Page 62 of Dirty Lyrics
Fuck.
She milks me, squeezing, spasming, pulling me deeper, and I can’t hold back even if I wanted to.
I drive into her harder, brutal, claiming every inch of her while she shakes apart in my arms.
Her nails rake down my back, her cries breaking, raw, and it only pushes me closer, closer.
“Maya!”
The roar rips out of me as I slam one last time, burying myself to the hilt.
My balls draw tight, my whole body locks, and then I’m spilling inside her, pulse after pulse of heat flooding her sweet pussy.
I hold her crushed to me, my forehead pressed to hers, our sweat mingling, my teeth gritted so hard my jaw aches.
Her body writhes against mine, still trembling through the aftershocks, and I can feel every flutter of her pussy around my cock, milking me for all I’ve got.
I don’t stop.
I grind into her, keep myself as deep as I can, because I don’t ever want to leave her body.
This tight, perfect fit—it’s perfect. It’s home.
“Mine,” I growl against her lips, again and again, as if the word itself brands her. “My wife. My Songbird. My forever.”
She whimpers, clinging to me, and the sound rips me wide open, because it’s not just sex—it’s everything.
It’s possession and worship and obsession, all tangled into one truth:
I’ll never let her go.
The world can burn. The industry can chew me up. But Maya?
She’s mine.
And with her pussy still gripping my cock like she was made for me, with my seed buried deep inside her, with her voice broken on my name, I know she’ll never forget it.
Neither will I.
She is my focus. My purpose.
The rest of the world is just a blur.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears, my cock still buried deep in her, my arms locked around her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.
And maybe she is.
Because the truth? I’m not built for this kind of love. I’m not built for softness, for purity, for something that makes me feel whole.
I grew up scraping, bleeding, clawing through life. People took what they wanted from me, spat on me, left me hungry and broken.
I built myself from nothing, fueled by spite, by hunger, by rage. I thought that’s all I’d ever be—hot temper and pure feeling in human skin.
And then came Maya.
My wife. My Songbird. My miracle.
She has no idea how fucking deep this runs. How bad it is inside me. How much I need her.
