Cought Red-Handed IV
792 Words
He didn’t stop. Not when my legs trembled. Not when my nails dug into his shoulders, clinging like I was drowning. He just held me tighter, f****d up into me harder, using my soaked, spent p***y like it was still his to ruin.
Because it was.
“You think I’m done with you?” he whispered, lips brushing my jaw, breath hot and dangerous. “You’re not even close to finished.”
“I—I can’t,” I whimpered, my voice breaking.
“Yes, you f*****g can.”
He grabbed my hips and lifted me, just enough to slam me back down on his c**k. Over and over. My p***y, slick and swollen, wrapped around him like it didn’t care I was spent, like it was made to take this, to take him.
“You feel that?” he rasped. “You’re dripping all over me. This is what you wanted. What you begged for. A c**k to f**k you stupid.”
I nodded helplessly, forehead pressed to his shoulder, my body jerking with every punishing thrust.
“You don’t even know your own name right now, do you?”
“No, sir,” I moaned, the heat building again—too fast, too much. “Just yours.”
He growled low in his throat, one hand sliding up my back to grip the nape of my neck, forcing me to look at him.
“Look at me when I come inside you.”
My eyes fluttered open, dazed and f****d-out. His face was wild—eyes burning, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his temple as he thrust up again, harder than before.
“f*****g take it,” he growled.
“I want it,” I whispered. “I want all of it—come inside me, please—please—”
My words triggered something in him.
He let out a rough, broken sound and slammed into me, staying buried deep. His c**k pulsed inside me, thick spurts filling me so warm, so deep I felt it in my belly.
He didn’t stop moving, even then.
Just slow, deep thrusts as he emptied everything inside me.
I collapsed against him, limp, shaking, breathing fast and shallow while his hands traced over my back. Possessive. Gentle now—but only because he’d already taken everything.
He kissed the side of my neck, slow and lazy.
“Next time,” he murmured, voice low and full of threat, “you won’t even get to use the desk.”
My breath caught.
I was still full of him. Still soaked. Still trembling.
And already wanting more.
His c**k was still inside me, twitching, softening but he didn’t let me move. One arm wrapped tight around my waist, holding me there like I was part of him now. Like pulling away wasn’t an option.
And maybe it wasn’t.
I could feel it his c*m leaking out of me, dripping down my thighs, hot and messy. Marking me. My legs were numb, body spent, mind blank in that sweet, blissed-out haze where nothing mattered except the way he touched me.
He dragged his fingers up the back of my thigh, then between my cheeks, spreading me just slightly.
I jolted.
“Still twitching,” he said, voice dark with satisfaction. “Still f*****g sensitive.”
“I—I can’t take more,” I whispered, not even convincing myself.
He laughed softly against my neck, the sound wicked.
“Oh, you will. You’re mine, remember?”
His fingers dipped lower, smearing the mess between my thighs like he wanted me to feel exactly how full I was.
“You’re dripping all over my seat,” he muttered. “So filthy.”
I shivered.
“I should make you sit in that mess all class long. Let everyone wonder why you can’t cross your legs. Why you keep squirming in your seat.”
I whimpered, clenching without meaning to.
He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back just enough to kiss me—deep, rough, tongue f*****g into my mouth like it belonged there.
When he pulled away, his eyes were still locked on mine. “You’re going to get on your knees again.”
I blinked. “Wha now?”
“Yes. Right f*****g now.”
He lifted me off his lap, letting me feel every inch of him slide out, and I nearly collapsed. My knees hit the floor before I could think, my hands resting on his thighs, my lips parted without instruction.
“You don’t stop until I’m hard again,” he said, stroking himself, already halfway there. “And then you’re going to bend over that desk one last time.”
My eyes fluttered closed.
And I opened my mouth.
- Writer
