The sheets were soaked—sweat, cum, tears.
Lila lay sprawled across my chest, body limp, bruises glowing in the moonlight. Her breath was shallow, ragged, voice hoarse from screaming.
She whispered, fingers tracing my jaw: "Elias, can I talk to you about something?"
I brushed her damp hair, smiled. "Sure, Darling. What is it?"
She hesitated, biting her swollen lip. "Jennie is hurt, Elias. She's crushed. Give her what she wants. I won't judge you."
The air froze.
I sat up, sheets pooling. "What?"
Lila curled into me, voice soft: "She's my cousin. She's lonely, horny, jealous. You wrecked her pride today. Fuck her. One time. I don't care. I want her to stop hurting."
My blood boils. My chest tightens. She's offering me to another woman. My woman. My Lila. The one I'd kill for. The one I'd die for. She thinks I'd touch Jennie? That I'd want anyone else? She doesn't understand. She's my oxygen. My religion. My everything.
I grabbed her chin, forced her eyes to mine. "I can't, Lila. Everything of me belongs to you. My cock, my hands, my breath—all yours. I can't touch her. Even if you say so."
She blinked, tears welling. "But—"
"No." I growled, voice low, dangerous. "You know, the way you said fuck…Makes me fuck you again. So I'm going to fuck you now."
I flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up. Thrust into her—one savage stroke, ballsdeep. She screamed, face buried in the pillow.
Pounded her relentless, deep, bed creaking. Her ass jiggled, bruises blooming. Yanked her hair, arched her back. She came hard, squirting onto the sheets.
Flipped her, spread her wide. Pounded downward, bruising her cervix. Choked her—pulse racing. Bit her breasts, teeth marks.
Lifted her, slammed her against the wall. Fucked her standing, deep, legs around me. Sucked her neck, new bruises.
Sat on the bed, impaled her. Slammed her down, breasts bouncing. Slapped them—red handprints.
Folded her in half, pounded deep. She came fifth time, squirting, voice gone. I roared, filled her—cum overflowing.
I collapsed, exhausted, fell into deep sleep.
A wet, slithering heat coiled around my cock—foreign, wrong.
My eyes snapped open.
Adrenaline exploded through my veins like lightning. Vision tunneled.
I was naked on the bed, sheets tangled, air thick with sex and chlorine. Jennie—completely naked, skin flushed, breasts heaving—straddled the mattress beside me. Her tongue was sliding up my unaroused dick, slow, deliberate, saliva glistening. Her eyes were glazed, manic, lips curled in a sick smile. My heart detonated. Bile surged up my throat. Rage—whitehot, primal—ignited every nerve.
I ROARED—a guttural, animal sound that shook the walls. I launched off the bed, muscles spasming, cock jerking away from her mouth with a wet pop.
I stumbled, crashed into the dresser, glass shattering. Blood from my knuckles splattered the wall.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" My voice cracked, feral, echoing like gunfire.
Jennie sat back, legs spread, pussy glistening. She threw her head back and laughed—highpitched, unhinged, tears streaming. My vision blurred with rage. My fists clenched—knuckles white, veins bulging. My cock—still soft, betrayed, violated—throbbed with disgust.
Jennie still laughing.
Is she gone mad?