Page 119 of Broken Honor

He smiles—a dark, satisfied smile.

“I told her I wasn’t interested,” he says, tracing my bottom lip. “I wished I was… but only you can make me feel this way.”

I glance down between us and see him—his penis fully erect, flushed, thick, and already leaking. My thighs twitch open even wider in silent invitation.

He steps closer. One hand grips my thigh hard, fingers digging into flesh as he spreads me wide, exposing every inch of my dripping vagina. His hips press forward until the head of his penis nestles against my opening.

He holds there—just long enough to make me ache.

“I need to feel you,” he growls. “All of you.”

And then he drives in.

I gasp as his shaft stretches me open, the thick, blunt head of his member forcing past my entrance. My vaginal walls clench instinctively around him, slick and tight, swallowing him inch by inch.

I grip the edge of the desk with both hands, bracing myself as he pushes deeper.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, biting his lip. “So tight… god, you feel like fucking heaven.”

He bottoms out—balls flush against me—and my lungs seize with the fullness. He stays there for a beat, letting me feel the throb of his cock pulsing inside my vagina.

“Is it too much?” he asks, voice tight.

I shake my head, fast, desperate. “No. Don’t stop.”

That smile again. A dangerous one.

“Good girl.”

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in with force, dragging a cry from my throat. His hands lock around my waist, guiding me against each thrust, driving himself deeper with every stroke.

The sound is obscene—wet, rhythmic slaps as his length slides in and out of my vagina. He leans over me, chest grazing mine, and his hand finds my breast beneath my shirt. He palms it, squeezes it roughly, pinching my nipple until I gasp.

“Look at how you take me,” he growls into my ear. “Like your pussy was made for my cock.”

My inner muscles clench, clinging to him. My thighs wrap around his hips, ankles locking at his back as he starts to really thrust into me—harder now, faster, with all the restraint burned away.

The desk creaks violently beneath us.

He grits out every word like it costs him to hold back.

“You feel so good. So fucking good.”

He kisses me again, tongue fucking into my mouth in rhythm with his length plunging into my vagina. Then he pulls back to see my face as he pounds into me—deep, brutal strokes that make the desk rock.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as his cock jerks deep inside me.

I cry out, thighs shaking, as I feel the first hot rush of his cum flooding my core. His rock pulses again and again, painting my walls, spilling everything he has.

He doesn’t stop moving. He grinds into me, pushing it deeper, making sure every drop stays inside my pussy.

We’re both soaked in sweat and slick, our bodies trembling, lips brushing but not kissing, gasping for air.

Then I feel it—his cock, thickening again inside me, stretching me wider.

I gasp.

“Already?” I whisper.

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