Not even a twitch. She laughed. Or maybe cried. It came out like both. Like her body couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to do anymore. She raised the gun higher. Her finger hovered. Curled. Just do it. Just pull the trigger. He wouldn’t feel a thing. He’d die peacefully. Just like this. With that fucking calm on his face. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve sleep. Or comfort. Or softness. She did. And he’d taken it from her. He’d taken everything. Her heart beat faster. Her lips trembled. The pressure behind her eyes was blinding now. A tear slipped out, and she didn’t wipe it. “Look at me,” she said, breath catching hard. “Please, Dominic. Just..just fucking look at me.” And still. Nothing. Her hand dropped a little. Her shoulders curled in. She bit her bottom lip so hard it started to bleed. Her eyes burned. And then she couldn’t hold it anymore. Her knees hit the floor first. Then her palms. The gun slid out of her hand and landed be
She didn’t wipe the tears. Not because she didn’t feel them. But because they deserved to fall. They slid down her cheeks in hot, aching trails, carving through the heat still clinging to her skin like the aftertaste of sin. They soaked into her jaw, the corners of her mouth, the hollow of her neck. And still, she didn’t move. She didn’t lift a hand to stop them. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. It was like her body had been emptied of instinct. Like the part of her that used to feel things had crawled out of her chest and died. Her legs trembled beneath her. She could feel the soreness between her thighs. Her pussy was still wet… not from pleasure, but from everything that came after. The mess. The ruin. The brutal knowing. Her heart wasn’t breaking anymore. It had already cracked clean through. What was left inside her chest was hollow. Like someone had reached in during the night and scooped it all out with their bare hands. She turned toward the dresser. Slowly. Lik
Isadora wanted more. She wanted to flip him onto his back and ride him until he cried. She wanted to tie him to the fucking headboard, gag his pretty mouth, edge him for hours, then sit on his face until he begged to breathe. But when she sat up, sticky thighs trembling as she slowly pulled herself off his cock, the first thing she saw..was his face. He was asleep. Mouth parted slightly. Lips swollen from the way she’d bitten him. His chest was still slick, flushed from sex, his arms sprawled out like he’d just been fucking worshiped. And the bastard had the nerve to fall asleep. She blinked. Stared at him. Her mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. “Fucking bastard,” she muttered. She shook her head, climbed off the bed completely, legs sore, her cunt leaking a mix of fluids that painted the insides of her thighs. Her walk was unsteady. Her skin was tacky with sweat. Her head was spinning. She needed to go to where she last saw her phone and take her phone
Her fingers slid down between her thighs again. She rubbed herself right where they were joined, moaning as her clit throbbed, as the overstretched lips of her pussy ached and pulsed around the thick length still buried in her.“You’re going to sit there,” she whispered, voice thick and shaking with pleasure, “and let me fuck the cum out of you. Every last drop. Until you beg me to stop.”She started bouncing again.This time slower.Her pussy slapped against his hips with every thrust and dripping and creamy . His cock slipped deeper, twitching inside her, overstimulated and desperate, but he didn’t pull out.He couldn’t.She was milking him.Her walls dragged against every nerve. Every vein. Her cunt was swallowing him whole, again and again and again, until his eyes rolled back.“Too much,” he groaned, voice strained.She smiled.“Too fucking bad.”Her hands grabbed his wrists.Pinned them above his head.She rode him harder now, faster, her tits bouncing with every bounce of her b
Isadora lay there for a long time. Naked. Wet. Fucked beyond recognition. Her breath shallow. Her thighs soaked. Her cunt still twitching from the last orgasm he forced out of her. She could feel it leaking…his cum, a hot, messy cocktail drenching the sheets. And still, he hadn’t moved. He was lying beside her, his chest rising and falling, arms behind his head like he owned the fucking world. Like he had just conquered her. But he hadn’t. Not yet. She turned her head. Looked at him. At the cock still hard and twitching against his stomach, thick and veiny and flushed a dark, dangerous red. Her lips curled. She was plotting something. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said.“It’s my turn to make you beg” He glanced at her, brow cocked, confused what was she talking about? She climbed on top of him, like a cat crawling into a lap she was about to claw to ribbons. Her tits brushed his chest, nipples still sore, still hardened from everything he’d done. Her thighs strad
As his hands were already sliding down her sides again like she was a possession he had every right to worship and destroy. Her thighs were still trembling. Her cunt still swollen and slick from everything he’d taken from her. Her chest rose and fell in jagged waves, lips parted, eyes half-closed, unable to focus on anything but him and the heat of his body pressing against hers again. “You think we’re done?” he whispered against her mouth. “I haven’t even started.” Her body jolted as his fingers brushed her clit again. She hissed, tried to squirm, but he pinned her with a palm flat against her belly and the full weight of his body draped over hers like a second skin. “You came four times,” he murmured, kissing the curve of her jaw, then lower. “But I haven’t even fucked you the way I want yet. You know what I want?” She shook her head. He smiled. He reached down, lifted her leg, hooked it over his shoulder, then did the same with the other. Spreading her open. Bending her in