8. Nero
8
NERO
W hen Miranda wiggles as if my offer means I need to place her down, I shake my head before directing my steps to the bed responsible for the massive crinkle between her dark brows.
It doesn’t affect me as it does Miranda. Why? I was married for four weeks. Three of those weeks I stayed at Clark’s, the offsite compound of the Popov crew.
I tried to make my marriage work, but the odds were stacked against us more than a Married at First Sight contestant. Tasha and I have nothing in common. We are complete opposites, and although Tasha could see the signs as obviously as I could, she didn’t want an annulment.
She wants a payday.
She may have gotten one—not a lot, but something is better than nothing—if she had left her side gig on the back burner for a few more weeks.
Only Fans is Tasha’s bread and butter. She makes a decent living. As much as a runner, enforcer, and number three of one of the biggest crime syndicates in the world? Not fucking close. But I’m happy for her not to know that until after the divorce papers are signed.
If Tasha snoops, my ma will be brought into a fight she doesn’t belong in. If that fight tells her I wed without her attendance and permission, my balls will be tacked to the wall in her condo not even thirty seconds later.
So, as much as I hate keeping secrets from my ma, I don’t have a choice.
The storm will blow over relatively easily for me. Miranda won’t be so lucky. From the defeat in her eyes when she stormed into the hotel room, and the date on the document I forced through the correct channels days earlier than necessary so her husband wouldn’t die a martyr in his wife’s eyes, I know her nuptials will take a little longer to get over.
I never anticipated I’d be one of the tools to help her forget him, but I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t grateful. Miranda is a great chick. She has fantastic tits, a ripe, salivating pussy, and enough gall not to be a doormat.
None of the women I’ve been with in the past twenty years have come close to the motivation Miranda hits my cock with any time I see her. She’s more addictive than heroin, and I’ve only sampled the surface of her stimulants.
The reminder sees me tossing Miranda onto the mattress. Her giggles firm my cock more, but when I flip her over and drag her back… fuck .
Her ass is pure perfection .
It is too much for a boy to handle and has my plans jumping two steps ahead.
“Old girls like this need more than a ratchet to dismantle her.”
Miranda stops wondering if my “old” reference is about her when I palm her dripping pussy before swiveling her clit between my index and middle fingers. We’re the same age, but even if we weren’t, nothing could derail this train. It is on the tracks, clattering toward climax station.
“The bolts seize from a lack of movement over many years.”
Miranda moans with me when I curl my arm around her midsection and tug her back ruefully enough for the bed frame to screech in the process.
She isn’t worried about us breaking her bed. She’s concentrating on the firmness of my cock when it grinds against her ass, and how the bolts in the bed frame wouldn’t be seized in place if they’d undertaken regular rocking sessions.
Tasha and Roy may have been photographed here and fooled around in this very bed, but they didn’t fuck like thoroughbreds here.
The seized bolts tell a story Roy will never want shared.
I lower the hand groping Miranda’s stomach as if its squishiness is as enticing as the fantastic swell of her tits—because it is—to the apex of her pussy.
My palm flattens against her clit as I rake two fingers between the folds of her wet cunt. She’s still drenched, meaning I don’t face an ounce of resistance when I stuff two fingers deep inside her.
She writhes, forcing her sexy thighs to shudder. The wish to beg is all over her face.
“Do you want to come again, printsessa ? Are you greedy for more?”
When she remains quiet, I squash my palm down firmer, doubling the shudders of her panted breaths.
I don’t want to catch her so I can pluck her wings like the vindictive fucks jealous of her reincarnation.
I just want a few more moments to admire her beauty before she flies away, never to be seen again.
Miranda’s long glossy locks slip off her back and roll down her side when she peers back at me. She watches me under hooded lids for several seconds while I grind my cock against her ass and stimulate her pussy with my hand before she nods.
I smile like all my Christmases have come at once as I lower my hand to my jeans. Her watch when I unbutton my jeans and lower the zipper makes me painfully hard. She likes drinking in my body as much as I do hers.
Before I remove my cock from its tight restraints, I grip my shirt at the back of my neck and pull it over my head while toeing off my boots, my fingers never once moving from her slick canal. I finger fuck her with slow, purposeful pumps while stripping out of my clothes like she paid for the honor.
“You’re so fucking wet,” I murmur when the undeniable proof of her excitement glistens on my fingers. Her pussy tightens when I add, “You need to be. If you want the bolts to loosen enough you can add this piece of shit to the inferno keeping your neighbors’ heating bill low over the past three days, you need to be taken hard and fast.”
I thrust my hips forward, my cock’s head skidding across the sensitive skin between her ass and her pussy.
Her ass cheek wobbles when I slap it, and its claps as I increase the speed of my pumps massage my cock when I rock it back and forth.
“Have you ever been fucked here?”
Her nonchalant headshake that announces she’s never been taken hard and fast ever boosts when I swipe my thumb over a hole not gripping my fingers like she’s seconds from release.
I groan. “Tempting. So fucking tempting. But if you want this bed gone, we’ll have to save your ass’s virginity for another time. I need to take you hard .”
Will you listen to me, acting like this shouldn’t be a one-time-only deal? Miranda’s pussy tastes like heaven, and she is as dynamite as her body, but we’re from very different worlds.
I distribute drugs.
She peddles sugary treats.
I’ll kill a man for looking at me in the wrong manner.
She’d kill him with kindness even after he was a dick.
I’m hard, rough, and ready, and she’s squishy and soft, making my dick fucking ache.
We’re not the same, but my fucking god, it is impossible to think about anything but making her come when standing across from her. I like the way her doe eyes peer up at me without fear, how the thrusts of her chest become more urgent when our eyes lock, and the way not even being married for over a decade has her forgetting the name of the man bringing her to ecstasy.
I’m an addict and Miranda’s pussy is my drug of choice.
Needing to get my head back into game mode, I slide my hips back and grip my length at the base. I’m not gripping it to thicken me more. I am strangling it into submission, wordlessly refusing its numerous pleas to give in to the sheer sexiness of the glistening on Miranda’s thick thighs.
I could come now just from drinking in the way she’s positioned in front of me.
I drop my forehead to her shoulder when she arches up, desperate to reacquaint our bodies. The change-up slicks the head of my cock with her wetness and drenches her clit with my pre-cum.
As I circle the base of my cock and jerk it to the rhythm of Miranda’s hip thrusts, the engorged crown flicks the aching bud between her legs.
We dry hump until the wetness of our joined excitement is louder than our moans, and then I inch back until the head of my cock pierces the lines of her pussy.
“Please,” she begs, her ass cheeks bouncing as she swivels her hips, welcoming me inside.
Just like the first time I took her, a pinch of pain hits my cock when I breach past her entrance. She’s so fucking tight it takes everything I have not to blow my load once my cock’s head has fully sunk inside her.
I take it slow for the first dozen pumps before the insane need to fuck claws at my chest, making me desperate.
I lunge forward fast, fully sinking in with one thrust.
Miranda doesn’t seem to mind. Her screams bounce around the room as her begs for me to fuck her ramp up.
She pleads for me to take her hard and fast, to fuck her how she’s never been fucked.
I oblige.
What red-blooded man wouldn’t?
“Yes,” I moan when she meets my thrusts grind for grind. “That’s it. Take me. Accept my dick like a good little wifey.”
Pleasure pulls my balls in close when she moans my name.
I fuck her lush, soft body with everything I have. I push her to the brink of insanity, on the crazy ride with me, until the headboard we’re endeavoring to loosen bangs against the wall.
Its loud whacks announce the wildness of our embrace. The carnal animalistic fuck we’re undertaking. It is the clap of the crowd knowing they’re getting the performance of their lives, and it gives meaning as to why Tasha’s subscribers doubled in less than thirty-six hours.
Miranda’s body is a temple of seduction.
It was built to be fucked.
I love fucking her. And since it is a gift, not an expectation, I enjoy every minute she is willing to share with me. It isn’t a chore like the women I used to get off with when my hand wasn’t enough.
Her pleasure is my pleasure.
Miranda’s pussy is so snug, amazingly firm around my cock, and wet. I pound into her without an ounce of resistance, only holding back to ensure the spasms her uterus faces are from the ebbs and flows of an incoming mind-hazing climax.
Her body quakes through my pounding thrusts, her knees skidding across the sheets, and her tits clapping from the force of my pumps.
I thrust harder.
“Take me.”
Faster.
“All of me.”
Rougher.
“Accept my cock like a good little wifey who can’t get enough.”
She comes with a cry, her pussy tightening around my throbbing shaft with the tightness of a fist.
“God,” I grunt out, my voice husky with lust. “You’re strangling my cock, begging it for its cum. You’re going to make me come so hard.”
I slap her ass, causing it to jiggle when her urge to drive me off a cliff sees her thrust back harder, fucking me as unrelentingly as I am fucking her.
She grinds her ass against me, taking me even deeper, before adding a teasing squeeze to every thrust.
I drive into her so fast the headboard no longer bangs against the wall. It bunny-hops away from it, the strength of my thrusts no match for the titanium-plated steel holding it together.
The bed’s legs wobble as intensely as Miranda’s thighs when she notices its sways. Her worry that the bed is about to fall into a heap beneath us doesn’t weaken the intensity of our exchange, though.
We fuck wildly. Crazily.
We move in sync like we’ve been dancing this madly passionate tango for years.
Then, just as the mattress crashes to the floor, Miranda comes again.
“Fuck,” I bite out, my balls throbbing as I try to stave off doing the same.
I lose the battle when Miranda shouts my name for the second time.
As I still my hips, I flare my nostrils, drinking in her scent, while my release pumps inside her in raring spurts.