Page 32 of Dirty Lyrics
He drags the head of his cock through my slick folds, teasing, coating himself, and I nearly sob with need.
“Fuck, please?—”
“Please what?” His voice is rough velvet. “Please fuck you? Please ruin this tight little pussy again? Or please make you mine all over?”
“All of it,” I gasp, my nails biting into his shoulders. “All of it, Rico. Please.”
And then he thrusts inside, slow but relentless, and my cry echoes through the room.
“Fuck, Maya,” he grits out, his forehead pressing to mine, sweat already breaking. “So tight. Always so goddamn tight. Like your body knows who owns it.”
I whimper, wrapping my legs around his waist, taking him deeper, my walls clenching around him like I never want to let go.
He fucks me with purpose—hard, deep strokes that leave me gasping, every thrust staking a claim.
His words burn against my skin, dirty and hot, filth and devotion all tangled together.
“You’re mine, Maya. Always were, always will be. Nobody else touches you. Nobody else gets to see you like this. Say it.”
“I’m yours!” I cry out, arching as he pounds me harder. “Oh God, Rico, I’m yours!”
His lips crush mine, swallowing my moans, his tongue claiming me the same way his cock does.
He breaks away only to whisper against my lips, voice wrecked.
“My wife. My Songbird. Carrying my baby. And I’m never letting you go. Never again.”
The words push me over the edge. My orgasm slams through me, sharp and blinding, my body convulsing around him.
He snarls, the sound feral, and drives into me with savage intent.
“That’s it, come on my cock, Mami. Milk me. Show me who you belong to.”
I shatter, screaming his name, every nerve alight.
And when he follows, spilling inside me with a guttural roar, his arms lock tight around me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish again.
When it’s over, when the world tilts back into place, I realize I’m crying.
“Shhh. I got you,” he whispers, holding me tight, but his breaths sound hitched too.
Because between the filthy words and the desperate claiming, the truth is there, undeniable.
We’re still us.
Broken. Raw.
But still us.
chapter 14-rico
I should be up already. I’ve got calls to make, meetings to dodge, and fires to put out.
But Maya’s curled in my bed, tangled in my sheets, and I can’t make myself move.
Her hair is a dark spill across my pillow, her lips parted, her body still marked with the places I kissed and bit this morning when I woke up to her plump ass pressed against me.
That she let me touch her, kiss her, have her?
