Page 77 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

She shudders when my cock presses against her pussy.

“You’re mine, Lara. And your pussy belongs to me. I’ll do whatever I want with it,” I growl, pulling her down onto me.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders as my cock forces her pussy wide open, spreading her and filling her.

Our bodies fit together perfectly.

I hold her hips, lifting and dropping her onto myself, spreading my thighs and arching my hips upwards to meet her. I use her body like a toy, savoring the way her face distorts with pleasure, her lips parted, and those beautiful, angelic sounds spilling from her.

Each time I push into her, the need grows.

It’s impossible, but I want more. I want more of her.

I tug her pussy over my cock and push her onto me, penetrating as deep as I can. Then I rock her hips back and forth instead of up and down, grinding her over me, her clit rubbing against the base of my cock, causing her pussy to tighten around my shaft and her legs to start shaking.

I have never felt such pleasure before in my life.

How is it possible for her to be this perfect?

Lara tilts her head back, exposing her long, slender neck to me, her hair loose down her back. Her breasts, round and full, bounce with each movement, her nipples erect, dark, round peaks. I run my hand up her spine and take a handful of her hair, pulling with a steady, even force, locking her in place as I grind her even harder against me.

It’s her undoing.

She can’t escape me. She is at my mercy, and I am giving her exactly what she desires.

And it breaks her apart.

She arches towards me, gasping, her legs shaking.

Her stomach muscles tighten and her pussy clamps down on me.

I groan with pleasure as her orgasm spasms through her, wave after wave convulsing over my cock.

I explode as well, deep inside her, connected to her, and never wanting to let go.

***

Lara lies against my chest with her head on my shoulder, her breathing heavy.

I am still inside her as we sit quietly, slowing our racing hearts.

My fingers stoke lazily through her soft hair, down her back and over her ass, I lift my hand and do it again.

My body is shaken, but it’s not because of the intensity of our pleasure together; it’s because of how much she matters to me. The thought of losing her, the fear—it shook me to my core. And being with her now, after the fight, only strengthened the realization.

She means the world to me.

I need to tell her. She needs to know how I feel.

Lara lets out a groan of discomfort, and I lift her to see her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask with concern.

“I don’t feel well,” she says, barely a whisper. “It happened earlier today as well, that’s why I had to call for help.”

“You should have called me, Lara,” I complain, but then, seeing the look on her face, I realize how bad she is. I carefully lift her off me and set her on the sofa.

“What do you need?” I ask, brushing my hand over her forehead. She doesn’t feel hot, but that only means she doesn’t have a fever. It could be anything.

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