’t… I’m gonna?—”
“You’re gonna come for me,” he snarls, “and then I’m going to keep going until I fill this pussy with every drop I’ve got.”
My body locks. My orgasm rips through me, so sharp and consuming that I scream, mouth open against the sheets, whole body convulsing around his cock.
He keeps fucking me through it, like he needs to feel every last tremor.
Then his hand moves from my hip. It slides up my stomach, then higher, until he cups one of my breasts, squeezing hard. His thumb flicks over the peak, teasing, circling, then pinching just sharp enough to make me gasp.
“You love when I touch you here,” he says, voice thick and dark. “You go soft for me the second I get my hands on these tits.”
I arch into him, needy and desperate, silently begging for more.
He leans over me, mouth dragging hot over my spine. When he reaches my shoulder, he bites—not gently. I cry out, my core clenching around him.
“Oh, that’s it,” he groans. “You feel that? You like it when I bite, don’t you?”
I nod, panting. “Yes. Harder. Please, Ethan.”
His hand leaves my breast, slides between my legs, and then he’s rubbing my clit in tight circles while still thrusting into me from behind. My thighs tremble. My arms nearly give out.
“You’re shaking already,” he says, smug and rough. “You gonna come for me again?”
“I can’t,” I sob. “It’s too much?—”
“Yes, you can.” He slaps my ass, not playful, but punishing. “You’re going to come every time I tell you to.”
My orgasm builds too fast to fight. My body locks, my breath stops, and I explode—loud, uncontrollable, soaking his cock as I cry out for him.
He hisses, then growls deeply and possessively.
“You’re fucking soaking me. Dripping down my balls, baby. You like making a mess for me?”
“Yes,” I whisper, half-broken. “I love it. I want to feel you come inside me.”
“You want to milk me, sweetheart?”
“I want it so deep I feel you for days.”
That’s when he grabs me. Just wraps both arms around my waist, pulls out, and spins me. My legs barely work but he catches me, lifts me in his lap, and sinks me back down on his cock while we’re face-to-face.
I moan into his mouth as he kisses me—wet, open, messy. His hands roam my back, my ass, one sliding back between my legs as he fucks up into me from beneath.
I ride him now, thighs straining, breasts bouncing with every movement, and he doesn’t take his hands off me for a second. One twists my nipple, the other circles my clit again, and the moment I cry out, he shifts.
His lips wrap around my nipple, tongue flicking and sucking, teeth grazing just enough to make me flinch and moan louder.
“God, you feel so good,” I pant, hips moving faster now, desperate.
His head falls back. “Ride me. Milk it out. I want to feel you squeeze every drop from my cock.”
I do. I fuck myself on him, thighs burning, cunt fluttering. And when I reach between us to cup his balls and squeeze gently, he loses it.
He grits his teeth, slams me down onto his cock one final time, and comes, hot, thick pulses flooding me so deep I can feel him twitching inside. He growls my name like he wants to brand it into my skin.
And he’s still hard, still inside me— how is that even possible? He leans in close, voice hot in my ear. “Get on your knees. I’m not done with you.”