It felt like he was toasting my insides without even dipping in all the way. Just the way he moved, the rhythm of it—my god. I was on my knees, hands gripping the sheets, while he pounded me from behind. My breasts clapped with every thrust, full and bouncing under me, and the sound of our bodies slapping together made my pulse race.
Then came the spanking.
Sharp. Deliberate.
Each slap made my heart jolt—burning with equal parts pain and pleasure.
I bit down on my lip hard, trying to hold in my moans. The maids were in the next room. If they heard me? I'd never live it down.
But fuck it—I couldn't hold back anymore. His thrusts drove me wild, unraveling every ounce of self-control.
And then, just when I thought I was about to lose it, he pulled out.
I spun around, breathless, eyes locked on that throbbing, slick length of his—hard, veined, begging for attention.
"What are you doing?" he asked, voice raspy. "Turn around, my love. Let me finish this."
But I had other plans.
"I have an idea," I whispered.
Before he could speak, I took him into my mouth—slow and sinful. A deep, guttural groan rumbled from his throat.
My lips couldn't even wrap around half of him—he was that thick—so I used my hand to stroke the rest while my tongue teased the tip, swirling around like a serpent tasting paradise.
I looked up at him.
His head was thrown back, eyes dazed, body trembling like he was teetering at the edge of heaven.
"Don't… don't look at me like that," he choked out, voice breaking with need.
But I didn't stop. I just sucked harder, tongue dancing, pace increasing—wet, warm, relentless.
I felt the pulse.
The twitch.
The promise of release.
He grabbed the sides of my head, gently but with purpose, guiding me in and out, in and out—until—
With a breathless groan, he pulled out just in time.
Thick ropes of heat spilled across my face, warm and messy. I licked my lips, slow and teasing, eyes still locked on his.
"Mmm," I purred. "You call this dirty? No, love… anything that comes from you? It's divine."
He looked wrecked.
And I looked sinful.
Exactly how I wanted it.
He was still hard—so achingly hard—and glistening with the remnants of our sin.
I lowered myself slowly, letting my body tease his, but instead of mounting him, I slid down further, eyes locked on his throbbing cock. It twitched as I got closer, as if it could feel the heat radiating off me. He looked down at me, breath ragged, pupils wide with need.
Without saying a word, I pressed my breasts together, trapping his length between them. His breath hitched—sharply.
"Fuck," he whispered, watching me through half-lidded eyes.
I spat lightly into the valley between my breasts, letting the slick slide down his shaft. Then I squeezed tighter, wrapping him in softness, in heat. He groaned, and the sound alone was enough to make me drip.
I began to move—slow at first. Up, then down. His cock disappeared between the swell of my breasts, only to reappear slicker, more desperate with every stroke. My nipples grazed against his skin with every bounce, hardened and aching, teased by the pressure of his body and the rawness of the moment.
I glanced up at him through my lashes, giving him a look so drenched in lust it made his hips jerk upward.
"You like that?" I purred.
His head fell back. "You have no idea."
I increased the pace, using both hands to press my breasts tighter around him, letting them hug every inch of his cock as it slid through. My skin was slick with sweat and spit and pleasure, the sound of wet friction echoing in the air like a lewd, rhythmic beat. His shaft throbbed harder between the plushness of my chest, and I knew he was close.
Every time I moved, the tip of him peeked out, angry and red, before disappearing again into the softness. I leaned forward, tongue flicking over the head every time it surfaced, making him cry out, his voice raw.
"Shit—shit—don't stop," he begged, hands gripping the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to this world.
My breasts bounced faster, slapping together around him, and I moaned just from the feel of his heat, the control I had over his body. I was driving him mad, and I loved every second of it.
He tried to warn me, but I was already watching the vein on his shaft pulse violently, already knew he was about to come undone. I pressed tighter, faster, grinding him between the soft weight of me until finally, with a guttural growl, he spilled.
Hot, thick release burst between my breasts, coating my skin, dripping down my cleavage like liquid fire. I let out a breathy laugh, licking the tip one last time as he twitched against my tongue.
His eyes met mine, wild and glassy. "You're a fucking goddess."
I smirked, running a finger through the mess on my chest, lifting it to my lips. "Worship me then."
And oh, he would.
Before I could even wipe the rest of him off my chest, he grabbed me by the waist, his strength effortless and commanding. I gasped as my feet left the ground, and in a blink, he had me pinned against the wall—his body pressing into mine like he was made to fit there.
His eyes were fire. "You drive me fucking insane," he growled, and before I could even react, he plunged into me—one hard, brutal stroke that stole the breath from my lungs.
"Ah—fuck!" I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.
He didn't stop.
He didn't even give me time to adjust. He thrust into me again, deeper, harder, like he had something to prove, like he needed to mark me from the inside out. My back hit the wall with every stroke, the rhythm unforgiving, merciless, and yet every collision sparked more heat between my thighs.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he kept pounding into me—his hands gripping under my thighs, keeping me spread, open, owned. The wall scraped my back slightly, but I didn't care. Not when he was filling me this deep, not when his hips were slamming into mine like a storm.
"You want to tease me?" he hissed against my neck, biting down just enough to leave a mark. "Then take all of me."
And I did. I took every goddamn inch. I screamed his name, moaned into his mouth as he kissed me hungrily between thrusts, his cock hitting places I didn't know existed. His pace was relentless, ruthless, but somehow still so good it made my toes curl and my walls clench around him.
Every time he drove into me, it felt like I was being split in the most delicious way. I was soaked, shaking, trembling between the pain and the pleasure until the two blurred into one glorious, overwhelming haze.
"I can feel you," he growled. "So tight. So wet. This is mine."
"Y-yes," I breathed, head falling back as I let go, surrendering to him fully. "Yours."
His eyes darkened even more, and he slammed into me harder, chasing his own high—dragging mine out until I was on the edge, dangling.
"Come for me," he commanded, and I shattered.
My body spasmed around him, crying out as the orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. He groaned deeply, losing control, and with a final, desperate thrust, he emptied himself inside me, hot and pulsing and deep.
We stayed there for a moment, pressed together against the wall, panting like we'd just survived a war. And maybe we had.
A war of pleasure. And we both fucking won.