THE DIVORCE PAPERS III

PART THREE: THE MORNING AFTER

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Kavanagh estate. I stirred in the massive bed, my body deliciously sore in all the right places, my thighs aching, pussy still tender and throbbing from the relentless pounding Kenzo had given me through the night. I slipped on his oversized white dress shirt, the hem barely skimming the tops of my thighs, the fabric carrying his clean, masculine scent mixed with the faint musk of sex. No panties. I liked the way the cool air teased my swollen folds as I moved.

I padded downstairs quietly, bare feet silent on the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. Kenzo was in the master bathroom, the distant sound of the shower running faintly audible.

Marcus was already in the kitchen, his back turned to me. He stood at the counter in nothing but gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, one hand massaging the stiff muscles of his neck while he downed a glass of honey water. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

I paused in the doorway, a wicked little smile tugging at my lips. I knew exactly why he was exhausted.

Marcus must have sensed my presence. Without turning around, he muttered bitterly, “Father, I heard you and your new girl going at it all night. I didn’t get any sleep. She was screaming your name like a fucking pornstar. I know this is my cue to stop coming here so often. I’ll be leaving next week. Your girl was extremely loud—I almost barged in to demand you take it easy on her.”

He turned around then, glass still in hand, and froze.

The cup of coffee he’d just poured for himself slipped from his fingers and smashed on the tiled floor, hot liquid and shards exploding everywhere. His eyes widened in pure shock as he took in me, wearing only his father’s shirt, my dark auburn hair tousled from sleep and sex, legs bare, the faint marks of passion still visible on my neck and thighs.

I didn’t flinch. I pretended I had no idea who he was, blinking innocently as I stepped carefully around the broken glass.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for disturbing your sleep,” I said sweetly, my voice still husky from hours of moaning. “Your father is… insatiable. We went twenty-five rounds last night. My poor pussy is still throbbing so badly I can barely walk properly.”

I limped toward him, each step making the shirt ride up just enough to flash the smooth, swollen lips of my cunt. Marcus’s gaze dropped involuntarily, his face draining of color.

“God, he’s extremely big,” I continued, voice dropping into a sultry purr as I swept right past him, my hip brushing his. “That massive dick slammed into me all night long. He drove me absolutely crazy, stretching me so wide, hitting so deep I thought I’d pass out from coming so hard. I lost count of how many times he filled me up.”

I reached the coffee maker as if nothing had happened, pouring myself a fresh cup with steady hands while Marcus stood rooted to the spot, mouth slightly open, completely frozen.

Footsteps approached from the hallway. Kenzo walked in, freshly showered, wearing only black lounge pants that hung low on his powerful hips. He looked incredibly attractive—his thick blonde hair still damp and perfectly tousled, his chiseled jawline and striking steel-gray eyes commanding the room, broad, muscular chest glistening with a few remaining drops of water, every defined muscle flexing as he moved. He greeted his son casually, as if this were any normal morning.

“Morning, Marcus.” Then his intense steel-gray eyes landed on me, softening with clear hunger. He stepped close and pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek, his strong hand sliding possessively around my waist. “Morning, beautiful.”

We leaned in, whispering to each other like lovers who’d been together for months instead of one wild night.

“Did you fuck me while I was asleep?” I murmured, nipping at his jaw. “I woke up feeling you inside me… sliding in and out. My pussy was still dripping when I got up.”

Kenzo chuckled lowly, his deep, velvety voice intimate. “Guilty. I only slid in and slid out a few times. You were so warm and wet, clenching around me even in your sleep. Couldn’t resist that perfect cunt.”

He pulled back slightly and introduced me properly, his arm still around me. “Marcus, this is Daphne—my new girl.”

I nudged Kenzo playfully in the ribs, my eyes sparkling with mischief. “All we had was sex, Kenzo. I don’t recall accepting to be your girlfriend.”

Kenzo’s grin turned feral, making his devastatingly handsome face even more seductive. He cupped my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Well, I’m asking now. Be my girlfriend. Because I can’t imagine pounding any other cunt the way I want to pound yours—every single day.”

I nodded, biting my lip, and he kissed me hard, teeth tugging at my bottom lip as he moaned into my mouth. My hand slid down his bare, muscular chest and straight into his lounge pants, wrapping around his thick, heavy cock that was already swelling rapidly in my grip.

Kenzo groaned, lifting me effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. The marble was cool against my bare ass as he stepped between my spread thighs, grinding forward. Right there, in full view of his stunned son, he dry-humped me with raw, explicit need.

His thick erection, still trapped in the thin fabric of his pants, pressed hard against my exposed, dripping pussy. He rolled his hips in deep circles, dragging the rigid length of his cock up and down my slick folds. The head of his dick nudged my swollen clit with every upward grind, the fabric growing dark and wet from my juices as he humped me like an animal in heat. I moaned loudly, legs wrapping around his waist, my heels digging into his lower back as I rocked back against him. The wet sounds of my soaked cunt sliding along his clothed shaft filled the kitchen—schlick, schlick—my pussy lips parting around the thick ridge, clit throbbing as he rubbed it relentlessly. He thrust harder, the counter creaking under us, his heavy balls pressing against my ass with each powerful roll of his hips. Precum leaked through his pants, mixing with my cream as he dry-fucked me with long, grinding strokes that made my tits bounce inside his shirt.

“Fuck, this pussy feels so good even through the fabric,” he growled against my mouth, biting my lip again.

I gasped, nails raking down his strong back. “Move in with me,” he demanded between kisses.

I nodded breathlessly, still grinding on his cock. “I have divorce papers to sign first… then I’ll move in next week.”

“Good girl. Now ride me right here.”

Without hesitation, I pushed his lounge pants down just enough to free his massive, veined cock. It was thick, heavy, and rock-hard, the head already glistening with precum. I gripped the base, guiding the blunt tip to my dripping entrance. With a slow, deliberate sink of my hips, I impaled myself on him right there on the kitchen counter.

A long, broken moan tore from my throat as his girth stretched my swollen pussy wide open. Inch after thick inch disappeared inside me, my slick walls fluttering and clenching greedily around every ridge and vein. I bottomed out with a wet slap, his heavy balls pressed tight against my ass, the head of his cock kissing my cervix deep inside.

Then I started riding him—hard, filthy, and shameless.

My hips rolled in deep, sinful circles, grinding my clit against his pubic bone while my pussy sucked and milked his cock with every rise and fall. I bounced faster, the wet squelching of my drenched cunt echoing loudly—plap-plap-plap—as my ass cheeks clapped against his thighs. My tits bounced wildly inside the loose shirt, nipples hard and visible. Juices ran down his shaft in shiny rivulets, coating his balls and dripping onto the counter. I threw my head back, moaning Kenzo’s name like a prayer, my pussy clenching rhythmically around his thickness as I fucked myself senseless on his cock.

Kenzo gripped my ass with both hands, spreading my cheeks wider, helping me slam down harder. “That’s it—ride that dick, baby. Show me how much you love this cunt being mine.”

Marcus stood there, completely dumbfounded, eyes glued to the scene of his ex-wife bouncing on his father’s massive cock in the middle of the kitchen, my moans filling the air, pussy creaming visibly around the thick shaft.

When he finally found the strength to move, he backed away slowly, face pale, and slipped out the side door without a word.

I barely noticed, too lost in the pleasure. I leaned into Kenzo’s ear, still riding him with sloppy, desperate strokes. “We should go to the room and continue… ignoring him.”

Kenzo thrust up hard to meet me, burying himself as he growled against my neck, “This pussy is mine now. I’m going to cherish it—fuck it, own it—for the rest of my life.”

And with that promise, he carried me upstairs, still impaled on his cock, ready for round twenty-six.