Page 39 of Siren

The sheets were pushed low around my hips.

One thigh thrown over his.

His hand splayed on it—heavy and warm, like a man claiming what he’d earned.

His chest pressed to my back, breath steady against my skin. Every inch of him still touched me. Still lingered inside me.

Like we hadn’t stopped—just paused somewhere between the third orgasm and the fourth round.

And maybe that was true. Because I hadn’t moved.

Not when the sun peeked in. Not when my thighs trembled with the slow, steady ache of being fucked senseless.

Not even when my pussy clenched from memory alone.

God.

I waswrecked.

Still swollen. Still wet. Still tasting him at the back of my throat.

He hadn’t just fucked me.

Heworshippedme.

Heruinedme.

He talked that shit with a voice that sounded like gravel dipped in syrup. Told me it washis pussy. His fat pussy. His perfect pussy.That he wanted it from the moment he met me—knew it would beas good as my voice, as wet as my lips, as deep as my throat he wanted to coat.

And hemeantevery word of it.

I could still feel his dick stretching me open. That curve. Thatgirth.Like he was made to fill me.

I’d never been fucked like that in my life. I shifted and felt the ache bloom again. My body shivered. My pussy clenched.

I wassore.

Happy. Fucked-stupid sore. And somehow—I feltshy.

Which made no damn sense.

I’d swallowed his cum like it was the last meal I’d ever get. Sweet. Salty.Thick.I’d moaned around him like I was starving. And I was.

Still might be.

Because we’d gone again before sleep claimed us.

I remembered climbing on top of him, planting my feet in the mattress, riding himhardwhile my tits bounced in time and his mouth latched onto them like he owned them.

I remembered his voice—low and filthy—telling me toride his dick,smacking my ass while I moaned through it.

I remembered being on all fours, biting the sheets as he pounded me from behind, thick and relentless, sweat dripping from his chest onto my back.

And when he pressed a finger into my ass and whispered,“You can take it, baby. This body was made for mine,”Icameagain—loud, shaking, calling out to God like I meant it.

I promised him shit I’d never promisedanyone.

And when I collapsed, it was with him still buried inside me—so deep I swore he was touching something sacred.

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