Chapter 9 Pumpkin Patch Disaster #7
Every roll of his hips dragged fire through my body, nerves singing, hole spasming greedily around his cock. Sweat bloomed between us, slicking our skin, sticking my back to the sheets as he fucked in deep and slow, building the tension until it felt like my heart might break.
Words spilled out of him—praise and filth, raw and relentless. “Taking it so good, baby. Stretching so fucking sweet for me. That’s it, give it all up, let me own you.”
Each stroke hit deeper, harder, the pace brutal, relentless.
My hands flew to his back, nails raking down muscle, desperate for something to anchor me as he started pounding, cock driving in to the root with every thrust. I could feel the bed rock beneath us, hear the slap of skin, the wet sounds where he fucked into me, where his body pressed against mine.
The mirror caught every filthy detail. Our bodies tangled, his cock plunging in and out, my hole stretched wide and pink, glistening with spit and lube and need. Derek watched, mesmerized, groaning every time my body clenched, every time I cried out, every time I begged for more.
A hand slipped between us, finding my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. “Want you hard for me, want you leaking, want you desperate. Show me how much you love getting ruined.”
I could barely speak, every word coming out a gasp, a plea. “Don’t stop—don’t ever stop. Need you so fucking bad, need it, Derek, need you to break me.”
He changed the angle, planting his feet on the mattress, squatting low and slamming in deeper, rougher, the head of his cock grinding against my prostate with surgical precision. Sparks exploded behind my eyes, vision blurring, cries torn from my lips as he drove me closer and closer to the edge.
“Beg for it,” he demanded, voice gone savage, hips pistoning, sweat dripping from his chin onto my chest. “Tell me how much you want to be filled, want to be bred, want to belong to me.”
Desperation clawed up my spine, words spilling out with no filter. “Yours—fuck, I’m yours, all yours, want you to fill me up, want to be dripping, want to feel you for days—please, Derek, need it, need all of you.”
“That’s it,” he growled, hand tightening on my throat, not choking, just holding, owning. “Open up for me, take it, show me who you belong to.”
The rhythm grew savage, cock spearing into me with a force that made my toes curl, made my body tremble, made my mind go blank with the sheer force of his need.
Every thrust was a claim, a promise, a demand.
The pressure built and built, pleasure blooming wild and sharp, pain and want tangled together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
His free hand left my cock to grab my thigh, spreading me wider, holding me open so he could watch his cock disappear again and again inside me. The sight of it—slick, obscene, gliding in and out, my hole stretched red and hungry around him—sent another surge of need crashing through me.
The words kept coming, both of us lost to the mess of it, the rawness, the honesty. “Want to see you come just from getting fucked, want to see you lose it, want to ruin you for anyone else.”
My whole body trembled on the edge, every muscle tight, every nerve raw. Sweat dripped down my face, chest heaving, mouth open on a silent scream as Derek drove me higher and higher, cock pulsing inside, never letting up, never slowing down.
Fingers pressed to my lips, two of them, wet and tasting of lube and skin. “Suck,” he commanded, and I did, desperate, tongue swirling, eyes locked on his in the mirror.
“That’s my good boy,” Derek praised, hips snapping faster, harder, the slap of our bodies echoing through the room, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat and want.
Derek’s fingers slid from my mouth, leaving my lips parted, wet, and aching for more.
Muscled arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me up, never once breaking the connection inside.
I gasped as my body shifted, face pressed to the cool glass of the mirrored wall, ass high, Derek’s cock buried deep, grinding against that spot that left me dizzy.
The reflection caught everything—my flushed face, parted lips, his massive frame flexed behind me, veins and muscle standing out beneath sweat-slicked skin, a living fantasy of need and dominance.
Large palms planted hard on my hips, thumbs digging bruises, guiding me back into the punishing rhythm he set.
My whole body rocked with every thrust, my cock swinging helplessly, drool wetting the glass as I moaned, eyes locked on our filthy reflection.
“Keep your eyes up,” Derek growled, voice rough velvet, hungry and full of command.
“Wanna see what you look like when I break you open—wanna remember this forever.”
The world narrowed to the heat of him inside me, the slap of skin, the sound of his breath getting ragged, deeper, more desperate.
His chest pressed to my back, mouth biting at my neck, teeth scraping just enough to make my toes curl.
One arm snaked around, squeezing my throat—not tight, just enough to make me arch, to make the air catch and the blood roar in my ears.
“Take it for me, Miles. Every inch. Every drop. Fuck yourself on me, let me see you beg for it.”
I pushed back, wild with the need to be filled, to be claimed, every nerve stretched thin, my own moans a broken soundtrack in the humid air. The mirror reflected everything—the glistening mess of my hole stretched around him, his hips flexing, biceps bulging as he held me still and ruined me.
Derek’s grip shifted, pinning my wrists to the glass, spreading me wider, grinding his cock deeper.
“Gonna breed you right here, let you watch the mess I make of you. Gonna mark you where everyone can see, so you never forget who owns you.” Each word landed like a spark, setting off a chain reaction under my skin.
My cock throbbed untouched, leaking onto the glass, every thrust shoving me closer to the edge.
His thrusts lost their rhythm, stuttering, going harder, deeper, the sound of his body slamming into mine echoing around the room.
Sweat dripped from his jaw onto my spine, his moans a guttural counterpoint to my begging.
“Gonna fill you, baby. Gonna watch you take it all—my cum, my cock, all of me.” His abs flexed against my back, the thick length of him grinding into the deepest part of me, making me see stars, my vision a blur of need and bliss.
My knees nearly buckled, but he held me up, keeping me spread, open, ready for everything. “Come for me,” he demanded, voice trembling on the edge. “Don’t touch yourself—just let me fuck you into it.”
The first spurt of heat filled me, thick and endless, his cock pulsing deep, a groan ripped from his chest as he spilled inside, grinding his hips, making sure I took every drop.
My body shuddered, hole clutching him tight, milking every bit, the sensation so overwhelming I almost sobbed.
“God, you feel so fucking good—so perfect for me,” he panted, hands everywhere, still flexing, showing off for both of us in the mirror, sweat and cum streaking his chest and abs.
But he wasn’t done. Derek slid out slow, watching the white mess drip from my hole in the mirror, then spun me around and pushed me to my knees right in front of him.
His cock glistened, still hard, coated in our combined release, thick veins pulsing under my tongue as I leaned in, hungry to taste everything he’d just given me.
Big hands tangled in my hair, holding me steady as he fed me his cock, sliding past my lips with filthy ease. His voice was all command and praise. “Show me how grateful you are, baby. Clean me up—let me see how hungry you are for what I give you.”
My mouth worked him slow and deep, tongue swirling, swallowing every trace of cum, eyes locked on the reflection where I knelt—ruined, messy, owned.
Derek flexed for me, biceps and pecs popping, sweat dripping, every inch of him pure power and need.
My own cock bounced helplessly, drooling precome onto my thighs.
Fingers traced my jaw, thumb pulling my mouth open wider, sliding deep until I gagged around the thickness, spit streaming down my chin.
“Take it, all of it. Need to see you swallow—need to know you can handle everything I give.” His voice was shaking now, the aftershocks still running through both of us.
The taste of him—salt, sweat, the lingering heat of climax—sent me spiraling.
He finally let go, dropping to his knees in front of me, mouth crashing onto mine, sharing the taste, tongues tangling, kisses filthy and hungry and endless.
Rough hands pushed me back onto the bed, fingers never stopping, stroking my cock, milking me slow, teasing the head with his palm.
A wordless sound left me, more need than sense, hips thrusting up into his grip.
Derek’s mouth moved lower, sucking my balls, then my shaft, working me with practiced worship.
Each time his lips closed over the head, he moaned around me, letting the vibration drive me wild, taking me deeper, swallowing me down to the root.
Eyes met mine in the mirror—his wild, mine desperate, both of us lost to the moment. “Gonna make you come for me,” he promised, breath hot against my skin. “Wanna taste you—wanna watch you lose it. Give it to me, Miles.”
The pace was relentless, mouth and hand working together, tongue swirling, lips tight, throat flexing around my cock.
The pressure built, so much I could barely breathe, vision blurring as my body tensed.
My hand found his hair, anchoring myself as the world went white, climax tearing through me so hard I nearly blacked out.
Hot jets painted his tongue, his throat, and he swallowed it all, not letting a single drop escape, his moans making my body convulse in aftershocks.
The world steadied, heart still pounding, every nerve still humming with the aftershocks.
Derek released my cock with a soft, obscene sound, kissing the tip, savoring the last drops before finally letting me go.
I tried to breathe, slumping forward, boneless and sated, forehead pressing to the sheet, sweat cooling against my skin.
Behind me, Derek moved slow—so different from the way he’d taken me a moment ago. Warm hands braced my hips, pulling me up just enough so he could watch my release leak from my spent, still-stretched hole. The sight made his breath catch, a low, satisfied noise that rumbled through his chest.
“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered, voice all awe and possession.
Gentle fingers traced along the inside of my thigh, catching the slick mess, spreading it with reverence before bending down, mouth sealing over my hole, tongue lapping, cleaning me up.
Every touch now was worshipful, coaxing out the last shivers of pleasure until I whimpered, too sensitive, but unable to pull away.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me off trembling knees.
Derek kissed the base of my spine, nuzzled against my hip, then slid up my body, pressing soft kisses along my back, my shoulder, my neck.
I melted into his arms, letting him gather me up, the world shrinking to the safety of his hold.
“Come on,” Derek murmured, voice ragged but gentle, guiding me to the center of the bed. Pillows were fluffed, blankets smoothed out—his carefulness almost made me ache. I collapsed into the softness, and he followed, arms caging me in, his weight a comfort, not a demand.
Lips found mine again, this time slow and searching, no rush, just the taste of comfort and the salt of sweat and the last remnants of something wild. I sighed into his mouth, threading my fingers through his hair, letting myself be kissed, letting myself be.
He tucked us under the covers, bodies still sticky, tangled, not bothering to clean up more than what he already had. Derek’s hand found my cheek, thumb stroking, eyes soft and so full of something I wasn’t ready to name.
“Stay,” he whispered. Not a demand. A plea, low and hopeful. “Don’t go home tonight. Just…stay with me.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest, a glow that spread to every tired muscle. “Yeah,” I breathed. “I want to.”
His smile broke open, real and unguarded, and he pressed his forehead to mine, breath mingling. “Good. Didn’t want to wake up without you.”
A laugh slipped out, quiet and a little disbelieving, but I meant every word. “Not planning on going anywhere.”
Derek pulled me closer, our bodies slotting together, his arms the safest place I’d ever known. The adrenaline faded, leaving only the warmth, the softness, the slow thump of two hearts trying to find a rhythm.
He kissed me again—slow, sweet, the kind that promised more than just sex, the kind that made me hope. My hand found his, fingers lacing together, holding tight as the night settled around us.
“Good night, Miles,” he whispered, voice threaded with sleep and something deeper.
“Night, Derek.”
The last thing I felt was his thumb tracing gentle circles over my knuckles, grounding me, holding me there as I drifted, safe and wanted and, for the first time in a long time, home.