Page 15 of Bunker Down, Baby

“Fuck,” she gasps, biting my shoulder, and it makes me snap.

I fuck her harder.

She takes it like a dream.

Moaning, begging, biting at my neck, my jaw, my fucking mouth.

I keep one hand locked around her hip, the other gripping her throat, tilting her head back, forcing her to look at me.

I want to see it.

I want to watch her fall apart.

Her pupils are wide, her lips parted, her body shaking around me. “You’re mine,” I growl.

She laughs. A soft, wicked little sound. “No, baby.” She moans, tilting her hips just right, squeezing around me. “You’re mine.”

I curse, slamming her against the tile, taking her harder, rougher, deeper.

“Fucking say it,” I demand. “Say it, Maple.”

Her head falls back. She gasps, moans, fucking whimpers as I drive into her, hitting every perfect spot, over and over, until she shatters.

Hard.

Tight.

Fucking perfect.

Her whole body clenches around me, her nails raking down my back, and I lose it, too.

I bury myself deep, groaning into her throat as I come so hard I fucking see stars.

Her body milks every last drop out of me.

And when it’s over she smiles.

That slow, lazy, I fucking won smile.

I’m still catching my breath when she slides off my cock, stretching like a satisfied little hellcat while I’m still reeling.

I don’t move.

I can’t move.

My body feels wrecked, my legs useless, my brain absolutely fried.

What the fuck just happened?

She ruined me.

That’s what happened.

I should be plotting my escape.

But instead, I’m standing here half-conscious in a bunker shower, my knees questionable, my cum sliding down her thigh while she hums like she just had the best meal of her life.

She flicks the water off and steps out like this is a normal-ass morning in our normal-ass married life.

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