Page 25 of Veil of Dust

Bottles clatter behind her. One topples, shattering on the floor in a spray of glass and whiskey.

My hips pin hers. My dick’s hard, grinding against her pussy through her skirt. She tenses, but doesn’t pull away.

Her legs hook around my thighs, boots digging into my sides. She’s all sharp edges, pulling me closer like she’s daring me to break.

She kisses like she’s fighting me. Tongue lashing, teeth scraping. “Harder, asshole,” she snaps, biting my lip.

Blood stings my mouth. I groan, the sound raw. It’s not pain—it’s hunger.

Her nails claw my shoulder, scraping skin. I hiss, my dick twitching against her.

“Keep up,” she taunts, her voice low and jagged. Her bite draws more blood, and I lean into it.

I lift her onto the bar. Her ass hits the wood with a thud, her legs spreading wider.

Her hands rip at my shirt. Buttons pop, scattering across the floor like shrapnel.

I shove her skirt up, bunching it around her hips. No panties—just her bare pussy, wet and glistening under the dim light.

“Fucking tease,” I growl, my eyes locked on hers. She’s daring me to take what I want.

She smirks, sharp and dangerous. “Then do something about it, bastard.”

I unzip, freeing my dick. It’s throbbing, heavy in my hand. I drag the tip over her clit, slow, teasing her entrance.

She hisses, nails digging into my neck. “Don’t fucking play with me, Tiziano.”

I push in, slow at first, feeling her pussy stretch around me. She’s tight, hot, gripping every inch. “Goddamn,” she breathes, her voice cracking.

I thrust deeper, filling her completely. Her walls pulse, sucking me in like she owns me.

Her forehead drops to my shoulder. Her breath’s hot, ragged against my skin. “Move, you prick,” she demands.

I pull back, then slam in. Hard. The bar shakes under us.

She moans, loud and unfiltered. “Yeah, like that. Don’t stop.”

Her pussy clenches tighter, making my dick throb. I grab her tits through her shirt, feeling her nipples harden under my palms.

I rip her shirt open. Buttons fly, and her tits spill free. Her nipples are dark, stiff, begging for my mouth.

I kiss one, sucking hard, my tongue flicking the peak. She arches, gasping. “Fuck, again.”

I bite her nipple, tugging with my teeth. Her hips buck, grinding her pussy against my dick.

“More,” she pants, yanking my hair. Her other hand claws my back, leaving fire in its wake.

I lick her other nipple, swirling my tongue, then sucking until she’s writhing. My thrusts get harder, deeper, relentless.

“Faster, you bastard,” she orders, her voice breaking. Her heels slam against the bar, the wood groaning under the assault.

A stool crashes to the floor. Another glass shatters somewhere behind us. The chaos matches us—wreckage and need.

I fuck her harder, my dick pounding into her pussy. I slide a hand between us, finding her clit, swollen and slick.

I rub it, rough and fast, circling with my thumb. “Come for me,” I growl, my lips against her ear.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps, but her body betrays her, trembling under my touch. Her moans climb, sharp and desperate. “Fuck, Tiziano, don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop.”

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