And just like that, my body’s already responding, she has me hard again in seconds. The sight of my cum still glistening on her skin? It’s gasoline.
She straddles me, slides down on my cock, and takes every inch like she was made for it.
Balancing her hands on my chest, she rocks her hips, riding my cock.
“Mmmm, so good,” she moans.
I try to watch her face, but my gaze keeps dragging to her tits bouncing as she fucks me, streaks of my cum drying against herskin. It’s dirty. It’s intimate. It’s exactly what gets me going again this fast.
Penelope adjusts, shifting her angle so my cock hits her deeper, harder, right where she needs it. I reach up and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
“You’re so wet, Angel. I can feel your juices dripping onto me.”
“You like that, Silas? Like knowing you do this to me even in my shitty apartment?"
“Fuck yeah,” I grind out as I grab her hips and start to fuck up into her, wanting her to come on my cock.
“Silas,” she gasps. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes. Oh God. Don’t stop.” Her nails dig into my chest, and her head tips back.
She screams her release, body seizing, pussy tightening around me like a python strangling its prey. I shout, finding my own release for the second time tonight, my cock jerking inside her as my cum fills her cunt.
I hold her by her waist as she twitches and gasps, riding out her climax. When she finally comes down, her legs give out and she collapses onto my chest, tucking her face into my neck.
“Sleep, Angel,” I tell her, running my fingers up and down her back.
She goes limp against me, breath stuttering as her body trembles through the aftershocks. Her skin’s slick with sweat, her pulse still racing under my palm. I trace slow lines down her back until her breathing evens out, soft and steady.
“Sleep, Angel,” I whisper again, even though she’s already halfway there. Her lashes flutter once before her body melts against mine.
I stay like that a minute—just holding her. The way her hair sticks to her temple. The faint red marks on her waist where my hands had been. She’s wrecked and perfect. Mine, at least for tonight.
Carefully, I roll her off me. She makes a small sound in protest, but doesn’t wake. I sit on the edge of the bed, muscles aching, and drag in a breath that still tastes like her.
I find the bathroom, flick on the light, and stare at myself in the mirror for a second—naked, sweaty, eyes still blown wide. There’s a towel on the rack. I wet it, run it over my cock, then go back to her.
She’s sprawled across the bed, the sheet twisted around her legs. I kneel beside her, wiping her gently, cleaning away the mess I made. She stirs but doesn’t wake, only murmurs something that sounds like my name. My chest tightens for a second before I shove the feeling down and toss the towel aside.
I slide back under the blanket, pull her against me, and let her sink into my side. Her skin’s hot, her breath soft against my throat. I should get up. I should go home, to what’s familiar. But I don’t. I stay.
Because sleeping next to her like this—her skin on mine, no rules, no tokens of claim—feels better than any scene we ever did.
I want her like this for as long as she’ll let me have her.
Morning light slips through the blinds, cutting across her bed and my arm where it’s draped around her waist. She shifts, humming softly, pressing back into me.
“Morning,” I murmur against her hair.
“Mmm.” She stretches, still half-asleep, and I catch the faint smile on her lips. “You’re still here.”
“Didn’t feel like leaving.”
“Good.” Her hand finds mine under the blanket. “Because I need to talk to you.”
That sobers me up quickly.
Talk. That word never means anything good.
My mind spins through possibilities. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe I was too rough. Maybe the whole come-inside-her thing freaked her out, even though she’s the one who asked for it. Yeah, I pay for her birth control and tests—it’s part of my kink, part of the control—but maybe that line finally hit her wrong.
