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And then I push in.
She cries out.
She’s tight.
So much tighter than before—used and sore, and now full of me again. My cock stretches her slowly, every inch dragging against her sensitive walls as she whimpers beneath me.
“I can feel it,” she pants. “You’re—too big—”
“No,” I growl. “You’re perfect. You were made to take me.”
I move slowly. Torturously.
She’s trembling, biting the pillow, sobbing with pleasure as I roll my hips deeper. Deeper.
Her body grips me like it’s never letting go.
“You feel that, Ivy?” I pant, fingers digging into her waist. “That’s mine. You’re mine now.”
She can’t speak. Just nods, moaning, tears slipping from the corner of her eyes—not from pain, but from being overwhelmed. Owned.
I lean over her again, wrapping an arm under her chest and pulling her up, straddling her knees as I fuck her from behind, hard and deep, each thrust sending shockwaves through her overstimulated body.
She screams into the sheets.
I bite her shoulder, her neck, her jaw.
“I want you sore tomorrow,” I whisper, voice ragged. “I want you to feel me every time you walk. Every time you sit. Every time you think.”
“Fuck, Carter—”
“I want your pussy to ache for me.”
She claws at the sheets, legs shaking violently as I slam into her, relentless.
And then she’s coming again—one last shattering orgasm, her voice breaking as her body convulses around me.
I let go too, spilling into her with a broken growl, collapsing over her back, holding her so tight she can barely breathe.
We stay like that.
Breathless.
Ruined.
Silent.
And when I finally slide out, she whimpers. I kiss her shoulder, her cheek, her lips.
She looks up at me, dazed, completely undone.
“I’m never walking again,” she whispers.
I smirk, pulling her close, wrapping her in my arms like I never plan to let her go.
“Good,” I murmur against her skin. “That way no one else can get to you.”
Because she’s mine. And now? She knows it.