Page 9

Story: Pucking His Enemy

I smack her once, hard.

She gasps and pushes back.

“You want it again?”

Her voice shakes, wrecked and wanting. “Yes… please.”

I don’t wait.

I slide back in—stretching her, still making her gasp like it’s the first time.

She’s so wet, so swollen from the last round, and still, she takes it all like a good girl.

“You feel that?”

I growl into her neck, pinning her from behind.

“You feel how quick I got hard for you?”

She moans, helpless. “Yes…I feel it.”

“You’ll like this cock, baby? Hard, deep, fucking yours.”

I grip her ass, drag her flush against me, and thrust so deep I swear I see stars.

“You feel how you squeeze me?”

I growl, panting into her neck.

“That needy little pussy’s fucking made for me.”

She whimpers, clutching at the sheets like she’s drowning in it.

“Don’t stop. Please—God—don’t stop.”

“I’m not fucking stopping till you can’t speak. Till you forget your name and the only word left is mine.”

I drive into her like it’s a promise.

Like I’ll never be soft again as long as she’s in my bed— under me, wrapped around me, moaning like this.

Every thrust is deeper. Rougher.

Her body sings for it— and I’m obsessed with every sound she makes.

When her moans break again, her pussy pulsing tight, ruined— dragging me in deeper like she’s trying to keep me there,

I fucking lose it.

Grunting, teeth in the back of her neck, hips jerking as I spill for the second time— this time harder. Hotter. More primal.

We collapse together and I maneuver on top— sweat-slicked skin sliding as we catch our breath.

I press my forehead to hers, lips brushing, both of us breathing like we’ve survived a war.

For a while, we just lie there.

No names, no questions.