Page 80 of Iron Roses

She crashes into me again, mouth devouring mine, hands clawing at my shirt, trying to rip it open. I let her. I let her do whatever she needs.

Because she could tear me apart right now, and I’d let her.

Her tongue tangles with mine. Wet, frantic, desperate. I can taste the salt of her tears and the fire in her breath, and her body presses into mine like she’s trying to burn away everything we can’t say.

We’re both breathing like we’ve just come back from war.

Her mouth is still on mine when I grab her thighs and lift her—bare skin hot in my hands, legs wrapping instinctively around my waist. She gasps into my mouth, nails digging into my shoulders, but I’m already moving.

The table is a blur in the corner of my eye—papers, books, glass, scattered clutter—and I don't hesitate. I get there in three steps, turn, and sweep everything off the surface with one arm. The sound of it crashing to the floor is nothing compared to the sound she makes when I set her down, ass to wood, legs still spread, breath coming in ragged bursts.

I grip her knees and open her.

Her cunt is flushed, glistening—dripping with fury and want. I drop to my knees without a word. Without a fucking thought.

She tries to speak, maybe curse, maybe beg, but her head snaps back and her hands fly to the edge of the table the second my mouth hits her.

I devour her.

Tongue flat, wide, licking up every drop like I’m starving. I groan into her, the sound vibrating against her clit, and she shudders—hips bucking, thighs clamping around my head for one wild second before she breaks apart all over again.

I grab her thighs, pull them wider, hold her open as I bury my face between her legs. I suck her clit between my lips, tongue flicking. She’s soaked.

Every part of her is slick and needy, and I lap at her like I’m claiming territory. I push my tongue into her pussy, fucking her with it, tongue-fucking her deep, and she screams—not a word, just raw sound, her voice breaking as she arches off the table, eyes squeezed shut, chest rising like she can’t get enough air.

Her thighs are still trembling when I rise from between them, lips wet, breath hot. I grab her by the waist—rough, urgent—and lift her off the table.

She gasps, but doesn’t fight it.

Her arms wrap around my neck instinctively, her legs around my hips, and I carry her across the room without stopping, without a word. Her skin is flushed and sweating against mine, her chest heaving against my sternum, and all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and her breath dragging in shallow, wrecked gasps.

I reach the wall and turn her in my arms.

I pin her there—chest to plaster, palms spread wide beside her face. Her back arches, ass pressing against me, still slick, still open. I step back just long enough to shove my pants down. They drop to the floor with a dull thud.

My cock is throbbing. So hard it hurts.

I grab her hips, tilt her forward slightly, and thrust into her in one deep, merciless stroke.

She gasps—loud, high, broken—and I groan as her pussy clamps down around me, tight, wet, dragging me deeper with every inch. Her body jerks against the wall, cheek pressing to it, nails scraping across the paint.

I grip her hip with one hand, the other reaching around her front. I slide it up, palm dragging across her stomach, over her ribs, until I find her breasts. I grab one, full and heavy in my hand, and pinch her nipple hard between two fingers.

Her ass bounces against my hips with every movement, her body pinned by mine, her cheek smeared against the wall as I fuck her from behind with everything I’ve been holding back.

I lean in—mouth at her shoulder, her neck—and I kiss her there, open-mouthed and hungry. I bite gently. Then harder. My teeth sink just enough to make her flinch, to make her moan, to make her melt under me completely.

I’m fully inside her.

Thrusting, cock grinding into her with every movement. My hand twists her nipple harder, rolls it, then moves to the other, tugging, teasing, while my hips keep driving into her from behind.

Her body tightens against me—sudden, trembling, pulling me in like a wave crashing against rock. I feel the moment she shatters. Her pussy clenches around my cock in hard, wet pulses, milking me with each wave, hips jerking into mine as she comes.

The sound she makes—half-cry, half-moan—is strangled by the wall, her cheek pressed flat, fingers clawing the plaster.

And then I explode inside her—groaning, forehead dropping to the back of her neck, hips grinding deep as I spill into her. My cock twitches inside her with every pulse, cum flooding her, thick and hot and endless. I grip her hip so tightly I feel her flinch—but I can’t let go. Not yet.

My chest heaves against her spine. I stay there.

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