Lara Wilson Nude Novels & Stories

I grabbed her hips harder and picked up speed, pounding into her with more force, watching her ass ripple with every thrust. “Watch yourself in the mirror,” I growled, my voice rough with lust. “Watch how your face changes when Uncle fucks you doggy style. You look so fucking slutty like this, Lara—so innocent but creaming all over my cock.” Lara moaned louder, her eyes locked on her reflection. Her tits bounced wildly under the thin fabric, nipples dark and visible. I reached around and rubbed her swollen clit in firm circles while thrusting deep, hitting that spot inside her that made her legs tremble. The phone kept recording every second—the way her mouth fell open, the glassy look in he

I was basically wearing three pieces of matching black lace and a pair of red heels that were legally classified as lethal weapons. “You’ve got that I’m going to eat you alive look in your eyes. Spill it, who’s the lusty mark?” I checked the floor through the velvet curtain sighting a guy in a charcoal suit. “Table four. He’s been staring at the stage for an hour, smelling like old money and suppressed aggression.” I smirked “my Favourite combination.” Ooh a broody one,” Jax chuckled slapping my hip affectionately. “Go get him, girl I’ve got the 10pm pole set. Don’t be too long, or I’ll have to start the show without my Favourite backup.”

I heard her gasp softly, trying not to be loud but not being able to help herself, as I gently pinched the nipple of her breast that wasn’t inside my mouth. “I need you inside me,” Lara said with a quiet yet husky voice. I detached my mouth from her nipple and let my hand drop as she lifted herself off me, allowing me to lift myself slightly, and both of us quickly pulled down our trousers and underwear. The moment I pulled down my underwear, my cock sprang out, revealing my seven-inch length. I saw Lara’s eyes drop to my throbbing erection and as they did my eyes travelled down her body to the strip of dark pubic hair that led down to the shape of her pussy between her parted legs.

She no longer looks away. The evidence piles up: emails, false ultrasounds, contradictory analyses. The pieces align. The case is opened. Cassandre is no longer a silent threat. She is a target of truth, of justice. And in Lyra’s eyes, for the first time in weeks, I no longer see terror. I see a woman standing. Standing, strong, pregnant and alive. And beside her, I stand there. Not to repair. To begin.