Chapter 12 #3
“Nggghhhnn—” she moans, head snapping back, golden hair cascading, tits pushed forward, nipples flushed and hard, mouth open.
She’s a fucking vision. Like something painted by a pervert with a god complex.
Her hips twitch, little pulsing rolls, barely lifting off me, just testing, adjusting, her cunt gripping me like a velvet vise.
Every move is slow and tight and insane, like she’s trying to take all of it and still feel every goddamn inch.
I can feel her flutter around me, trying to breathe through the stretch.
She grabs my hand, the good one, laces her fingers with mine, and guides me—presses it flat and firm on her lower stomach. Right above her pussy.
And she gasps. Shakes.
“You’re hitting—fuck—right here,” she says, wide-eyed, voice full of disbelief and raw fucking awe. Like she didn’t think it was possible. Like I’m reaching places no one ever has. And under my palm I can feel it. I can feel the head of my cock, deep, every time her hips shift.
Her body clenches. She looks down at me like I’ve just rewired her fucking soul.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Crash…”
“You feel that?” I whisper, dragging my thumb in a circle over the spot. “That’s me, baby. I’m that deep in you.”
She whimpers—this strangled, wrecked sound—and moves. Just a little more. A real bounce now, slow but heavier. She stares down at me like she’s possessed.
“I don’t even know how the fuck you fit,” she pants, nails clawing into my chest now. “You’re fucking ruining me.”
I grin, teeth clenched, sweat beading on my forehead.
“Good,” I growl. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until you are.”
I give her a slow, tentative pump—just one thrust, up and deep—and fuck me, the sound that punches out of her—
“Ahhhn—”
It’s not even human. It’s this wrecked, high-pitched gasp that’s all need, pure, raw, and straight-up pornographic. Her whole body jumps, thighs clenching tighter around my hips, her cunt gripping me like she doesn’t ever want to let go.
Her arm hooks around my neck, dragging our bodies close, chest to chest, her nipples dragging across my skin, slippery with sweat. Her other hand finds my jaw, palm firm against the scruff, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth like she needs to feel everything I’m feeling.
We move together, breath hot and messy between parted lips, moaning into each other’s mouths, fucking shaking. Her hips start a rhythm, slow but demanding, and I meet every roll with a thrust of my own, hips snapping up, punching little cries out of her every time I hit that spot.
“Right there—fuck, right there,” she gasps, forehead against mine, panting like she’s on the edge already.
“Yeah?” I grit, voice low, shaky. “That spot that makes you twitch? That one that makes you—fuck, Carol—clench around me like that?”
She moans again, half-sob, half-yes, and rides me harder, bracing her hands on my chest now, grinding down, her thighs flexing with every bounce.
The bed creaks under us.
Our skin slaps together, hot and slick.
She’s soaked, the sound obscene, filthy, every movement making more of that wet, sticky music I want burned into my brain forever.
“You feel so fucking good,” I groan, digging my fingers into her waist, trying to ground myself as she takes everything I’ve got. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”
She gasps, eyes wild, mouth open—“Yes, fuck, I was, I—Crash—!”
And then her legs lock.
Her back arches.
She’s breaking apart on top of me—hips trembling, thighs shaking, nails digging into my chest like she’s holding on for dear fucking life.
Her pussy is fluttering, pulsing around me in rhythmic little waves that squeeze the breath out of my lungs. Every bounce now is sloppy, slick, soaked to hell and dripping down my balls, her arousal smeared over both of us like we’ve been doing this for hours.
And fuck, maybe we have.
Or maybe it just feels like it—because it’s raw and hot and endless, and she doesn’t stop, not even when her body goes full tremble-mode, her moans cracking like she can’t even handle the pleasure anymore.
I watch her ride it out, watch her fall to pieces in my arms and still move—still take me—like she’s chasing another wave right after the first. Her tits bounce with every slap of skin, her mouth parted, flushed and wrecked and perfect, golden hair sticking to her cheeks, sweat on her throat.
“Fuck, baby—” I rasp, barely keeping it together, sweat dripping down my back, “you’re so pretty coming on me…”
And goddamn if that doesn’t make her moan—this raw, feral sound straight from her chest that makes my cock throb inside her.
I can’t take it anymore. I need to move.
So I do.
I roll us, flipping her under me, careful with the arm, but fast enough that she gasps in surprise, mouth open, eyes wide and already dazed from her orgasm.
Her back hits the mattress and I’m on her again before she can breathe, slotting back into place like we never stopped, like we’re fucking built for this.
She’s soaked, tight, fluttering from the come she just rode out, and when I thrust back into her, it’s like heaven and hell slammed into each other and screamed.
“Ohhh fuuuck—” she cries out, legs wrapping around my waist, dragging me deeper.
My cast braces awkwardly beside her head, and my free hand grips her thigh, spreading her wider as I snap into her, hard, filthy thrusts that rattle the bed. Skin slapping, loud and fast, the room filling with the wet, obscene sound of me fucking her like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
And she loves it. Fucking thrives on it.
Her back arches, tits bouncing, her hands clawing at my back like she wants to mark me, keep me, claim me. Her heels dig into my ass, driving me deeper, harder.
“Look at me,” I growl, voice all grit and need, and her eyes snap open, locking on mine. Wide. Blown. Wrecked.
“Watch me fuck you, Carol. Watch how I own this pussy.”
She moans—full volume now—fingers clutching the sheets, head thrown back but eyes locked down, watching as I drive into her, over and over, my cock splitting her open and glistening with everything she’s already spilled for me.
“Fucking ruined,” I pant. “You’re fucking mine.”
“Fuck—” she moans, voice high and wrecked, nails biting into my back, “You look so good like this—fucking me like this—”
Her eyes are locked down—not on my face, not on the way I’m panting over her, but lower, where our bodies meet.
And Jesus Christ, so am I.
We’re both fucking mesmerized.
Every time I slam into her, we watch it—my cock disappearing into her dripping cunt, her lips stretched around me, slick and pink and perfect, swallowing me down over and over like she was made to take me.
And she is—she fucking is—because she opens up around me, takes every goddamn inch like it’s hers.
I groan, sharp and guttural, watching the way her pussy clings when I pull out just a little, her slick stringing between us, filthy, beautiful.
“Look at that,” I pant, one hand bracing her thigh open so we can both see. “Fucking look at how you’re taking me, baby. Soaking me.”
She gasps, her hips jerking up into mine like her body’s chasing every thrust now, greedy and desperate, completely fucked out and still needing more.
“I feel it,” she whines, legs shaking, “every goddamn inch—fuck, Crash—”
I snap my hips harder, pounding into her, and she cries out, hands flying to grip the headboard, trying to anchor herself while I wreck her.
“You watching?” I growl, voice shredded. “This is what you do to me. Tight little pussy taking all of me. Fucking made for me.”
She screams.