PINNED DOWN part 3

Charlotte’s POV

Without warning, he thrust back inside me, brutal and deep, the force jolting me forward against the car. His other hand slid down my spine, gripping my ass tight as he pounded into me, the wet sounds obscene in the empty lot.

“Do you hear that?” he growled, snapping his hips harder. “That sloppy noise? That’s you—soaking my cock, begging for more.”

The bonnet groaned under me as Marcus slammed inside, every thrust jarring through my body, but he wasn’t satisfied with just fucking me. His hand snaked up again, wrapping around my throat, tilting my head back so I was forced to look up at him.

“You see where we are, slut?” he growled, his hips never slowing, every word punctuated with a brutal thrust. “Anyone could walk in right now—the guard, a stranger, anyone—and they’d find you spread out, dripping, begging for cock like the filthy whore you are.”

His words hit me harder than his thrusts, shame and heat tangling together until I was moaning louder, clenching tighter around him.

“That’s it,” he sneered, smirking down at me. “You love it. The risk, the filth. Say it.”

“I—I love it,” I gasped, choking on the confession as his grip on my throat tightened just enough to blur my vision. “God, Marcus, I love it. I’m your dirty slut.”

Marcus only laughed, a low, cruel rumble against my ear. “Pathetic,” he growled, yanking my head up by the hair so I could see our reflection in the dark windshield. My mascara was smeared, lips swollen, spit glistening at the corner of my mouth. “Look at yourself, Charlotte. You’re a fucking mess—my filthy little whore. And you love it.”

“Yes!” I cried, the word ripped from my throat as he slammed into me harder.

The dark chuckle that rumbled from him made me shiver. He pulled out abruptly, leaving me whimpering, only to flip me over on the bonnet so my chest pressed flat against the cold metal, my ass in the air. He spanked me hard, the sound echoing off the garage walls, making my pussy drip down my thighs.

“Count,” he ordered.

The first strike landed sharp and hot. “One,” I moaned.

The second cracked against me, harder. “Two.”

By the fifth, my legs were shaking, my cunt throbbing so hard I could barely breathe.

“That’s enough,” Marcus said, his voice low and dangerous. He gripped my hair, yanking my head back, and shoved himself inside me again from behind, deeper this time, the new angle forcing a scream from my throat.

“You’re going to cum only when I say,” he growled into my ear, pounding me against the car so hard the whole frame rocked. “Hold it.”

I clawed at the bonnet, every nerve lit with fire, my body desperate for release. His hand slipped between my thighs, thumb grinding against my clit with cruel precision, sending shocks of pleasure so intense I nearly blacked out.

“Beg harder,” he demanded, thrusting faster.

“Please, Marcus,” I sobbed, my voice ragged. “Please let me cum, I can’t—I can’t hold it—please—”

He slammed deeper, his cock filling me until I thought I’d split apart, and bit down on my shoulder, his teeth sinking into flesh. “Not yet,” he snarled, dragging me right to the edge, holding me there, torturing me with the denial.

He groaned, the sound guttural, and tightened his grip on my throat again, cutting off just enough air to make me dizzy. “Good girl. Now you’re going to cum for me, right fucking now. Make a mess. I want every drop.”

The moment his command tore through me, I shattered. My orgasm ripped me apart, violent and wet, my scream muffled against the bonnet as my pussy milked his cock, soaking both of us, the hot flood dripping down my thighs and pooling onto the metal beneath.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Marcus grunted, his thrusts growing wild, sloppy, punishing. He bit my neck hard enough to bruise, rutting into me like an animal. “You’re still dripping, still clenching. You’re mine to ruin.”

I sobbed, shaking as wave after wave crashed through me, my body collapsing under his grip. And still, he didn’t stop. His cock pistoled in and out, his growls filling the garage.

Finally, he pulled out, my cunt clenching desperately around nothing, and shoved me down onto the garage floor. My knees hit the concrete, my body limp, mouth falling open as he fisted my hair and growled, “Open wide, slut.”

I obeyed instantly, tongue out, eyes glazed. He pumped his thick cock with one hand, the other still tangled in my hair, and with a final deep groan he spilled into my mouth, hot, thick spurts coating my tongue and throat. I swallowed greedily, moaning at the taste, then licked him clean, sucking every drop from his cock like the filthy whore he’d made me.

“Good girl,” Marcus muttered, tucking himself back into his pants before scooping me effortlessly into his arms. My body felt boneless, ruined, but safe as he carried me to his car. He settled me gently into the passenger seat, buckled me in, and slid behind the wheel.

The drive was silent, except for the pounding of my heart. My thighs still trembled, the sting of his spanks a reminder of who I belonged to. At his place, he undressed me slowly, bathed me in warm water, his rough hands surprisingly tender as he washed away the sweat and mess. He fed me, small bites between sips of water, then laid me in his bed, pulling the covers tight around me.

As sleep dragged me under, one truth was crystal clear: it was the weekend, and I knew better now than to tempt Marcus. He was more than just a man I craved—he was a storm I’d surrendered to, and I had no doubt he’d take me again and again, exactly how he pleased.