Chapter 188: Body pt 3 r18

The kiss was messy, desperate, all teeth and tongue while his hips rolled forward. The fat head of his cock pressed insistently against my hole, slick and insistent, stretching the already tender ring of muscle until it gave with a slow, burning pop.

I gasped into his mouth as he pushed in, inch by thick, relentless inch, deeper than last time, or maybe it only felt that way because of the angle, the way gravity and his grip forced me to take every brutal centimeter. The stretch was familiar yet devastatingly different: wider, fuller, the pressure blooming outward until I felt stuffed to the point of tears.

My rim fluttered helplessly around his shaft, trying to adjust, failing spectacularly as he kept sinking until his hips met my ass and he was buried to the root.

We both froze then, breathing hard against each other’s mouths. My chest heaved, lungs burning; his breath fanned hot across my swollen lips.

For one suspended heartbeat we just existed like that, locked together, trembling, his cock throbbing deep inside me while my walls clenched and rippled around him like they were trying to pull him even further in.

Then he moved.

He pulled out halfway, slow enough that I felt every ridge, every vein dragging against my sensitive insides, and slammed back in with a force that knocked the air from my lungs.

I cried out, sharp and broken, the sound echoing off the marble. The pace built quickly, brutal and unforgiving; each thrust rocked me up the wall, the cold surface biting into my shoulder blades while his body heat seared my front.

I was helpless, completely, beautifully helpless, held up only by his grip on my ass and thighs, pinned between marble and muscle, forced to take every punishing stroke.

He used the recoil of my body against the wall to bounce me back down onto his cock, the wet slap of skin on skin obscene in the quiet room, mingling with my own helpless moans and his low, guttural grunts.

Cassian was usually so controlled, so quiet even when he was wrecking me, but not tonight.

Tonight he groaned, deep, animal sounds that vibrated against my throat as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Fuck—” he rasped, voice wrecked, hot against my skin.

“So tight—perfect—fuck—Noah—” Each word landed like a brand, murmured right into my ear where I couldn’t escape them, couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear how desperate he sounded.

He sucked another mark into my throat while he fucked me harder, the fresh bruise blooming under his lips as I arched and whined, arousal spiking impossibly higher because hearing him lose it, really lose it, turned me on more than anything else could.

The pace turned frantic. His hips snapped forward faster, harder, chasing something primal; I felt every brutal thrust batter my prostate until sparks exploded behind my eyes.

I was close again, impossibly, embarrassingly close for the third time, pleasure coiling so tight in my gut I could barely breathe. “I’m—again—” I gasped, voice cracking, barely coherent.

“Fuck—” Cassian growled, burying himself deep and staying there, hips grinding in tight circles that pressed the head of his cock right against that spot.

His cock pulsed, swelled, and then he was coming, hot, thick spurts flooding me so deep I could feel every pulse, every jet painting my insides until warmth spilled out around his shaft, dripping down my crack and onto his balls.

We shook together, clinging, breathing ragged and uneven as the aftershocks rolled through us both.

He didn’t pull out right away. Instead he eased back just enough to let gravity do the work, slow, careful, his softening cock sliding free with a wet sound that made me wince.

Cum followed immediately, thick and warm, running down my thighs in obscene rivulets. My legs wouldn’t hold me; they trembled and buckled the second he tried to set me down.

Cassian caught me before I could fall, scooping me up again like I weighed nothing. My arms looped around his neck on reflex; my head lolled against his shoulder as he carried me across the room to the wide dressing table in the corner, the massive mirror above it reflecting the entire bedroom in unforgiving clarity.

He set me on my feet in front of it, barely. My knees shook; I would have collapsed if his arm hadn’t stayed locked around my waist, propping me upright against the cool edge of the table.

My reflection stared back at me: wrecked, flushed, hair a damp mess, lips swollen, throat covered in fresh red marks, thighs slick with cum and lube. I looked debauched. Ruined. Beautiful in the worst way.

Cassian stepped behind me, chest pressed to my back, one hand splayed possessively across my stomach while the other guided his cock, already hardening again, back to my entrance.

He pushed in slow, the slide easy now, slick with his own release and fresh lube. I gasped as he filled me again, the stretch reigniting every oversensitive nerve.

His free hand came up, fingers curling around my jaw, forcing my head up until our eyes met in the mirror. “Look at how pretty you are taking me,” he commanded, voice low and rough, hips already rolling forward in a slow, deep thrust that made me whimper.

I couldn’t look away.

In the glass I saw everything: my own wrecked expression, eyes glassy, mouth open on a silent moan, cheeks flushed crimson.

Damp hair plastered to my forehead with sweat. Fresh hickeys blooming across my throat and collarbones, older bruises from his fingers still visible on my hips, faint bite marks on my shoulders.

Evidence everywhere, marks of ownership, of surrender. And behind me, Cassian, dark hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched, muscles flexing with every powerful roll of his hips as he fucked me deep and steady, using my body like it was made for this.

He picked up speed, thrusts turning hard and punishing, battering my prostate with ruthless accuracy. Every slam forward drove the air from my lungs; every pull back left me clenching around him, desperate to keep him inside.

The mirror showed it all, the way my body rocked with each impact, the way my cock bounced against my stomach, leaking steadily again, the way my hole stretched wide around his thick shaft, glistening with cum and lube.

His hand came down, sharp, sudden, cracking across my ass. I jolted forward, crying out as the sting bloomed hot and bright, mixing with the pleasure until I couldn’t separate them.

Another spank, then another, each one timed with a brutal thrust until my skin burned and my moans turned high and broken. The pain only sharpened everything, made the pleasure feel dangerous, overwhelming.

He went impossibly deep, deeper than I thought possible, hitting places inside me that made sounds spill from my throat I didn’t recognize. High, keening, filthy noises I’d never made before. My own voice sounded foreign, wrecked, begging without words.

And then the thought cut through the haze, clear and devastating even mid-fuck: Can I go back? Can I go back to who I was before him, before this? Before the way he unraveled me with a single look, a single touch?

I looked at my reflection again, debauched, desperate, loving every second of it, and the honest answer hit me like a fist to the chest.

No.

I don’t want to go back.

The final build arrived fast, too fast, Cassian’s pace turning erratic, hips slamming forward as he chased his own release.

I clenched around him, the pressure unbearable, and then I was coming again, screaming his name, body convulsing, spilling weakly across the table while my hole spasmed around his cock.

The clench set him off; he buried himself deep with a guttural groan and flooded me again, hot pulses filling me until it leaked out around his shaft, dripping down my thighs.

We stayed like that, locked together, shaking, breathing hard, until he finally eased out, cum following in thick streams.

My legs gave completely; he caught me before I fell, turning me in his arms and kissing me like he knew the thoughts swirling in my head.

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