CHAPTER 7 – DOUBLE TROUBLE #2
Then I kiss him again, deeper, wetter, letting every bit of hunger and want pour out. He slides his hands up my back, fingers curling into my hair, and it’s all heat and pressure and friction.
There’s no pretense left, no “should we” or “is this okay.” It’s just him, me, and the certainty that if we stopped now, we’d regret it forever.
His mouth moves to my throat, biting just enough to hurt, and I arch into it, desperate for more. My hands are on his chest, his arms, everywhere at once. I want to touch every inch, taste every part of him, memorize the way his skin feels under my fingers.
He groans, low and guttural, and the sound goes straight to my core. I grind down, rubbing my wetness against his cock, and the friction makes me whimper.
“Eliza,” he growls. “If we keep going—”
“Don’t stop,” I plead, and I mean it.
He kisses me again, and this time it’s even better: wild, unrestrained, as if he’s waited years for this.
I feel weightless, drunk on him, every nerve ending set to maximum. I don’t care if the neighbors can see, don’t care if my parents are out there somewhere, don’t care about anything except this man, and the way he makes me feel.
Jack pulls back just enough to look at me, really look, his eyes burning, and sees my need. He sees my flushed cheeks, the way I breathe, and the longing in my eyes.
He smiles, all predator and promise, and then stands, lifting me with him like I weigh nothing at all.
“You’re coming with me,” he growls.
He doesn’t ask. He just carries me, my legs wrapped around his waist, down the hall … and into the dark of the bedroom.
I’ve never been carried by a man before—at least, not like this, not all the way to a bed, not with my heart hammering so hard I’m sure I could power a small village off the voltage in my chest. Jack’s arms are iron around my legs, one palm splayed at the small of my back, the other holding my ass so tightly my dress nearly rides up to my waist. I should be mortified at how much I’m enjoying this, but the sound I make when he bumps my shoulder against the hallway wall is one of pure feminine need, dying to be claimed by a powerful male animal.
“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. I got you.”
The bedroom is everything I’d expect: monastic, neat, efficient, but big enough to land a drone in.
The bed is a king, the comforter a hard-wearing navy, the sheets tucked with military precision.
There’s no clutter, just a battered nightstand and, in the corner, a black standing locker with a padlock.
I wonder what’s in there—guns, maybe, or flight suits, or secrets.
Jack drops me on the mattress like he’s making a point, and comes down after in an instant, pinning me with his body weight. The kiss is hot and greedy, my hands clawing at his shirt, his tongue all the way in my mouth, wet, possessive, and perfect.
“I want you naked,” he growls.
I oblige, or try to, but he’s already peeling my dress up and over, baring my bra and panties in one smooth motion. He yanks the straps down, exposing my breasts, and cups the ivory orbs in his hands, thumbs tracing my pink nipples until they’re tight and throbbing.
“Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” he says, eyes going dark.
He isn’t gentle, not even close. He licks and sucks at my tits, one then the other, alternating pressure until I’m squirming under him, moaning like I’m on camera.
But this isn’t a performance because there is no audience, no tips, and no likes.
It’s just me, this man, and the thick, wild energy of primal need.
He pulls back for a second, breathing hard. “I want to see you,” he says. “Lie back, baby, and spread your legs.”
I prop myself up on my elbows, hair loose and wild. I let him gaze over every inch of me on display—big tits, wide hips, thighs that don’t quit, belly that’s soft but strong. He stares like he’s memorizing the view.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, and I go warm inside at the adoration.
Jack strips next, fast and efficient. His shirt goes first—shoulders broad, arms cut, chest dusted with a perfect amount of dark hair.
The scar I noticed on his hand is nothing compared to a white slash down his left ribs, old but still angry-looking.
Did I see it before? I suppose I must have, but I was so caught up in the quick furtiveness of our previous encounters that I didn’t notice.
But now, I want to touch it, and do, running my finger down the ridge. He shivers.
“Got that in the line of duty?” I whisper.
He grins. “Got that falling off a motorcycle. Shhh, don’t tell anyone.”
He’s already hard, cock bulging through his boxers.
He shucks them off in one move, and oh my god, but he’s huge.
I’ve literally fucked this dick before, but I swallow, eyes going wide because seeing it again makes me nervous.
The ten inches are stiff and thick, with glorious veins bulging along the left and right sides.
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
He notices, smirks, and guides my hand to that massive, dripping shaft. “You know what to do, sweetheart. You’ve seen this movie before.”
I do. I wrap my fingers around him, stroking slow, loving the way it jumps in my hand. I squeeze, twist, rub my thumb over the leaking tip. He hisses in pleasure, head dropping to my shoulder.
“God, you’re sexy,” he grits out.
I smile, and then I do what I always do on camera when I want to really drive the crowd wild—I lean in, lick the tip, and take him into my mouth, just a bit, just to tease.
But Jack isn’t a passive customer hidden behind a screen.
He fists my hair and pushes deeper, making me take more, and more, until I’m gagging a little, spit slicking my chin.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Just like that.”
I suck and slobber, loving the taste of him, the heat, the sheer masculinity. I moan around his dick, making him twitch. I cup his balls, thinking to make him climax like this, but he pulls me off, breathing hard.
“Not yet,” he says. “I want to be inside you when I come.”
He pushes me back on the bed, yanking my panties down. He spreads my legs, two fingers finding my pussy, which is already soaked.
“Jesus,” he says. “You’re dripping, baby. What a slutty little girl I have on my hands.”
“I know,” I mewl. “And it’s all for you, Daddy. You know that I love being fucked by your huge cock.”
He grins and strokes me, gentle at first, then faster, circling my clit until I’m arching up off the bed. He slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right to find my spot. I wail, hips bucking, toes curling as he taps me on that sensitive spot deep inside.
“What a slutty little whore,” Jack intones, his blue eyes glued to where my pussy pulses around his thick digits. “Does my little girl want to come? Is that what you want, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Daddy!” I pant. “Please, please!”
“Then come for me,” he growls in a deep voice. “Now, Eliza.”
I try to hold back, but I can’t. I come, hard, pulsing around his fingers, my body shuddering with pleasure as my breasts bounce. He shakes his fingers inside my pussy, juice splattering everywhere, but I don’t care. The sound I make is pure animal, nothing polite or restrained.
“Ooooh!” I wail, arching my back. “That feels so good, unnnh!”
He keeps going, working me through my climax, until I’m limp and boneless, panting with pleasure. But Jack doesn’t waist a second. He rears up to his knees and then lines his cock up at my little hole, rubbing the tip against my pussy.
“Ready?” he asks, voice rough.
“Oh yes,” I beg. “Please, Daddy, please. Fill me up with that big dick.”
The gleam in his eye is my answer. He slides in, slow at first, letting me feel every inch as I gasp and strain. He’s thick, and I’m tight, and the stretch is insane. I cry out, clinging to his arms.
“Ooooh,” I moan. “Unnnh!”
He laughs, kissing my cheek. “You can take it, baby. I know you can handle my size because you’re my special little cockholster, with a slutty pussy that craves Daddy’s deep fuckings. It’s the only way your kitty can feel happy. You need Daddy’s dick.”
OMG, his words are so obscene! Yet, I love it as he thrusts, deep and slow, every stroke deliberate. He’s watching my face, reading every soft moan, every gasp. He adjusts his angle, finds the spot that makes me see stars, and pounds it until I’m whimpering his name.
Then, Jack grabs my knees, folding me in half, and fucks me harder. The bed creaks, the headboard smacks the wall, but neither of us cares. It’s just bodies and sweat and raw, filthy pleasure.
I’m close again, and he knows it. He slows, pulling almost all the way out, then slams in, hard. I shriek.
“Come for me again,” he demands.
I do. I can’t help it. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure like a live wire up my spine.
I clench around him, milking his cock, and he groans, fucking me through the aftershocks.
I’m so caught up in the ecstasy that I almost don’t understand what happens next.
After all, Jack doesn’t lose a moment. He leans over and reaches into the nightstand, pulls out a dildo—not massive, but big, pink, and veiny.
He holds it up, grinning wicked. “You want to try something new?”
“What?” I gasp. “Wait, what?”
But it’s too late because Jack pulls me upwards so that I’m sitting in his lap, my pussy still clamped around his pulsing dick. Then, he reaches around and strokes my back buttonhole with a finger, chuckling as it clenches with anticipation.
“My little girl is dirty, isn’t she? But it’s okay because get ready for some deep anal sex, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”
Then, he presses the tip of the dildo against my pleats, and I gasp, more at the audacity than the sensation.
“Oh my god!” is my shocked whisper, my arms clutching his broad shoulders.
“You’re doing great baby,” he croons. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on your tight asshole that I had to have it. Now relax, baby. Push out and it’ll go in easier.”