Chapter 12 #2
“Yes—please—” I gasped, pushing back against him.
That was all the permission he needed.
He slammed into me in one brutal thrust, his cock stretching me wide, his ridges dragging against my walls. The orgasm hit me instantly—a white-hot rush of pleasure that made my back arch, my nails scrape against the counter as I screamed, “God, yes!”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.
His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled back and drove into me again, harder this time.
The kitchen island creaked under the force, my body rocking with each thrust. His cock was everywhere—filling me, stretching me, those damn ridges hitting that spot over and over as my vision blurred.
“Fuck, you’re tight—” His voice was a snarl, feral and rough. “So fucking perfect, Kesha. Taking my cock like this—gods below—”
I couldn’t even form words. My body was a live wire, my orgasm stretching on and on, my inner muscles clenching around him, milking him. Every thrust sent another wave of pleasure crashing through me, my toes curling, my breath coming in broken gasps.
He was relentless, and my pleasure didn’t abate.
His hips snapped forward, his balls slapping against me, the sound wet and obscene. His grunts were raw, animalistic, his breath hot against my shoulder as he bent over me, his chest pressing against my back.
“You feel so good,” he growled, his voice rough with awe. “So fucking wet for me. Your pussy’s begging for my cum, isn’t it?”
“Yes!” I sobbed, my body trembling. “Please—please—”
His hand slid around my hip, his fingers finding my clit. The moment he touched me, I screamed, my body convulsing. He didn’t let up, rubbing tight, fast circles as he fucked me through it, his cock swelling inside me.
I didn’t think my last orgasm had really ended, had it? But another one was cued up, thanks to his demands.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Come on my cock, dkaar. Milk me—fuck—”
His rhythm faltered, his thrusts turning erratic. I could feel him getting closer, his cock twitching, his grip on my hips almost bruising. I pushed back against him, taking him deeper, my body aching for his release.
Then—
He roared, the sound raw and primal, his cock jerking as he came. The first pulse of his cum was scorching, filling me in thick, hot spurts. I could feel it—oh my god, I could feel it—spreading inside me, leaking out around his cock, dripping down my thighs.
And the sheer overwhelm of it broke me. I came again, my own cry hoarse as my inner muscles clenched around his ridges, now buried deep inside me.
The scent of his cum—spicy and warm, the cinnamon mixing with my own arousal—filled the air, and I moaned, my body spasming around him, drawing out every last drop.
His hands slid up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me up against him, his cock still buried deep. His breath was ragged in my ear, his chest heaving. “Fuck, Kesha—”
I could feel his cum dripping out of me, warm and thick, trickling down my thighs. His cock twitched inside me, his ridges still pressing against my oversensitive walls. I whimpered, my body trembling, my skin flushed and damp with sweat.
He dropped a kiss on my shoulder, then my neck. “You’re amazing,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with admiration. “So fucking strong. Taking all of me like that—gods—”
I melted against him, my body boneless, my mind blissfully empty.
His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, his cock still twitching inside me.
The counter dug into my hips, but I didn’t care.
I could stay like this forever—filled with him, surrounded by him, his cum leaking out of me, marking me.
Claiming me.
His hands slid down, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. “You okay?” His voice was soft now, tender.
I nodded, a lazy smile spreading across my face. “More than okay.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
A shiver ran through me, my body already responding to the promise in his words. His cock was still hard inside me, his cum dripping out around him. I rocked my hips experimentally, gasping as his ridges dragged against my sensitive walls.
His grip tightened, his breath hitching. “Dammit, wife—”
I grinned, turning my head to press a kiss to his jaw. “What? You didn’t think I’d want more?”
His growl was dark, possessive. “Oh, I know you want more.” His hands slid down to my hips, his fingers digging in. “And I’m going to give it to you. Right after I carry you to the bed and fuck you properly.”
My breath caught, my body already throbbing with anticipation. “Promises, promises.”
He pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with our combined arousal, his cum dripping from me.
Before I could even protest the loss—or ask about the breakfast now soaking into the floor—he was scooping me up, cradling me against his chest. “Oh, dkaar,” he murmured, his voice a dark vow. “I always keep my promises.”
And as he carried me toward the bedroom, his cock already hard again, I knew this was going to be the best fucking weekend ever.