Chapter 36 Stan
THIRTY-SIX
STAN
Playlist recommendation:
Purple Haze - Jimi Hendrix
Dagger and I parted amicably—fortuitous considering the situation.
He raised his hand in a half-wave that I reciprocated before slogging my way back to the bunkhouse. I frowned when the door handle turned and I gained entry to the small building.
I half-expected to find myself in the middle of a verbal sparring match between Kitty and her sisters, and instead silence greeted me.
For a moment, my ears rang—that was how quiet it was in here. The hum of the refrigerator reverberated around the space until the music returned with a shriek and a guitar riff that, to my exhausted ear, sounded like “Purple Haze.”
Walking through the bunkhouse and encountering the absence of the three sisters, I trudged onward. Then, I grimaced when I saw my room was empty.
Until it wasn’t.
As I made a note for future Stan, one that informed him Kitty would always react in unexpected ways and to expect that if nothing else, I braced for the bundle of arms and legs that hurled themselves at me once the door collided with the wall then ricocheted with a bang.
The only perk being it latched with a loud click.
Pretty certain this was an attack for the audacity of sliding that ring on her finger, I didn’t fight—the word ‘presumptuous’ summed up my actions and deserved payback. Then, her legs tightened around my hips, hands tugging at my undershirt, yanking it from my waistband.
Relieved that payback involved kisses, I let her devour my mouth, enjoying her fervor, reveling in how her ardency matched my own.
To be wanted by her was more than I…
Fuck.
Just fuck.
Her nails dragged over my lats, scoring into my skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t last long enough.
I wanted her to carve her name into me, to let the whole fucking world know that I was hers and she was mine.
Not even that much of a claiming would be enough.
I knew myself too well to think otherwise.
It didn’t occur to me not to open up to her, letting her thrust her tongue inside as I turned us against the wall.
Her ferocious need felt like a benediction I didn’t deserve but would take anyway.
Even as I knew I’d follow through with this, I recognized how she deserved candlelight and soft music and shadows. Not a grody bunkhouse bedroom wall that had seen only God knew what kind of action. But I needed in her like I needed my next breath.
She writhed against me once I’d pressed her into the wall. Her fingers shifted, moving to cup my head, and I felt her rings digging into my skull as they ran through my hair, urging me for more. To move faster. To give her what she needed. To stop waiting.
Kitty was a woman who knew precisely what she wanted. And I wasn’t about to argue with her. Not this fucking time.
I swiftly realized that she’d stripped out of everything but my shirt before her full-frontal attack. Which had me so hard, the second my cock came within an inch of her cunt I was going to blow.
But the absence of covering infuriated me like nothing else could.
I pulled away, only so I could demand around a snarl, “You wore a camisole to bed. I know you did. So tell me you didn’t go outside with nothing under my shirt, bedda mia?”
Her eyes were feral, enough that getting an answer out of her might prove impossible.
But her response was a wicked laugh that acted like a stroke of her tongue over the head of my dick. “Of course I didn’t. I stripped off before I came in your room.”
My shirt soared over her head, revealing her nude form to me—another reply.
God, I loved her version of backtalk.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I growled, my possessiveness appeased by the sight of her stripping out of my clothes.
Her hands smoothed over her tits, nails digging into the nipples, tweaking and pulling as she wriggled against me like a wet goddamn dream.
Her throaty purr signed my death warrant. “I need you to be back inside me, Stan.”
The reminder of this morning’s blow job had me snarling, “You want my cock, gattaredda?”
“Yes. I need to come around you! Please. God, I need you.”
“You took me in your mouth, Kitty. Do you think your pussy can handle me?”
“Yes! I want to take all of you. I want you to be proud of me—”
“I am, duci. So proud. Already so proud of you.”
Burrowing between us, I unbuckled my belt. Flicked open the button. Dragged down the zipper. Hissed in relief to be fucking free.
Once I felt her heat, I closed my eyes before running the tip through her folds.
“N-No, not like that,” she keened.
Eyes wide, I watched as she pressed my cock against her clit then pulsed her hips in short thrusts.
Frowning, it registered that I’d been making longer sweeps, not the shorter thrusts that triggered a flush of heat which crested over her breasts.
Making a mental note of her preference, I snagged her hand, pinned it to the wall, then took over. “Does this make you wet, duci?”
“Can’t you feel it?” she whined, throat arching as I gave her what she’d asked for.
“I can. You’re going to feel as hot as hell when I get inside you.” That earned me a keening wail. “You like this, baby girl?” I replaced my dick with my fingers.
“Faster.” Her head wobbled on her neck. “Faster. Please. Fuck, Stan. I just know you’ll get me there. Please. FUCK.”
Wanting to erase every other asshole who’d touched her before me, I did as she pleaded.
You could say many things about me, a lot of them shit, but I was a quick learner and I always listened to the women in my life.
“Up and down like this? Or left and right?”
“That! That!” she mewled, the words quiet as she released them on a breath. Her face scrunched up, her beautiful features crumpling as the stirrings of pleasure began to crest.
Sensing I was on the right track, I persevered, locked my focus on her orgasm, and didn’t stop until her body grew tenser, muscles stiffening as she arched against the wall.
For a moment, she hovered there, frozen.
Her face cleared, eyes popping open as she stared blindly ahead.
The silence of the room ruptured only by the sounds of my breathing, not hers, then she burst.
Her cries sent my blood pressure skyrocketing as she cascaded before my very eyes.
Silvery tracks made a swift appearance, tears rolling down her cheeks with her unaware as she remained lost to an abyss that had her sobbing.
Taking that as a good sign, I propped her up. Leaning into her and letting my tongue trace the droplets that coursed along her silken skin, I slid my fingers down and circled her still-pulsing slit.
A shudder racked her and she hissed, pinning me with a stare, wild and hungry and everything I never dreamed of seeing looking back at me.
“You want my dick, duci? Or is this pretty, little pussy too sensitive?”
Sighing, moaning, squirming, her entire body caressed mine, leaving me feeling as if I’d been kissed by the divine. “Sensitive but it’ll feel soooo good.” She slurred the words. “Fill me, Stan. Please. Pretty please?”
“God, how could I refuse you anything when you ask me like that, gattaredda?”
Blood pressure soaring, I shifted angles so I could let the head of my dick rub rings around her.
When she was wiggling once more, I slipped the tip inside her.
Her heels dug furrows in my ass, back arching again, shoving her tits into my face.
I growled at the sight then burrowed between them as, slowly, countering the heavy pressure of her heels that urged me onward, I found my own heaven on earth.
Sucking on her tits was about to become a favorite pastime.
Especially since she was so into it.
I could tell the way I feasted turned her on.
Still, my àncilu had been born to be worshiped, and I was nothing but a supplicant at her altar. So I taunted her, testing her nipples with my teeth, sucking on them hard enough that I knew I was one pregnancy away from a lactation kink.
She bucked against me, hands dragging over my skull, pleading, “Stan, please, fuck. Why are you going so slow?!”
Smirking as I bit her nipple, enjoying her yelp, I pumped my hips and sank in as far as her slit would let me.
The sudden surge of volume from the music outside shadowed her scream. A bunch of fuckwits laughed and sang beyond our window, but she was past caring.
I, however, cared.
No one would hear her pleasure but me in the future.
No one.
Angry about the lack of privacy, similarly aware that I didn’t want to take that out on her, I lashed the tender bud with my tongue.
Completely in the dark about my temper tantrum, she wailed as her cunt tensed around me, sheath clinging and taut as she struggled with my girth.
Sensing her distress, I stilled all movements. “It’s okay, baby. Breathe. Breathe.” I peppered her chest with kisses, shifting higher until I could devour her mouth.
I thrust my tongue between her lips, fucking her there like I couldn’t fuck her pussy. Yet. And as I stole her breath and filled up my metaphorical cup with her, I savored our connection.
It sank into me.
Like a visceral, tangible entity.
Like until tonight, I’d been exsanguinated.
Like until her, I’d been denied air.
Both rushed through me, filling me with the life I didn’t know I’d been drained of.
I’d been lost.
Until she’d found me.
As I pushed my forehead into hers, I let her acclimate to my size.
Inwardly cursing myself for being rough when my cock was too big for that, I focused on distracting her.
In slow increments, I rocked my hips, and she responded by bearing down, letting me breach heaven’s gates.
Every inch I claimed earned me a moan until she keened into my mouth with a single, endless cry. Needing to reward her, I returned to that petting she’d enjoyed before.
The change was immediate. Her cunt relaxed in a soft shudder that let me thrust another two inches deeper. Her nails dug into my shoulders, tugging and ripping at my skin as she responded to the new fullness by biting my lip.
Hard enough for the little cat to draw blood.
Savoring the sting, I hissed. Pain mingled with pleasure, triggering a flood of Sicilian I’d never translate.
Words like my angel. My future. My promise. My treasure.
All the truth, but sentiments she wasn’t ready to hear.
Yet.
Still toying with her clit, I waited for her to kick my ass with her heel. Accepting that as permission to continue, I grabbed her butt with my other hand and shifted the angle so that when I bucked into her, she bucked right back.
Fucking her, I gave her what she’d asked for. Hard. Fast. I screwed her into the goddamn wall.
Then, her fingers pressed between us, not stopping until I made space for her. Unsure of her game, I slowed down, then blinked when she showed me how she wanted me to touch her. My ego had no idea how to react, but mostly, I didn’t care so long as she orgasmed again.
I needed to feel her climax around my cock right this fucking second.
“Oh, god, Stan, why are you so big?” Well, that stroked my slightly bruised ego. “You’re so fucking thick. Christ, you—” She sobbed. “Fuck, I-I can’t. I need you. But you’re so—” She gulped down air. “MOVE. Jesus! Move!”
“Keep going, duci,” I growled. “I love to hear you moan for me.”
Her face crumpled again, a sight I had to figure warned me that her release neared.
“That’s it. Come on, baby. Come for me. I want to feel it. I want to see it. I won’t fucking stop until you’re creaming around me. Do you understand? Tell me. I want to hear it.”
“I-I do,” she cried, head whipping from side to side. “I mean. Yes. No. I-I… God, I can’t. This is too much. Too much.”
“Not enough. Who’s making you feel like this? Who?” I nipped her chin, mimicking her earlier attack.
“Y-You,” she whimpered. “You. Stan. Stan. Mine. Stan. Please. Please. Pl—”
Well, that needed a fucking reward.
Mine?
Hell to the fucking yes.
Knowing it’d drive her insane, I purposely changed my pace, shorter, slower, shallower thrusts as I teased her clit.
“NO!”
She lit up like a Christmas tree and squealed. Again.
I fucking loved that noise on her.
A part of me knew it embarrassed her.
Undoubtedly, she thought she was too cool to squeal around me.
Well, she’d learn her lesson pretty fucking fast.
I’d earn every single goddamn squeal I could.
I only had a lifetime to collect them and that wasn’t long enough.
“Yes, yes, yes. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.” The litany was as panicked as the fluttering of her cunt around me.
And she came.
Like before, it was an about-face from what I expected.
She stilled. Turned to ice. Stopped breathing. Stopped talking. Stopped everything.
And it was my turn to panic.
Then, her eyes popped open.
And I saw it.
It.
A pleasure so brutal, so agonizing it pinned her in place, forced her muscles into submission as her cunt choked my cock so tightly that I saw stars with her.
But her pinnacle was there—proof in her very eyes.
And she held it.
And held it.
And held it.
Until she burst.
A squall came with it.
Drenching me and my pants.
The triumph I felt soared through me because the returning panic in her expression was worth it as she came and she came and she came.
I fucked her through it. Taking what I needed now, wanting to pump her full of my cum as I rubbed her clit harder, wider, sweeping circles that continued to feed the fury of her release.
“Chista è da me.” I grated out the words ‘you’re mine’ as I coated her cervix with my seed. Knowing that what I wanted was out of reach. For the moment, I couldn’t fill her with my baby. Fucking yet. So I rumbled, “Sempri.”
Always.
And that wouldn’t be long enough.