3. 3 #2
The question landed harder than his touch.
My mouth opened, but no answer came. I'd wanted this to be about Victor losing control, Victor betraying his son, Victor refusing to leave me alone.
But his arm wasn't the reason my skin had gone hot beneath my sweatshirt.
It wasn't the reason my breathing had changed or why I'd been hurt when he'd let me walk away.
"Tell me you don't want this." He huffed, rolling his hips against my ass. "Tell me you don't want this and go out that door to my son."
I moaned and looked up at Brandon again. There he was, just feet away from me, separated by glass and sand. This was my chance to leave, to go out there and be with the man I loved.
All I had to do was say the words.
But I didn't.
"That's what I thought," Victor murmured against my earlobe. "That's what I thought."
Victor’s hands were already moving before I could form a protest. He bent me over the arm of the couch, and my hands sank into the cushions as my breath left me in a startled rush.
My stomach pressed against the padded arm, my upper body spilling onto the seat cushions while my hips remained raised behind me, Victor’s body following close enough that I could feel his heat along my back and his hips against me.
One of his hands settled firmly between my shoulder blades, holding me there while I tried to catch up with what was happening.
I buried my face in the cushions, hiding from Victor and, more importantly, blocking out the sight of my boyfriend outside.
His hand left my back, and he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and tugged, dragging the fabric over the curve of my ass and down my thighs, taking my panties with it.
I should have stopped him. Instead, still folded over the couch arm with my hands gripping the cushions, I lifted my hips automatically, traitorously, making it easier for him to strip me.
The shorts caught at my ankles before he pulled them free and tossed them aside with my ruined panties, leaving me bare from the waist down, exposed and vulnerable across the couch.
"Spread your legs," he commanded.
I did. I couldn't stop myself. The cool air hit my wet flesh and I shivered, my face burning with shame at how exposed I was.
Victor knelt behind me, his big hands gripping my ass cheeks, pushing them wide.
I turned my head away, staring at the stone hearth rather than looking toward the window where Brandon stood by the outdoor fire pit, silhouetted against the flames.
I couldn't bear to meet his eyes, not with his father's face inches from my naked cunt.
Victor made a low sound, almost a growl. "Look at you," he said, and I felt his breath hot against my inner thigh. "You're fucking drenched, Zoe. Soaked. Is this all for me?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, mortification flooding through me. God! He could see exactly how wet I was, my arousal glistening on my swollen lips, dripping onto the leather beneath me. I tried to close my legs but his grip tightened, holding me open for his inspection.
"Don't hide," he murmured. "I want to see how much you want this."
Then his mouth was on me.
I gasped, my back arching off the couch as his tongue dragged through my folds with devastating precision.
He licked me slowly, deliberately, tasting every inch of my slit, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out.
I imagined Brandon moving outside, could see the orange glow of the fire out of the corner of my eye, and the knowledge that he was right there while his father ate my pussy made the pleasure sharper, more obscene.
Victor's tongue found my clit and I moaned, unable to help myself.
He sucked the swollen bud between his lips, working it with his tongue in tight, relentless circles, while his hand slid up my thigh.
Two fingers pushed inside me without warning, thick and rough, curling to find that spot that made my vision blur.
"Fuck," I whimpered, my hips bucking against his face.
He didn't let up. His mouth stayed locked on my clit, sucking and licking, while his fingers pumped in and out of my cunt, filling me, stretching me, working me toward the edge. The wet sounds of his mouth on me filled the room, obscene and undeniable, mixing with my ragged breathing.
"Come for me," he said against my flesh, his voice vibrating through my core. "I can feel it. You're close."
"Please," I begged, not knowing what I was begging for. "Victor, I can't—Brandon will hear—"
Victor just growled, and attacked my clit with his tongue as if the idea of Brandon hearing us made him even hungrier. His fingers curled hard inside me, pressing, rubbing, demanding.
The orgasm crashed through me without warning.
My body seized, my pussy clenching around his fingers, and then I was gushing, hot liquid spilling out of me in pulses I couldn't control.
My hands flew out and I found the edge of the cushion.
I bit the edge and screamed into the leather, my hips jerking helplessly as Victor kept his mouth on me, drinking it down, his fingers still working me through the spasms. I squirted again and again, soaking his chin, the couch, my own thighs, until I was trembling and spent, my body limp and wrung out.
Victor lifted his head, his chin glistening with my juices, and smiled. "Good girl," he said, his voice rough with arousal. "So fucking wet for me."
He stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and I watched through hooded eyes as he unzipped his pants.
His cock sprang free, huge and heavy, thick veins running along the shaft, the head already leaking pre-cum.
It was obscene, terrifying, and so much bigger than Brandon's.
The sight of it made my stomach clench with anticipation and fear.
Victor wrapped his hand around his shaft and ran the fat head up my swollen lips. I moaned, my body eager for his cock, but Victor wasn't ready yet.
"Guide me in, Zoe. I want you to put me inside you."
I moaned and couldn't resist a look outside.
Brandon was still by the fire while his girlfriend's ass hovered in the air, waiting to be impaled by his father's bigger cock.
If I guided him to my cunt, I couldn't blame this all on him.
It would be my choice. Victor held back, his teeth gritted, running his cock up and down my slit and I couldn't help it.
I reached up with trembling hands and wrapped my fingers around his cock.
It was hot, throbbing, impossibly hard, and I felt a fresh wave of arousal spill from my cunt at the feel of him.
I positioned him at my entrance, my eyes fixed on the window, unable to look at him, unable to think about what I was doing as I lined up that massive head with my slick opening.
He filled me in one hard push, his cock splitting me open, stretching my walls around his thickness until I was stuffed completely, my body struggling to accommodate his size. I cried out, the sound muffled against my shoulder, and he paused, buried to the hilt, letting me feel every inch of him.
"Breathe," he murmured, his hands finding my hips. "Take it, baby. Take all of me."
It hurt, but not like the shower. There was less resistance this time, my body already primed from his mouth and fingers, my cunt slick and ready even as the size of him burned.
He pulled back slowly, the drag of his cock against my inner walls making me whimper, and then he thrust forward again, hard, slamming into me with a force that drove the air from my lungs.
He set a brutal pace, fucking me hard and deep, his hips snapping against mine with wet slaps that echoed in the quiet room.
I gripped the couch cushions, my knuckles white, my body jolting with every thrust. He pulled up my sweatshirt, and his rough hands found my breasts.
I moaned as he kneaded them, pinching my nipples between his fingers until I was arching into his touch despite myself.
"Touch yourself," he ordered. "Or better yet—come on my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me when you cum."
His hand stayed on my breast, pinching and rolling my nipple, while his other hand gripped my hip, pulling me into every thrust. He was hitting something deep inside me, and I could feel another orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly despite the shame.
"That's it," Victor grunted, his pace quickening. "You're so tight around me, Zoe. So fucking tight. Come for me. Come on my cock like a good little slut."
His words hit me hard, sending a shudder through my body.
I looked out the window, my eyes finding Brandon in the darkness, standing by the fire pit, his back to us, completely unaware that his father was buried balls deep in his girlfriend not twenty feet away.
The image seared itself into my brain, the betrayal, the obscenity, the sheer wrongness of it, and I came with a violence that shocked me.
My pussy clamped down hard on Victor's cock, milking him, my body jerking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me.
I bit the couch cushion, stuffing the fabric into my mouth to muffle my screams, my hips bucking wildly as I came harder than I ever had in my life.
My vision whited out, my toes curled, and I was lost in the sensation of Victor's cock pounding through my orgasm, extending it, drawing it out until I was sobbing into the leather.