Chapter 11 #5
“No bluff, sweetheart,” I rasp, dragging my thumb over the slit, collecting that slick bead of precum and smearing it down the shaft. “This all you.”
She watches the motion, jaw tightening like she’s holding back another sound, her thighs pressing together like her body remembers what just happened and already wants more.
I step forward, cock in hand, thick and leaking, and let the head drag slow across the inside of her thigh—slick smearing hot onto her skin. She jerks at the contact, not away—toward—like her whole body’s already tuned to mine, already begging for more.
I watch her. Face flushed. Chest heaving. Pupils blown so wide there’s barely any blue left in her eyes. She’s laid out for me, glistening and wrecked, and all I want to do is slide in. Bury myself deep, slow at first—then hard enough to shake the bed.
But then—
“Uhm—” she breathes, voice small and thready, “we— we need a condom…”
I freeze.
Heart still hammering. Breath still ragged. But I stop.
Her words land like a fist to the ribs, not because I’m mad—but because fuck, yeah. She’s right.
“Yeah,” I say, voice a little rougher now, but steady. I ease back just a few inches, cock still twitching in my grip, still wet and aching. “Fuck—yeah, of course.”
She doesn’t let go of my gaze. Doesn’t shy away. But her voice’s soft again when she adds, “I’m not on birth control…”
And there it is.
Not an excuse.
Not fear.
Just facts.
And I appreciate the hell out of that.
My jaw flexes a little, nodding once, sharp and sure. “Good to know. Thanks for tellin’ me.”
I let go of my cock, reach for the drawer by the bed, yank it open and pull out the box I always keep stocked.
She watches every move like she’s not sure whether to exhale or keep holding her breath.
And yeah, I catch it—that shift in her body, like she’s waiting to see how I’ll react.
If I’ll get weird. If I’ll get pissed. Like some asshole she’s dealt with before probably did.
But I don’t say shit like “you’re killing the mood.”
I don’t roll my eyes.
I tear the foil, roll the condom down over myself with one hand, and look back at her.
She lets out this shaky breath, something like relief behind it, and her lips part again, pink and kiss-bruised, eyes soft.
I crawl back over her, bracing one hand beside her head, the other guiding the tip of my cock right to that slick, wet heat waiting between her thighs. I drag it through her folds, slow, gathering all that dripping slick, lining myself up while keeping my eyes locked on hers.
“Let me know if anything’s too much,” I murmur, jaw tight with control. “I’ll stop. I’ll listen. Every time.”
She nods.
But her hips roll up to meet me.
And her voice—wrecked and hoarse, lips parted like she’s still catching her breath—comes soft as sin:
“I wanna know how you like it.”
Fuck.
That hits me like a freight train.
I blink down at her, breath stalled in my chest, cock pulsing in my hand, the head pressed slick and ready against her soaked folds.
Because that voice—sweet and unsure, but hungry—it lands somewhere deep.
Not just in my gut, but lower. Where all the tension’s been coiled tight since the second she kissed me in the Walmart aisle.
I swear to God, I didn’t know it was possible to be adorable and sexy at the same time until I met this woman.
But she is.
Looking up at me with those big blue eyes, hair all wild against my pillow, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bruised, and she says something like that?
It makes my cock jerk against her pussy like it’s got a mind of its own.
“You wanna know how I like it?” I murmur, voice dragging out slow and heavy, thick with the weight of everything I’ve been holding back. I slide the head of my cock through her folds again—slow, teasing, letting the pressure build at her entrance without pushing in. “You sure about that, baby?”
She nods, but she bites her lip too—shy and daring at once, like she knows she’s opening a door she can’t close. And maybe she wants to see what’s on the other side.
I lean in, mouth by her ear, my hand braced tight beside her head, the other still wrapped firm around the base of my cock like I’m holding back a loaded weapon.
“How I like it…” I growl, voice hot and low, “is deep. Slow at first—so you feel every inch stretch you out. I like it messy. I like it when you can’t decide if you’re moaning or crying. I like pulling your hair.
I like watching your face when I sink in all the way and stay there—so deep you forget your own name for a second.”
She shivers under me, her thighs twitching where they’re wrapped around my hips. Her nails scrape lightly up my sides, not even meaning to—it’s just instinct.
“I like making it last,” I go on, still not pushing in yet, just rubbing the fat head of my cock right up against her, slow circles that make her hips twitch.
“Holding you down while I fuck you slow, watching your tits bounce while you beg for more. I like making you come twice before I even think about finishing.”
She’s breathing harder now, mouth open, eyes locked to mine, and I swear there’s a little tremble in her bottom lip like her body’s already reacting to it.
“But most of all,” I murmur, dragging my tip lower now, right to her entrance, nudging—not yet, just enough to make her feel what’s waiting, “I like it when you want it like I do. When you look up at me, and you’re wrecked, and raw, and open, and all you can say is—‘more.’”
I kiss her, hard, hand sliding to her jaw, tongue stealing the breath right out of her mouth.
And then I whisper, forehead against hers:
“That still what you want, sweetheart?”
And she nods again—but this time she doesn’t say anything.
She grinds up into me—slow, uncertain, but hungry—and that little movement says more than any breathy yes ever could. Her slick catches on the head of my cock as she moves, spreading it, smearing it, guiding me in just enough to feel the pressure shift, just enough for both of us to feel it start.
My jaw clenches.
“Fuck,” I growl under my breath, the tension pulling tight from the back of my neck all the way down my spine. “You’re not gonna make it easy on me, are you?”
She smiles—barely. Wrecked and flushed and beautiful, that smile still manages to look innocent and dangerous. Like she doesn’t fully understand what she’s inviting in. Like maybe she does, and wants it anyway.
I ease forward just a little, just the thick head slipping past her entrance, and she gasps, fingers flying to my shoulders, clutching tight.
And I feel it—fuck, I feel it.
Hot and tight and so damn wet I swear my vision whites out for a second.
“Baby,” I rasp, holding still even though my whole body is screaming to keep going. “You’re tight as hell.”
She nods, quick, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, thighs tightening around my hips like she doesn’t want me going anywhere—not that I could if I tried.
I drag my mouth down her jaw, kiss along her neck, biting just enough to make her jolt. My hands are firm on her hips, holding her steady as I feed in slow, inch by aching inch, dragging my cock through her soaked, gripping heat like I’m forging a brand into both of us.
Her nails bite into my back, and her breath turns into little stuttering whimpers—ah… ahh—nnhhh——and it only spurs me on.
“Relax for me,” I murmur into her throat, kissing right beneath her ear. “Let me in. Let me have it.”
She does.
Her hips roll, greedy now, pushing up to meet me, and I slide deeper—slow but deliberate—until I bottom out, buried to the hilt, balls flush against her ass, both of us gasping like we’ve been drowning and just found air.
She’s so wet I swear I can feel her heartbeat from the inside. Every twitch, every clench, every shiver sliding through her body while I stay deep, holding her there, letting her feel me fully, letting her know exactly how I like it.
“You wanted to know what I like?” I growl into her skin, one hand sliding up to her chest, cupping one perfect tit and thumbing her nipple hard enough to make her back arch. “This. Right here. Buried in you so deep you don’t know where I end and you start.”
She moans, high and broken, head tilting back, throat exposed and vulnerable.
I rock my hips, just barely, and her whole body jerks.
“Say it,” I mutter, fucking her slow and deep now, each thrust dragging my cock along her walls like I own them. “Tell me this is what you want.”
“Y-yes—fuck, Desmond—yes—”
Her voice is wrecked. Torn to pieces. And she means every word.
And that’s all I needed to lose the rest of my restraint.
I brace my hand under her ass, tilt her hips up, and start driving into her with a rhythm that’s got weight behind it. Not fast. Not rough.
Intentional.
Deep.
Every stroke hits that perfect spot, dragging a moan out of her throat, her tits bouncing under my chest, nipples still stiff and begging for my mouth again.
She’s gasping now—“oh—please—” and she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. Doesn’t need to. I’ve got her. I’m gonna give her everything.
Because she wanted to know how I like it?
She’s learning.
Right here, under me—panting, clawing, eyes rolled back as I fuck her deep and slow, just the way I like it.
The way I’ve imagined too many damn times to count.
Every thrust sinks all the way in, dragging along that soaked, tight heat like my cock’s carving a path no one else gets to take.
Her walls grip me like they don’t want to let go.
Like her body needs me to keep going, to stay deep, to stay in.
I lean in, chest brushing her tits, and fuck her right into the mattress, one arm braced beside her head, the other wrapped around her thigh, holding it up and open for me, giving me that perfect angle.
Each thrust lands hard, deep, the bed creaking beneath us, her breath catching every time my hips slap against hers—wet, slick, perfect rhythm.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
“Fff—fuck,” she whines, high-pitched and breathless, her voice breaking like it can’t keep up with the way I’m moving inside her. “Desmond—oh my—”