We Shouldn't Be Doing This...

~Marcellus

I stepped closer, unable to stop myself. The steam from the shower still clung to my skin, but it was her heat that burned now.

Naked, dripping, she stood there like something carved from temptation, curves soft and full, skin glowing from her own bath, waist beads glinting like tiny secrets.

Gosh. As much as I told myself to walk away, to remember the ring I was supposed to give her mother, to remember the line I’d already crossed and crossed again… I couldn’t let go.

She was too sweet. Too alive. Too everything I’d spent years pretending I didn’t need.

My eyes traced her, breasts heavy and perfect, nipples already tight from the cool air or from the way I was looking at her, stomach flat then flaring into hips that begged to be gripped, the dark triangle between her thighs calling me like sin itself.

Before I could speak, she moved.

Her hands shot out, fingers hooking the knot of my towel. One sharp tug and it fell away, pooling at my feet. I was already hard, had been since the second I saw her standing there bare.

She didn’t hesitate.

She jumped on me.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, arms around my neck, her body slamming into mine. I caught her under the thighs, palms digging into soft flesh, lifting her easily.

Her breasts pressed against my chest, nipples dragging over my skin as she rocked once, instinctive.

I groaned into her neck.

Then I took her mouth, hard, open, teeth clashing. She tasted like mint and need. I sucked her lower lip, bit down until she gasped, then soothed it with my tongue.

My mouth moved lower, down her throat, sucking hard enough to mark, licking the salt from her skin until I found blood from a small nick of my teeth.

She groaned in pain and pleasure, fingers twisting in my wet hair, pulling me closer.

I shifted her higher, mouth finding her breast. I latched on, sucking deep, tongue swirling around the nipple before biting down, hard enough to make her arch and cry out.

She jerked in my arms, thighs squeezing my waist, grinding against my cock trapped between us.

I switched to the other breast, the same treatment, suck, bite, pull until both were swollen, red, glistening with my spit.

Her head fell back, throat exposed, moans spilling out raw and broken.

I carried her to the bed, never breaking contact, never letting her go.

I lifted her like she weighed nothing, arms hooked under her thighs, her body light and trembling against me.

One swift motion and I threw her onto the bed. The mattress dipped, sheets rumpling around her. She landed on her back with a soft gasp, legs parted, eyes wide and dark with want.

I climbed over her, knees sinking into the mattress, hands gripping her ankles.

I pulled her legs up high, draping them over my shoulders, opening her completely. Her waist beads shifted, cool against my skin. She was glistening, swollen from earlier, pink and ready.

“Eat me,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Please.”

I didn’t answer with words.

I lowered my head, mouth covering her in one slow, deliberate lick, flat tongue dragging from bottom to top, tasting her sweetness mixed with the faint salt of her skin.

She arched off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from her throat.

I didn’t tease. I devoured her.

My lips sealed around her clit, sucking hard while my tongue flicked fast, relentlessly. Two fingers slid inside her, deep, curling then a third, stretching her wide.

I fucked her with them, hard and fast, matching the rhythm of my mouth. In and out, curling against that spot that made her hips buck wildly.

Her walls clenched around my fingers, wet and hot, pulling me deeper.

She jerked, thighs quivering around my ears, hands fisting the sheets. “Marcellus, fuck…”

I sucked harder, fingers pumping faster, thumb pressing her clit when my tongue lifted for a second.

She came suddenly, violent, shuddering, body convulsing, release flooding my mouth, my hand.

I kept going, licking through it, drawing out every tremor until she was whimpering, oversensitive, pushing weakly at my head.

I rose slowly, lips wet, chin slick. Her legs still on my shoulders, chest heaving.

I leaned down, mouth to her ear, voice low and rough. “I want it from the back.”

Her breath hitched. I pulled her legs down, flipped her over in one smooth roll.

She landed on her stomach, ass up instinctively. I gripped her hips, pulled her back toward me, knees spreading her wider.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“Then take it,” she whispered.

I positioned myself, thick head nudging her entrance.

One hard thrust, deep, no warning and I buried myself to the hilt.

She cried out, hands fisting the pillow, body rocking forward with the force.

I didn’t give her time to adjust.

I fucked her from behind, fast, deep, relentless hands locked on her waist beads, using them like reins to pull her back onto me with every stroke.

The slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with her moans and my low grunts. Her ass jiggled with each thrust, waist beads clicking softly against my hips.

I leaned over her, chest to her back, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, pinching the nipple hard while the other reached around to rub her clit in tight circles.

She shattered again, screaming into the pillow, walls pulsing around me, milking me as she came.

I followed right after, deep, buried, groaning her name as I spilled inside her, hips jerking, grip bruising on her waist.

We collapsed together, sweaty, breathless, tangled.

I leaned over her back, still buried deep, my lips brushing her ear as I whispered, “Why do you taste like this? Like sin and honey and everything I’m not supposed to have.”

She froze for half a second.

Then she pushed up suddenly, sliding off me with a wet sound that made us both gasp.

She scrambled to her feet, arms crossing over her breasts, hands trying to cover what I’d already seen, touched, tasted.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, voice shaking. “We can’t keep…”

I stood too. Naked. Hard. Still wet from her.

She backed away, eyes wide, steps quick and unsteady. I followed.

She kept retreating until her back hit the wardrobe with a soft thud. The wood rattled. Her breath hitched.

I closed the distance slowly, palms flat on the doors on either side of her head, caging her without touching.

“How about we make this the last time?” I murmured, voice low, rough. “I promise. One more. Then we stop. For real.”

Her eyes searched mine, doubt, desire, fear all tangled together.

I didn’t wait for an answer.

My hands slid down her sides, found her ass, squeezed hard, fingers digging into soft flesh, pulling her hips forward until her bare stomach pressed against my cock.

I kissed her.

Deep. Hungry. Teeth on her lower lip, tongue claiming her mouth like I owned it.

She moaned into the kiss, soft, broken and her arms came up, wrapping around my neck.

I lifted her again.

Her legs hooked around my waist instantly, ankles locking at my lower back.

I turned us, pressed her against the wardrobe, and thrust back inside her in one hard stroke.

She cried out sharp, loud, head falling back against the wood.

I fucked her hard.

Fast.

Relentless.

The wardrobe rocked with every thrust, doors banging, mirror rattling, the whole frame groaning under the force.

Her nails dug into my shoulders, legs squeezing tighter, heels digging into my ass like she wanted me deeper.

She started moaning in languages I couldn’t understand, sharp words mixed with gasps and whimpers, then something softer, almost pleading in another tongue I didn’t know.

Her voice cracked, rose, broke into cries that echoed off the walls.

I felt her clench around me, tight, fluttering, her body shaking as she came again, walls pulsing, milking me.

I couldn’t hold back.

I thrust deep one last time and released inside her, hot, thick pulses that made me groan against her neck.

She went still for a second, breathing ragged.

Then she punched my shoulder, weak, playful and asked in a shaky whisper, “Why did you release inside me?”

I smiled against her skin. “Because you feel too good not to.”

She laughed softly, breathless.

“How about your mouth?” I asked.

Her eyes flicked up to mine, dark, mischievous.

I pulled out slowly, set her down.

She sank to her knees without hesitation.

Her mouth closed around me, hot, wet, perfect.

She sucked hard, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. One hand gripped the base, stroking what she couldn’t take, the other cupped my balls, rolling gently.

I groaned, hand fisting in her hair.

She looked up at me, eyes watering, lips stretched, mascara smudged and took me deeper.

I came fast, hard spilling into her mouth, hips jerking, groaning her name.

She swallowed every drop, then pulled off with a soft pop, licking her lips.

I reached down to help her up.

But she was already moving.

She stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, gave me one last look, half smile, half regret then turned and ran out of the room.

The door left wide open behind her.

I stood there, chest heaving, heart pounding, listening to her footsteps disappear down the hallway.

The house went quiet again, just the faint creak of the wardrobe settling back into place.

And the taste of her still on my tongue.