SexArt - Episode 4

Lucas stands behind me, breathing against my neck. He drags his fingers up the inside of my thigh, slow, like he wants me to feel every inch of skin he claims. I spread wider. The sheets catch under my knees as he pushes two fingers inside me without asking. My mouth falls open. No sound at first—just that sudden stretch, that slick heat around his knuckles. He curls them, finds the spot that makes my back arch, and I gasp. He laughs low in his throat, pleased with himself. I reach back and grab his wrist, push him deeper. He adds another finger. The wet sound of it fills the room. My hips roll back to meet him, greedy. When he pulls out I whine, but he’s already lining up his cock, thick and hot against my entrance. He doesn’t tease. He sinks in all at once, bottoming out so hard my breath punches out of me. One hand grips my hip; the other slides up to my breast, pinching my nipple until I moan his name. He fucks me like he owns the angle. Deep, steady strokes that make my thighs shake. Every thrust knocks a filthy little noise out of my throat. I push back harder, chasing it, and he answers by yanking my hair, pulling my head back until I’m arched like a bow. Sweat slides down my spine. His balls slap my clit on every stroke and the pressure coils tight, unbearable. "Come," he says, voice rough. I do—clenching around him, cunt pulsing, mouth open on a silent cry. He keeps fucking me through it, dragging it out until my arms give and I drop to my elbows. Then he grabs both hips and slams in one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside me. I feel every throb, every hot pulse. We stay locked like that, breathing hard, until he finally pulls out and I feel his come slide down my thigh.