He squirts lube straight onto my asshole, works two thick fingers in first, scissoring, stretching. I push back, desperate. Then the blunt head of the dildo presses against my rim.
“Breathe out,” he commands. “Let it in.”
I do, and he pushes—slow, steady, relentless. The stretch burns so good I moan into the pillow. Inch after inch sinks into my ass until the base is flush and I’m stuffed in both holes even though my pussy is still empty and clenching around nothing.
“Fuck, Salem. Your ass is gripping this toy so tight. Can feel it through the wall—thick and hard.” He slaps my ass hard, then rubs the sting. “Now you’re gonna take my cock in that dripping pussy. Gonna feel me fuck you while this dildo wrecks your ass.”
He lines up, notches the fat head of his cock at my pussy, and slams in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
I scream. The fullness is insane—his thick cock stretching my pussy, the rigid dildo filling my ass, separated by nothing but a thin wall. I can feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “So goddamn tight. Both holes stuffed full for me. You feel that, baby? Feel how deep I am?”
He starts moving—slow at first, pulling his cock almost all the way out, then driving back in while the dildo stays buried in my ass. The dual sensation is overwhelming. Every thrust makes the toy shift inside me, rubbing against his cock through the wall. I’m drooling into the pillow, moaning nonstop.
He picks up speed, fucking me harder, the wet slap of his hips against my ass loud and obscene. “That’s it—take it. Take my cock and this fat fake dick like the greedy slut you were born to be. Listen to how sloppy your cunt is—gushing all over me.”
He reaches under me, finds my clit, rubs it fast. “Gonna make you come again. Gonna feel this pussy clamp down on me while your ass milks the toy. Come on, Salem—milk my cock.”
I come so hard my vision whites out. My whole body locks, squirting again, soaking his balls, his thighs. He fucks me through it, relentless, growling filth the whole time.
“Fuck yes—good girl. Such a good fucking girl. Look at you creaming all over me. Gonna fill this pussy again. Gonna pump so much cum into you it’ll be dripping out for days.”
He grabs the base of the dildo and starts fucking my ass with it in time with his cock—alternating thrusts, then both at once,double-stuffing me over and over. I’m babbling, crying, coming again in a rolling wave that doesn’t stop.
“Gonna come,” he grits out. “Gonna flood this cunt while your ass is stuffed. You want that?”
“Yes—please—fill me?—”
He roars, slams deep, and comes hard. I feel every hot pulse, every spurt as he fills me to overflowing. His cock twitches inside me, the dildo still buried in my ass, and I come one last time—smaller, shaking, completely wrecked.
He stays buried for a long minute, both of us panting, bodies slick with sweat. Slowly he eases the dildo out of my ass, then pulls his cock free. Cum gushes out of me immediately—thick, white, obscene. He groans at the sight.
“Jesus, baby. Look at the mess we made.”
He collapses beside me, pulls me into his chest, and kisses me slow and deep, like he’s pouring every ounce of feeling into it. His hand strokes down my back, gentle now, soothing the places he gripped too hard.
I’m floating, boneless, utterly used and utterly loved.
“Water?” he murmurs against my hair, voice soft again.
I laugh, weak and happy. “Too late. I think I need a shower first.”
He chuckles, low and warm, and tightens his arms around me. “Shower later. Right now you’re staying right here, full of me, while I hold you.”
I close my eyes, press my face into his chest, and let the afterglow wrap around us like a blanket.
For the first time in forever, the world outside the safehouse doesn’t exist.
There’s only this—his heartbeat, his cum leaking out of me, and the filthy, perfect promise of everything we’re going to do to each other next.
EIGHTEEN
OZZY
The next morning comes soft and slow, sunlight filtering through the slats in the blinds like it’s trying not to disturb us. I wake before she does, and for a long minute I just lie there, letting the weight of her settle against me. Salem’s curled into my side, one leg hooked over mine, her cheek pressed to my chest. Her breathing is deep, even, the kind of sleep that only comes after your body’s been completely wrung out. I can still smell us on her skin: salt, sex, the faint sweetness of her arousal that hasn’t quite faded even after we passed out tangled together.
My arm’s numb where it’s pinned under her shoulders, but I don’t move. I watch the slow rise and fall of her ribs, the way her lashes flutter against her cheeks every few breaths like she’s dreaming something gentle. Last night was filthy—raw, desperate, the kind of fucking that leaves marks and memories—but right now she looks fragile in the best way. Like something precious I’m allowed to hold.