Claimed Series

Filthy

Ava Pov::

I fight the instinct to fold my hands over my body and protect myself. This is what I wanted, right? To evoke some response in the man I agreed to spend the rest of my life with. He looks at me with a dark emotion in his green eyes, and I don’t know if he wants to fuck me or leave me for good.

“Go to bed, and get on all fours,” he says, his voice dropping an octave like he’s about to lose control.

A thrill of excitement runs through me, sensitizing me from head to toe. I follow his lead, and climb on the king-sized bed, assuming the doggie style position. The AC kicks in, a cold draft caressing my skin and causing goose bumps on my arms. I hear him moving about in the room, and pick up the bag I brought. Hhmm… I clear my throat, adamant on giving him the power he needs. It’s what this is all about, isn’t it?

He nudges my cheeks apart, and his touch ignites a fire in my belly. Unlike other times, he doesn’t try to seductively coax me into opening my legs for him. He’s taking, and soon rubs the tip of his massive cock into my already drenching folds. I shouldn’t be wet with such poor foreplay, but desire has been simmering in my blood, latent, lurking.

“You little slut,” he says gravelly.

I don’t know if he’s insulting me as part of game or because deep down he still doesn’t forgive me for what I did. But it doesn’t matter, a fresh coat of cream slides down my folds, and I clear my throat, aroused and intrigued. He never called me any names of this nature before—will our relationship shift after tonight?

He swaps my ass, his hand strong and heavy, branding my skin. I yelp, surprised, and look behind my shoulder to see him studying my ass, with a glint of dark desire in his green eyes. “I barely touch you, and you’re already soaking wet. Your cunt is drenched in cream, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes.”

“Doesn’t take you long.”

“Does that mean I’m not a challenge anymore? Because I come easily?” I say, with a pang of amusement, desperate to dispel from the tension clawing into my throat.

He circles my other cheek with his hand, warming my skin, sending a thrill of delightful sensations through me. “Nah. You’re still a challenge, my little slut.”

The insult pierces through me, and I can almost taste the bitterness in his voice. I shouldn’t find any pleasure in this… demeaning approach, but my nipples are hard, aching for his attention as a hot stir forms in my breast. My pussy tingles, inner walls throbbing for release. It’s been too long.

The rush of blood makes me lightheaded.

He delivers another smack to my ass, and I jerk forward, but he quickly pins me back to the original position on all fours. A hot wave spreads across my behind, a mix of ache with excitement. This is… unexpected, and I want more of it even if I don’t completely understand my emotions.

He smacks my butt again.

Once. Twice. The more he does it, the warmer my skin feels, the more sensitized it becomes. My cream is dripping down my thighs, and I try to keep facing forward, focusing on the carved pattern of the dark oak bed frame.

He slides his fingers into my pussy, and I moan. God. He knows exactly what I like, and shows it—teasing my folds with his digits, then quickly inserting three fingers into my cunt. I clench my thighs around his hand, desperate to trap him there until I come. He motions to move, and I undulate my hips. He once said he loves how I work my ass, swaying it, and I’ll do anything to get him aroused and ready to fuck me.

“Jack…”

He jerks his hand out of me, and replaces it with his big dick, thrusting it inside me hard, quick and deep.

deep. I inhale, trying to adjust to his large size. When I slowly exhale, I let my inner walls cling to his meat, every part of me wanting this amazing man back in my life. Back to the way it should be.

He holds the sides of my waist, and fucks me relentlessly, ramming into my cunt with precise thrusts. The sound of his skin slapping mine slices through the air. I nearly lose my balance, but mentally brace myself. Maybe this is how he’s going to process what happened—through sex.

“You like me fucking you like this, don’t you? Splitting your naughty cunt in two.”

“Yes,” I hiss.

He withdraws from my pussy, a cold draft replacing the warmth of his dick. The sudden removal makes me tremble, confused. Then, he dips his fingers into my pussy again, coating his fingers with my cream. I soften, mellowing, rocking my fingers into his hips. Ripples of anticipation travel through me. I want him inside me again—crave him the way I never thought possible. My heart skips a beat or two, and I give a long-winded moan.

He parts my folds, then teases my clit, already throbbing. I’m close, on the brink of an orgasm, and perhaps he senses that, because he groans, then withdraws his fingers from my pussy abruptly. Of course—this is part of the punishment. I’m coming under his command.

Groaning, he withdraws his fingers, and I feel him touching my ass again, his digits damp with my essence.

He palms the area between my cheeks. He uses my cream on his fingers to lubricate my hole, taking his fingers inside, teasing me, touching the rim. I moan. We’ve had anal sex several times in the past, and he taught me to enjoy it, even crave for it. But usually he took me out, played with my ass, and dropped hints throughout the evening.

This is unplanned. But the anticipation for sex has gotten the best of me, and a surge of arousal moves through me. I clutch the sheets, anticipating the pain and the pleasure—unsure about which one I welcome first.