[23]NEEDY
She tried.
Hips rocking shyly, awkwardly,
barely any pressure,
face burning with embarrassment.
Abhiraj’s patience snapped in the best way.
He gripped her hips with both hands,
lifted her slightly,
then brought her down hard on his thigh.
Pat.
Pat.
Pat.
Rough, deliberate smacks of her soaked pussy against the hard muscle of his thigh,
each impact sending a wet sound through the room,
her slick coating his black lowers in seconds.
“Like this, biwi,” he growled, voice thick.
“Don’t be shy. Rub that pretty little pussy properly.”
His mouth latched onto one nipple,
sucking hard,
wild,
teeth grazing,
tongue flicking,
switching to the other breast,
leaving both nipples swollen and shining.
Two thick fingers slipped between her folds,
parted them wide,
exposing her clit completely to the rough drag of his thigh.
She lost it.
Hips jerking,
moans turning into broken sobs,
body trembling violently.
He didn’t stop.
Kept the rhythm brutal,
mouth devouring her breasts,
fingers holding her open,
thigh flexing under her with every thrust.
“Come on my thigh, baby,” he rasped against her wet nipple.
“Show me how needy you really are.”
She shattered.
A raw, desperate cry tore from her throat,
back arching,
pussy clenching hard,
fresh flood of wetness soaking his pants,
dripping down his thigh in warm streaks.
She collapsed forward,
forehead against his shoulder,
breathing hard,
shaking,
completely spent.
He held her tight,
one hand stroking her back,
the other still cupping her pulsing, soaked heat.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with pride and hunger.
“now I am going to full full my needs.”
His lowers were ruined,
dark patch spreading,
and he couldn’t be more satisfied.
He kissed her again,
slow at first,
then deep,
filthy,
tongue stroking hers until she melted against him.
His big hands slid down,
gripped her thick thighs,
kneading the soft, trembling flesh,
thumbs digging in,
massaging in slow, possessive circles.
She shivered hard,
fresh heat pooling between her legs,
already wet again,
soaked and aching for him.
Her face was buried in his shoulder,
moans muffled against his skin,
lips brushing his neck,
then his collarbone,
hot, open-mouthed breaths.
Without warning,
his middle finger slid through her slick folds,
found her entrance,
and pushed in,
one smooth, deep thrust.
Amisha cried out,
sharp, shocked,
teeth sinking instinctively into the muscle of his shoulder.
He groaned,
low and rough,
hips jerking at the sting of her bite.
“Suck there,”
he rasped, voice thick with pleasure-pain.
“Mark me, baby. Abhi.”
She hesitated,
lips trembling against his skin.
He didn’t wait.
Thumb found her clit,
pinched hard.
She gasped,
then bit down again,
harder this time,
sucking the spot between her teeth,
leaving a perfect red ring on his golden skin.
Another groan rumbled from his chest.
“Good fucking girl.”
His finger curled inside her,
pumping slowly,
stretching her,
while his thumb kept tormenting her clit.
She was shaking,
moaning into his shoulder,
lips swollen against his skin,
completely lost in him again.
And he was only getting started.
Her teeth were still grazing the fresh bite on his shoulder,
sucking softly,
leaving a dark, possessive mark.
He growled in approval,
hips rolling up once,
letting her feel how hard he already was again.
His middle finger kept moving inside her,
slow, deep strokes,
curling just right,
making her walls flutter and clench.
She was dripping,
soaking his hand,
her thighs trembling over his.
“Ready for more?”
he murmured against her temple, voice rough velvet.
Before she could answer,
a second finger joined the first,
thick ring finger pushing in alongside,
stretching her tight, swollen entrance.
Amisha’s head snapped back,
a sharp, broken cry spilling out,
back arching hard.
“Abhiraj—!”
He swallowed the cry with a fierce kiss,
tongue plunging deep,
while his two fingers sank all the way in,
knuckles brushing her folds.
She bit his lower lip on instinct,
hard,
then soothed it with her tongue,
whimpering into his mouth.
He groaned,
pumped his fingers slowly,
scissoring gently,
opening her up,
feeling her clench and release around the intrusion.
“Feel that?” he rasped against her lips.
“Two fingers and you’re already crying.
Ab dekhna…how my whole cock goes in your little pussy”
She sobbed,
half pleasure, half overwhelmed,
nails digging into his shoulders,
hips rocking on their own now,
chasing the stretch, the burn, the fullness.
He curled both fingers,
hit that spot inside her again,
and watched her eyes roll back,
another helpless moan muffled against his neck as she bit down once more,
marking him harder,
exactly how he wanted.
“Good girl,” he praised, voice dark and filthy.
“Bite me all you want…
But this pussy is mine,
i will ruin it fully…
One by one…
phir apna poora haq lene aunga.”
His fingers thrust deeper,
faster,
stretching her open for what was coming next.
Two thick fingers were already buried deep,
stretching her,
curling,
pumping.
He knew she was close to her limit;
her walls kept fluttering in tiny, panicked spasms,
squeezing him like she wanted to push him out and pull him deeper all at once.
But he also knew his own size.
He remembered how she had cried last night,
how tight she had been,
how carefully he’d had to hold back.
Tonight he refused to let her hurt tomorrow.
So he added a third.
Slowly,
relentlessly,
he pressed his ring finger alongside the first two,
twisting gently,
watching her face the entire time.
Amisha’s breath hitched,
then shattered into a high, broken cry.
“Abhiraj—nahi—bahut zyada hai—!”
Her whole body jerked,
nails raking down his back,
mouth latching onto his throat like it was the only thing keeping her sane.
She bit down hard just above his collarbone,
then licked the sting away,
sucked the spot until it bruised dark,
moved to his Adam’s apple (that sharp, masculine ridge she secretly loved),
teeth grazing,
tongue tracing the jump of it when he swallowed.
Up to his jaw,
nipping the hard line,
sucking the stubbled skin,
leaving tiny, wet marks all over him like a frantic kitten claiming territory.
He groaned,
deep, guttural,
hips bucking involuntarily at the feel of her desperate little mouth.
“ bite karo jitna marzi,”
he rasped, voice raw
“but I have to open you.to make space for me…
kal subah dard nahi hona chahiye tumhe.”
He scissored all three fingers now,
slow,
steady,
stretching her open inch by inch,
feeling the resistance give way,
her slick coating his knuckles,
dripping onto his wrist.
She sobbed against his jaw,
then licked the spot in apology,
bit down again when another twist of his fingers sent sparks up her spine.
Her thighs shook violently over his,
toes curling,
entire body trembling between pain and unbearable pleasure.
He kept going,
patient,
relentless,
until her cries turned into breathless, needy whimpers,
until her hips started rocking on their own,
chasing the stretch instead of running from it.
Only then did he curl all three fingers,
pressed hard against that spot inside her,
and whispered against her bitten, swollen lips:
The third finger curled hard,
hit that spot again,
and she broke.
A long, shattered cry vibrated against his throat,
her entire body seized,
pussy clamping down on his fingers like a vice,
fresh flood of slick coating his hand,
dripping down his wrist.
She sagged,
utterly spent,
forehead pressed to his neck,
hot little breaths panting against his skin,
tongue still weakly licking the bite marks she’d left on his throat.
He eased his fingers out slowly,
three of them now glistening and pruned from how long they’d been inside her,
how much she’d soaked them.
Amisha blinked down,
dazed,
and realised he had already freed himself while she was coming apart.
His cock stood thick and angry against his stomach,
bigger than his three fingers combined,
a bead of pre-cum rolling down the length.
He didn’t give her time to panic.
One arm locked around her waist,
the other guiding her hips,
he lifted her trembling body,
positioned her right above him,
and pulled her down.
Slow.
Relentless.
The blunt head pushed in,
stretched her freshly opened entrance,
and she whimpered,
exhausted,
nails digging into his shoulders.
“Shh… I’ve got you,”
he murmured, voice rough but steady.
Then he took over completely.
Because she was too tired,
too boneless,
he did all the work.
Strong hands on her hips,
he lifted her up,
then brought her down hard,
again,
again,
controlling every inch,
every thrust.
Up…
Down…
Up…
Down…
Slow at first,
letting her feel every thick inch sliding in and out,
then faster,
deeper,
the wet slap of her soaked pussy against his thighs filling the room.
Her head fell back,
mouth open in silent cries,
breasts bouncing with every brutal drop,
his cock dragging against every sensitive spot he’d just opened with his fingers.
He watched her face,
watched her eyes roll back,
watched her lips part on his name,
and growled,
“Ride me, baby… just like this…good girl.”
She couldn’t do anything but take it,
let him use her body,
let him bounce her on his cock like she weighed nothing,
until her walls fluttered again,
another climax building from pure exhaustion and overstimulation.
He felt it coming,
felt her tighten impossibly,
and slammed her down one final time,
grinding deep,
spilling hot and thick inside her as she came apart a second time,
sobbing his name into his shoulder,
body shaking,
completely, perfectly ruined.
And still he held her,
impaled and full,
kissing the tears from her temples,
whispering against sweat-damp skin:
“Ab theek se yaad rahega…
ki tum meri ho.”
He didn’t stop.
Round after round,
he lifted her limp, trembling body,
bounced her on his cock like she was weightless,
slow and deep,
then hard and punishing,
then slow again,
never giving her a real break.
Every time she came,
walls fluttering,
sobbing his name into his neck,
he followed right after,
growling,
hips slamming up,
spilling thick and hot inside her,
filling her so full she could feel it with every breath.
Second round.
Third.
Fourth.
She lost count somewhere after the fifth,
only able to cling to his shoulders,
moan brokenly,
tears and drool on his skin,
body jerking with every fresh orgasm he forced out of her.
Her belly felt swollen,
warm and heavy with him,
his release and hers mixing,
leaking out around his cock with every thrust,
soaking his thighs,
the sheets,
everything.
He watched her eyes glaze,
watched her head loll against his shoulder,
watched her lips part on tiny, unconscious whimpers,
until finally,
on what might have been the seventh or eighth round,
she went completely limp,
half-unconscious,
slipping into exhausted sleep even while he was still buried deep inside her.
Only then did he stop.
Chest heaving,
he eased out slowly,
a thick rush of their combined release following,
pink-tinged,
dripping from her swollen, ruined pussy onto the ruined sheets.
He carried her to the bathroom,
cleaned her gently with warm water and a soft cloth,
every mark,
every trace of him,
then himself.
Back in the bedroom he dressed her like a doll again,
fresh pale-pink cotton panties,
loose white kurti and soft gagra,
no bra this time (too sore),
tucked her hair behind her ears.
He pulled on fresh black lowers and a t-shirt,
slid into bed,
pulled her into his arms,
her back to his chest,
one possessive hand splayed over her warm, slightly rounded lower belly where he’d left so much of himself.
She didn’t stir once.
He pressed a final kiss to the bite mark behind her ear,
voice barely a breath in the quiet room:
“Ab pakka yaad rahega…
kitni baar tum meri ho chuki ho.”
Then he closed his eyes,
held her tight,
and let sleep take them both.