Feel That?

JaneVera’s POV

My hips rolled on their own, grinding helplessly, chasing the pressure, the ache, the ownership.

“You,” I breathed, voice cracking. “Only you.”

His smirk was slow and victorious.

“That’s my jealous little flame.”

“My good girl,” he murmured, voice low and rough, the words rumbling against my skin like distant thunder.

His calloused hands clamped tighter around my waist, fingers digging bruises into my flesh as he dragged me forward. My slick, swollen pussy lips parted shamelessly around the rigid, throbbing length of his cock, still cruelly trapped beneath the soaked fabric of his boxers. I couldn’t help myself, I rolled my hips harder, desperately, coating him in thick layers of my arousal, the wet heat of my cunt smearing over that merciless bulge, marking him just as thoroughly as he’d marked me.

My hair spilled across his face in a dark, wild curtain as I leaned down to him and our foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in sharp, hungry pants. One rough palm slid lower, gliding over the trembling curve of my thigh. He hooked my leg higher, spreading me obscenely wide, angling my dripping core so perfectly that the next grind mashed my throbbing clit directly against the thick, veined ridge of his shaft. A broken, filthy moan tore out of me, raw and animal, echoing between us.

His mouth finally brushed mine, just a ghost of a kiss, lips barely grazing, tormenting me. I chased it like a starving thing, but he pulled back, breath hot and ragged against my parted lips.

“Beg for it,” he whispered, his voice pure sin. “Beg me to let you have this cock, little flame. Tell me how bad you need to be fucked raw.”

That same hand kept traveling, sliding up the curve of my blazing ass, fingers sinking possessively into soft, punished flesh. He gripped one cheek hard, then the other, spreading them apart with cruel force. The motion dragged my pussy open too, cool air kissed my soaked, sensitive folds, and I clenched emptily, aching so fiercely it hurt as my already hardened nipples did. My hips jerked forward on instinct, grinding my open, throbbing cunt harder against his trapped cock.

“…say you want me inside you,” he finished, voice shredded with hunger.

The words shattered my breathing into ragged, desperate gasps. Heat flooded every inch of me, molten and unbearable.

I didn’t just want him, I was starving for him, humiliated by how violently my body begged. My eyes fluttered shut, forehead still pressed to his, and the confession spilled out in a broken, trembling whisper:

“I want you inside me, Caesar… Please… I need your cock so bad it hurts. I need you to fuck me raw, ruin me… Please, I’m begging you, fill me up, breed me, make me yours. I can’t take it anymore.”

His breath caught a sharp, involuntary hitch that betrayed exactly how deep those words cut.

“Then let me make it hurt in all the ways you like,” he growled, voice raw, animal, stripped down to nothing but possession.

His hand plunged between my thighs, rough and impatient. He yanked his waistband down just enough, and his cock sprang free, huge, veined, thick as my wrist, angry-red, and pulsing with need. The swollen head was already slick with pre-cum and the mess I’d left on him, the slight upward curve making it slap heavy against his abs before it dropped, throbbing, the fat crown kissing my soaked entrance like it belonged there.

He fisted the base and dragged that leaking tip through my folds once, slow and filthy, coating himself in my juices. Then again, harder, parting my swollen lips, nudging my hole until my thighs shook and another helpless gush of slick spilled over him. His fingers sank into the bruised, burning flesh of my ass, lifting me clean off the couch. My knees left the cushions as I rose onto them instinctively, thighs trembling, spreading wider as he held me suspended, cunt hovering, fluttering, dripping above his cock.

He kept one iron grip on my ass, fingers sinking so deep into the bruised flesh I knew I’d wear his marks for days. The other hand guided his cock, that glossy, swollen head pressing hard against my entrance, stretching my soaked ring just enough to make me burn and ache and beg with every heartbeat.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice shredded, raw, hanging on by a thread. His blue eyes had gone pitch-black, wild, and feral, the blunt head of his cock nudging deeper against my entrance, and threatening to split me open. “Say the word and I pull back. Otherwise I’m taking this cunt right now.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat locked. All I could do was claw bloody crescents into his shoulders and sink lower, trying to force him inside me myself.

“Fuck me, Caesar.” I finally sobbed, the plea cracking out of me like glass. “Please, I need you inside me.”

His blue eyes flared, dark and feral.

In one savage motion he yanked me down while driving his hips up, impaling me with a single, brutal thrust that punched the air from my lungs.

The swollen, glistening head of his cock forced past my entrance with a searing, wet breach, that thick crown stretching me impossibly wide as it shoved past my tight, resisting ring of muscle. I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat as the burn detonated through me. My pussy fluttered and spasmed wildly around the invasion, walls burning, stretching, trying desperately to swallow him whole while slick gushed around the intrusion in frantic, helpless pulses.

He didn’t pause, didn't offer a single breath of mercy, just kept pushing, slow, relentless, merciless, feeding inch after thick, veined inch into my clenching, dripping heat. The upward curve dragged deliciously over every sensitive ridge inside me, lighting my nerves on fire, sparks detonating behind my eyes until hot tears spilled down my cheeks and my back bowed violently.

He didn’t stop until his hips slammed flush against mine, heavy balls pressed tight to my ass, that curved head buried so impossibly deep I swear I felt him in my throat. I was stuffed beyond reason, split open, impaled, utterly owned, every inch of my cunt molded around him like I’d been carved to take his cock and only his cock.

My walls convulsed in helpless, wet pulses, already coming just from being filled, slick flooding out around his base in thick, creamy waves, running down his balls, soaking us both.

Ceasar held me there, suspended in his iron grip, trembling, impaled, every throbbing, pulsing inch of his cock stretching me to my absolute, burning limit. My slick walls fluttered helplessly around him, clenching, trying to adjust to the impossible fullness, but there was only him, filling me, owning me, branding me from the inside out.

Then his hands moved to my breasts, right in front of his hungry, devouring gaze. He grasped them like they’d been created solely for his palms, his big, rough hands closed around them from underneath, fingers splaying wide, sinking deep into the heavy, overflowing flesh. My tits were so full they spilled between his spread fingers, soft weight bulging against his knuckles as he lifted and squeezed hard, thumbs digging into the tender undersides. The pressure forced my swollen nipples forward, trapping them, throbbing between his thumbs and forefingers like ripe, aching berries begging to be devoured.

“Feel that?” He snarled, voice shredded with raw possession, blue eyes locked on mine as he kneaded me roughly, thumbs rolling my nipples in brutal, punishing circles that shot fire straight to my clit. “Feel my hands on these perfect fucking tits?”