Page 70 of Blood Debt
She bites my neck. “Please.”
That’s enough.
I grip her hips, lift her just enough to angle myself, then pull her down onto my cock.
We groan at the same time.
She’s hot, wet, tight. Her cunt stretches around me inch by inch, and my breath catches when I bottom out inside her. She exhales with a shudder, forehead against mine, her fingers curled in my hair.
And then she moves.
She starts to ride me—rolling her hips, grinding down into me like she wants to carve me into her. I hold her waist, guiding her rhythm, watching her unravel above me.
Her moans echo off the glass.
She tastes like heat when she kisses me again—mouth open, tongue desperate, body bouncing now, faster, harder, her slickness coating my cock with every stroke.
“Fuck,” I groan, watching her. “You feel like heaven.”
Her nails scrape my shoulders, her thighs tremble, and she rides me like she never wants to stop.
I curse under my breath, eyes locked on her as she leans in, hair sticking to her damp skin, mouth parted—wild and flushed and stunning.
Then she does it.
Her hand tangles in my hair, yanks it back, and before I can speak—she spits into my mouth.
My groan is instant, deep from the chest. Her taste is on my tongue, hot and filthy, and I grab her ass hard, slamming her down onto me with a force that makes the entire car jolt.
"You little fuckin’—"
She moans—loud.
The windows fog, the air thick with heat and sweat. I grab her waist and start to thrust up into her. My hips slam into her with every stroke, the sound wet and sharp, echoing in the tight cabin.
The car rocks on its suspension.
She cries out—hands flying to the dashboard, then the window, scrambling for something to hold as I fuck her from underneath, driving into her again and again.
Her pussy clenches, slick and tight, dripping all over me as I pump up into her.
“Ride me,” I growl, sweat dripping down my neck. “Fucking take it.”
She moans like she can’t speak—just gasps, whimpers, her head thrown back, her tits bouncing with every thrust as I slam into her over and over.
The car creaks.
The console digs into my spine. And still I keep going. Driving into her like it’s the only way to breathe.
Her cries break into sobs of pleasure, body shaking around me.
Her body starts to tremble on top of me—pussy fluttering, thighs shaking, every inch soaked with sweat and arousal. She's close. I can feel it in the way she gasps, in the way her hips twitch just before she presses them down harder.
But I need more.
I want to see her fall apart from behind.
“Turn around,” I growl, my voice rough in her ear.
