6. Maura #2
Those pale gray eyes lock onto mine from below, dark with a danger that should scare me but instead sends another gush of slick dripping down his balls. I can feel them, heavy and drawn tight against me, ready to unload.
The cluster of girls reaches their sedan. One leans back against the hood, scrolling her phone, her voice carrying in bright, careless bursts that make my stomach flip even as my cunt clenches greedily around him.
If any of them glanced over, really looked, they'd see the faint rock of the Rover, the shadowed shapes of a man twice my size and the woman on his lap.
They don't look. My thighs tremble violently from holding this position, muscles burning, but I can't stop the slow drag of my pussy up his length and the filthy, wet squelch as I sink back down.
Mark growls against my nipple, the low vibration shooting straight to my clit like an electric shock. Milk sprays lightly across his tongue; I feel him swallow, throat working, and it makes something deep in my belly twist with filthy shame and raw need.
"Maura." His voice scrapes against my wet skin, barely more than a rasp, all gravel and threat. "You keep fucking me like that and those girls are gonna hear exactly how hard you come on my dick."
The words ignite me. Heat floods my cheeks, my chest, prickling across my skin as I brace my hands on his broad shoulders—shoulders so wide I have to stretch to grip them properly—and slam myself down.
His cock hits so deep the stretch burns in the best way, forcing a broken whimper from my throat. I love how full he makes me, how there's no room left for anything but him.
He switches to my other breast without warning, latching on viciously, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before he sucks hard enough to make my vision spark.
One huge hand slides up my bare spine, fingers tangling in my damp hair, tugging until my back arches sharply and my tits thrust further into his greedy mouth.
The pull on my scalp sends sparks racing down my nerves. His other hand stays locked on my ass, kneading the stinging flesh like he's barely restraining himself from spanking me raw right here.
The girls finally pile in. Car doors slam—one, two, three—each one making my heart jolt even as my hips keep rolling, chasing that orgasm that's taunting me, hovering just out of reach.
My thighs scream with effort, sweat trickling down the curve of my spine to where his fingers grip me. The wet, rhythmic sounds of my soaked pussy sliding up and down his massive cock fill the Rover, loud and obscene, impossible to ignore.
Every downward stroke drags perfectly over that spot inside me that makes my toes curl and my breath hitch.
Their engine coughs to life. Taillights flare red, then the car reverses and glides away, disappearing around the corner with a final, fading rumble.
The second the sound dies, Mark's control shatters.
His palm cracks across my ass in a sharp, stinging slap that blooms into liquid heat between my legs. I cry out, the sound raw and needy, my pussy clamping down hard around him.
"Bad fucking girl," he growls against my dripping nipple, voice wrecked and low. "Couldn't wait until we got home? Had to milk my cock right here where anyone could hear you moaning like a little slut?"
The filthy words, the burning imprint of his hand, the brutal snap of his hips driving up into me—they shove me violently over the edge.
My orgasm crashes through me like a wave breaking, pussy spasming in tight, rhythmic pulses that try to pull him even deeper. My mouth drops open on a silent, shuddering cry, back bowing as milk leaks faster from both breasts, warm and slick, streaming down my curves.
He drinks it down greedily, groaning deep in his chest, the vibration traveling through my ribs and straight into my clenching core.
My thighs shake uncontrollably around his waist, every muscle locked in ecstasy while my mind blanks out in pure, white-hot bliss.
Mark doesn’t stop. He fucks up into me through my orgasm, hips snapping hard, chasing his own release. One hand stays on my ass, spanking again, lighter this time but still enough to make me clench tighter around him.
“Gonna come so deep in this pussy,” he rasps against my wet nipple. “Gonna fill you until it takes. Want you pregnant with my baby, Maura. Want everyone to know who fucked you full. Who you belong to now.”
His thrusts turn erratic, brutal. The Rover really rocks now. My clit drags against his pelvis with every upward stroke. Another smaller orgasm rolls through me, surprising and sharp.
Mark buries his face between my breasts and comes with a low, guttural sound. I feel the hot rush of him inside me, pulse after pulse, so much it leaks out around where we’re joined. His cock kicks and throbs, painting my walls.
For a long moment we stay locked together, breathing hard. My forehead drops to his shoulder. The white shirt is damp with sweat and a little milk. His hands stroke up and down my bare back, almost gentle now.
“You drive me crazy, Maura.”
The words rumble out of his chest, raw and honest. I smile against his neck even though my legs are shaking and my pussy is still fluttering around his softening cock.
He stays inside me a while longer, like he can’t bear to separate us yet. One hand cups the back of my head, holding me against him. The other traces lazy circles on my ass where he spanked me.
Eventually he shifts, reaching into the glove box for a pack of wipes. He cleans me carefully, wiping away the mess between my thighs, then his own lap. The tenderness after the filth feels almost too much. I stay quiet, letting him take care of me.
When we’re both decent again—my dress back on, his pants fastened—he starts the engine. The Rover rolls smoothly out of the lot.
My body feels loose and used and strangely light. The pressure in my chest is gone. So is the ache between my legs, replaced by a deep, satisfied soreness.
Mark rests one hand on my thigh as he drives, thumb stroking the skin just under the hem of my dress. Possessive. Constant.
I lean my head against the cool window and watch the lights streak by. The mansion waits for us. His house. Our house now, I guess. The thought should scare me more than it does.
Instead it settles warm in my stomach, right next to the place where his come is still slowly leaking out of me.
I don’t say anything. Neither does he. The silence feels comfortable, full of everything we haven’t figured out how to name yet.
His hand tightens on my thigh once, like he can read my thoughts.
We drive the rest of the way home without another word.