Page 149 of Broken Honor

Then his rhythm changes—deeper, faster, still tender but with more weight behind it. My ass bounces with each thrust, his pelvis slapping softly against the fullness of my cheeks. I feel every inch of him, every shift in angle, every brush of my g-spot as he moves.

My clit pulses against the edge of the vanity, and the pressure builds fast, sharp, delicious.

“I’m close,” I moan. “Right there…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers, one hand leaving my hip to slide beneath me. His fingers find my clit, rubbing slow, tight circles as he fucks me through it.

I break.

My orgasm slams into me. My walls tighten, pulsing around his cock, and I cry out as my legs go weak.

“Fuck—yes,” he groans. “That’s it. Let me feel you come.”

I shiver as he presses a soft kiss between my shoulder blades. His hands trace down my hips. Then he leans closer and murmurs in my ear, “Come with me.”

Before I can ask where, he pulls out. A string of wetness trails down my thigh, and I moan at the loss.

But he doesn’t give me time to mourn it.

He turns me gently and lifts me into his arms. I squeal softly, but he silences it with a kiss—deep and warm and full of hunger that hasn’t even begun to fade.

He carries me across the room. Then my back hits the wall.

He presses me there—bare skin to cool paint—his body flush against mine, his cock nestled between my thighs, hard and hot and ready. His hands roam down my sides, over the soft swell of my ass, gripping my flesh like he can’t believe I’m real.

“I love you like this,” he groans. “Pinned between me and the wall. Legs spread. Pussy dripping. Ready for more.”

My legs wrap around his waist on instinct, and I feel his cock slide through my folds again.

“Please,” I whisper, breathless. “I want you back inside me.”

He lines himself up with one hand and locks his gaze on mine.

“You want it?”

I nod.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say you want me to fuck this pretty pussy against the wall.”

My cheeks heat, but something in me wants to give him that. All of it.

“I want you to fuck my pussy,” I say, breath hitching. “I want you deep.”

His eyes flash, and then he thrusts upward.

My mouth drops open as he pushes back inside—one hard, wet, perfect motion. He fills me again, and the stretch is intense, sharper this time with how sensitive I am.

“God,” he groans. “You’re still so tight.”

I’m pinned between the wall and his body, thick thighs wrapped around him, my vagina stretched wide around his cock. He starts to move—thrusting up into me, using the wall for leverage. His cock drags against every swollen ridge inside me, hitting deep, fast, hungry.

My breasts bounce with each thrust, my back arching against the wall. His hands grab under my thighs, holding me up, guiding every snap of his hips.

“You feel that?” he pants, burying his face in my neck. “That’s how perfect this pussy takes me. Like it was made to fit my cock.”

My arms wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his back as he slams into me again and again. The sound of our bodies meeting echoes through the room—wet, obscene, relentless.

I moan loud against his ear. “You’re so deep—oh god—keep going…”

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