10. Zane #2
I suck hard, hollowing my cheeks, tongue flicking mercilessly over the sensitive bud while my teeth graze just enough to make her cry out. Her back arches, pushing more of her breast into my mouth like an offering.
I lave the other nipple with the same devotion, sucking and biting until both are swollen and glistening. All the while, my hand slides up her thigh, under the hem of her skirt, pushing the fabric higher until it bunches uselessly around her waist.
She’s soaked through her underwear. The heat of her burns against my fingers. I pull the lace aside and slide two thick fingers through her slick folds, parting her, coating myself in her wetness before pushing both inside her tight cunt in one smooth stroke.
“God,” I mutter against her breast, the word half prayer, half curse.
Celine clenches around my fingers, velvet heat and pulsing need. I curl them, stroking that spongy spot deep inside her while my thumb finds her swollen clit and begins slow, devastating circles.
The wet, obscene sounds of my fingers fucking her fill the quiet kitchen, louder than the distant hum of the city far below.
I watch her face as I work her—the flush creeping down her neck, the way her lips part on every broken moan, the fierce resentment still burning in her eyes even as her hips start rolling shamelessly against my hand.
I add a third finger, stretching her wider, fucking her deeper with long, deliberate strokes.
My mouth returns to her breasts, sucking one nipple deep while I pinch the other, twisting just enough to walk the line between pleasure and pain. Her thighs tremble violently around my waist. I can feel her getting closer, the walls of her cunt fluttering and gripping.
“Look at me,” I command softly, voice rough with lust.
Her eyes meet mine, glassy and furious and desperate. I keep the rhythm steady, relentless, grinding the heel of my palm against her clit with every thrust of my fingers.
“Come for me, Celine. Let me feel this pretty cunt fall apart.”
She breaks with a shattered cry, back bowing, thighs locking around me as her orgasm crashes through her.
Her inner walls clamp down hard on my fingers, pulsing in waves.
I keep fucking her through it, slower now but no less deep, drawing every last tremor from her body until she’s shaking and gasping, slumped against my chest.
I don’t let her rest.
I pull my fingers from her dripping heat, spin her around on the counter, and bend her forward until her breasts press against the cool marble. She braces her hands on the surface, breathing hard.
I shove her skirt all the way up to her waist and drag her ruined underwear down her legs, letting it catch at one ankle.
Her ass is perfect—round and soft, marked faintly where my fingers gripped her earlier.
I spread her open with both hands and stare at her glistening, flushed pussy, still twitching from her orgasm.
My cock is aching, thick and heavy against my zipper. I free it and rub the swollen head up and down her slit, coating myself in her slickness, teasing her entrance without giving her what she needs.
“You still hate me?” I ask, voice low and dark against the back of her neck.
“Yes,” she hisses, pushing back against me, trying to take me inside.
I smile, savage and satisfied. Gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, I thrust forward, burying my cock to the hilt in one devastating stroke. The tight, wet heat of her cunt envelops me completely. She’s still fluttering from her first orgasm, rippling around my thickness as I stretch her open.
A guttural sound tears from my throat. I hold myself deep for a moment, savoring the way her body struggles to take all of me, then I begin to move.
I fuck her hard. Long, powerful strokes that slam her hips into the marble counter with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the kitchen.
I keep one hand fisted in her hair, the other braced on her lower back, holding her exactly where I want her as I drive into her again and again.
Every thrust is deep, deliberate, claiming.
Her cunt grips me like it was made for this, hot and slick and perfect.
“Fuck, Celine,” I growl, voice low and rough. “You feel so goddamn good.”
She moans loudly, pushing back to meet every brutal thrust, even as her fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth marble counter.
I angle my hips and drive into that spot inside her that makes her cry out sharply every single time. I keep pounding into it with relentless force, my heavy balls slapping wetly against her swollen clit on every forward drive. Sweat beads along my spine and drips down my chest as I fuck her.
I look down between us, mesmerized. Her cunt is perfect—flushed dark pink, glistening, and stretched obscenely wide around the thick shaft of my cock.
Every time I pull out, her puffy outer lips cling to me, shiny with her cream and my precum, before I slam back in and disappear completely inside her tight heat.
She’s so wet that it drips down her thighs in thin, shiny rivulets, coating my balls and the base of my cock with every thrust. Her inner walls grip me like velvet fire, rippling and sucking me deeper on every stroke.
This woman is the most perfect I have ever fucked. No one has ever taken me like this—this combination of fury and surrender, this tight, greedy little cunt that was made for me. The thought burns through my mind as I watch myself disappear inside her again and again.
I reach around her body and fill my hands with her breasts, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh hard while I continue fucking her.
Her nipples are tight, aching points against my palms. I pinch and roll them between my fingers, tugging sharply in time with my thrusts, using her tits as leverage to pull her back onto my cock even harder.
Her back arches beautifully, offering herself to me completely, even while that sharp thread of hatred still runs through every moan and shudder of her surrender.