Craving The Wrong Brother's Dick(5)

He pulled out so suddenly that a desperate, empty ache bloomed inside me, a hollow cry ripping from my throat before I could stop it. But Damien didn’t give me time to mourn the loss. His strong hands gripped under my thighs, spinning me effortlessly, lifting me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist on pure instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back, pulling him closer. The soaked lace of my panties was still twisted obscenely to the side, and the thick, throbbing head of his cock found my dripping entrance again, as if it knew exactly where it belonged.

My back slammed against the cool marble wall, stealing my breath, and in one brutal, unforgiving stroke, he buried himself to the root. The stretch was exquisite agony, his cock felt impossibly huge, splitting me open, filling every aching inch. Air exploded from my lungs in a shattered gasp.

“Fuck, Damien—”

He didn’t wait, didn’t give me a second to adjust. His hips snapped forward in hard, punishing thrusts that lifted me off my feet with every plunge, only for gravity to slam me back down onto his cock, impaling me deeper. My arms flew around his neck, nails digging into the corded muscle there, clinging for dear life as he fucked me against the wall like he both hated me and couldn’t live without me.

“Oh God… oh God, Damien… yes, right there… harder… ahn!”

The words tore from my lips, raw and shameless, echoing off the bathroom tiles. The air was thick with the wet, obscene slap of his hips against mine, the filthy squelch of my pussy greedily swallowing him again and again, my back squeaking against the marble with every ruthless drive. His cock dragged along my walls, hitting that devastating spot inside me that turned my moans into broken sobs.

“Nnghhaa! Damien… please… fuck me harder!”

My tits bounced wildly beneath the slipping silk of my wedding gown, nipples hard and aching, brushing against the rough fabric of his tuxedo jacket with every violent thrust. I could feel it building again, that vicious, coiling heat low in my belly, twisting tighter, faster, threatening to shatter me.

My walls fluttered desperately around him, and he growled low in his throat, feeling it too. His thrusts turned erratic, hips snapping harder, chasing his own release while driving me toward mine.

“Fuck, baby… You feel so good,” he rasped against my throat, teeth scraping my racing pulse. “Gonna fill my brother’s wife on her wedding night… mark you as mine.”

The filthy words detonated inside me like a bomb. My pussy clamped down hard, milking him greedily, and I felt him swell even thicker, the tell-tale jerk of his cock right before he lost control.

“Yes… Yes… don’t stop! Ahahah!” I pleaded, voice breaking.

His hand shoved between our slick bodies, fingers finding my swollen clit, rubbing fast, vicious circles through the mess of us. The pressure was unbearable, perfect.

“Come little bride,” he ordered, voice shredded with need. “Come on my cock while I pump you full.”

That was it, I shattered.

I screamed his name, loud enough for anyone in the hallway to hear, my pussy spasming in violent, endless waves around his thrusting cock. My whole body seized, thighs shaking uncontrollably around his waist, nails raking bloody trails down his neck as ecstasy tore through me.

He slammed in one last time and stayed buried deep, hips grinding. My head fell back against the wall, mouth open, panting helplessly. He stayed buried inside me, cock still twitching, my release painted his cock, sliding hot and sticky down my thighs.

He didn’t pull out. He just held me there, pinned to the wall, legs still wrapped around him, and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Mine,” he whispered, softer this time, almost reverent.

And God help me, with my cum dripping out of me and my wedding ring glinting mockingly under the bathroom lights, I knew I would never truly belong to anyone else.

He eased out of me slowly, the wet drag making us both shudder. A thick trickle of my release slid down my thigh, warm and utterly obscene. Damien caught it with two fingers, pushing it deliberately back inside me, and I whimpered at the possessive gesture, my oversensitive walls fluttering around the intrusion.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered against my swollen lips, voice rough as gravel. “He can wait another few minutes for his perfect little bride.”

Then his mouth claimed mine again—slower, deeper, devouring me like he was memorizing my taste. The kiss left me dizzy, boneless.

Without warning, his lips closed over one lace-covered breast. He sucked hard, teeth scraping the stiff, aching peak through the delicate fabric until I arched off the wall, fingers spearing into his dark hair, tugging desperately.

“Damien—ahh!”

He moved to the other breast, biting down just hard enough to send sparks of pain-pleasure shooting straight to my clit, then soothing the sting with slow, deliberate licks of his tongue. I was sobbing his name now, hips grinding against nothing, begging for more.

“Shh, love,” he murmured, rising to kiss a scorching path up my throat, nipping under my jaw. “I need you again. Need to feel you come apart on my cock one more time before we have to go out there and pretend.”

His cock, still rock-hard, slick with my wetness and his own cum, nudged my entrance. I was swollen, oversensitive, dripping with him, but the blunt head sliding through my folds made me jerk and moan.

“Too much,” I gasped, even as my hips rolled forward shamelessly, chasing him.

“Never too much,” he growled, and thrust.

One brutal stroke seated him to the root again. I cried out, nails raking down his back hard enough to shred his shirt. He didn’t give me time to breathe—just pulled back and slammed in again, again, again, relentlessly, hips snapping with a force that rattled my teeth and made my vision blur.

The bathroom filled with the wet sounds of him fucking me raw, my back scraping the wall, his low grunts muffled against my neck. Every thrust dragged the thick head of his cock across that devastating spot inside me, turning my spine to liquid fire. My legs shook; I couldn’t keep them locked around him anymore. He hooked one over his forearm, spreading me wider, opening me deeper, pounding into me at an angle that had me seeing stars.

“Fuck—look at you,” he snarled, eyes dark and feral as he watched himself disappear into me over and over. “Taking my cock so perfectly… like you were made for it.”

I tried to answer, but another merciless thrust punched the air from my lungs. My moans fractured into high, broken sobs, “Haaah… nnh… ahn!” until even those died, leaving me clinging to him, mouth open in a silent scream as he wrecked me completely.

He shifted angles, grinding against my clit with every punishing stroke, and the pleasure coiled viciously tight again. His rhythm stuttered; I felt him swell impossibly thicker inside me, stretching me to my limits.

“Come,” he ordered, voice cracking with desperation. “Come now, love… I can’t hold—”

The command snapped me in half. My third orgasm tore through me without mercy, my vision whiting out, body seizing so hard I nearly dragged us both to the floor. I clamped down on him like a vice, pulsing, milking him desperately, and he followed with a hoarse shout, burying himself deep and spilling again, hot pulses flooding me as his hips jerked helplessly.

We stayed locked together, trembling violently, his forehead pressed to mine while aftershocks ripped through us. When he finally slipped free, a fresh gush of his cum followed, dripping down my thighs in thick rivulets. My legs gave out completely. I sagged, boneless, barely aware of anything but the throbbing ache between my legs and the way my body still craved him.

Damien caught me before I hit the floor, lowering me gently until I was on my knees in front of him, the cool tile biting into my skin through the ruined layers of my wedding dress. My head spun, my lips parted as I panted, staring up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He stood over me, cock still hard and glistening with his release, stroking himself slowly, deliberately. His eyes burned into mine, dark, possessive, utterly unrepentant.

“Open your mouth for me, little bride. Let me paint that pretty face… let me mark you where everyone will see.”

I couldn’t have denied him if I wanted to. My lips parted wider on a shaky exhale, tongue darting out instinctively. He groaned, hand moving faster, the slick sound obscene in the quiet bathroom.

“That’s it… good girl… haaah—fuck—”

His hips jerked, and the first thick rope of cum landed hot across my parted lips and tongue. I moaned at the taste—salty, filthy, purely him—swallowing what I could as he kept going, painting my cheeks, my chin, my forehead in heavy, deliberate stripes. Another spurt hit my waiting tongue, and I whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he designed my face with his release.

When he finally finished, he tucked himself away with shaking hands, then cupped my cum-streaked chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

“Perfect,” he whispered, thumb smearing a streak across my swollen bottom lip. “Now you’re truly mine.”

Just then, there came a knock at the door…