Page 36 of Hidden Desires

I can only nod, lips parted, already desperate for him.

He slips two fingers inside, finding me slick and pulsing. “God, you’re so fucking tight and wet,” he says, and the words vibrate all the way up my spine. “Goddamn.”

My eyes flutter shut as he works me, slow at first, then faster, thumb circling my clit until I’m whimpering, clutching at his head for balance. The noises are obscene. There are wet sucking sounds as he rattles his fingers in my cunt, going faster and faster, with my juices dripping all over the foyer floor. I want to last, I want to savor it, but my body has other plans. I tip over the edge, crying out his name, my whole body shuddering as the orgasm rips through me, quick and brutal.

“Jack!” I scream, my head tipping back with feminine pleasure. “Unnnh, yes!”

He continues shaking his fingers in my cunt, watching avidly as the plush folds clamp around his hand.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans. “Shit, you’re responsive.”

When my shaking’s stopped somewhat, he pulls his soaked fingers from my pussy and then stands, before lifting them to his mouth and sucking the nectar from his digits. His blue eyes gleam as I watch him, shocked and yet thrilled by his dirty ways. Then the man smirks and bends to kiss me until I taste myself on his lips. But I want him to experience pleasure too, and pull away for a moment.

“Now it’s your turn,” I whisper, reaching for his fly, but Jack shakes his head.

“Not yet. I want to fuck you first.”

He pulls me up, bends me over the bench, yanks my panties down, and lines himself up without ceremony. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, and I brace myself, still sensitive and raw. He pushes in, slow but relentless, splitting me open inch by inch until I’m full of him.

“Unnnh!” I squeal helplessly, lifted off my toes by his massive size. “Oh god!”

“You’re doing good,” Jack rasps, panting already. “Fuck you’re so tight and wet.”

He sets a hand at the small of my back, pinning me in place, and starts to move—long, deep strokes that make my toes curl. The sound is obscene: wet, heavy, punctuated by my gasps and the slap of skin on skin. He fucks me like he’s been starving for days, every thrust a promise and a demand.

“You like that, baby?” he grunts, gripping my blonde locks in his fist.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper, the words torn from me by pleasure. “It feels so good!”

“I know, sweetheart, because you have a slutty cunt that only Daddy’s deep fuckings can satisfy. Isn’t that right, Eliza? This wet pussy craves big dick.”

I can’t answer as he pounds harder, faster, my body singing with sensation. I’m close again, the heat building with every slap of his hips. Jack knows exactly what he’s doing; he pulls me up, one arm around my waist, and reaches down to rub my clit while he keeps thrusting. The double stimulation is too much and I come again, seeing stars as I scream to the Heavens, my pussy clenching so hard it almost pushes him out.

He holds on, fucking me through it, until he groans and shudders, his penis reaching deep inside. Then Jack explodes, shooting hot jizz inside me.

“Fuck!” he roars. “Oh shit shit shit!”

The feeling of him, pulsing and raw, sends aftershocks through my body as I’m pumped with gallons of hot, virile semen.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans again, still pumping. “Oh shit.”

I mewl with pleasure, my pussy convulsing around that hard shaft, milking it for every last drop. I love how Jack makes me feel, so taken, feminine, and filled with his virility. I’m utterly satisfied, and mewl again, my head dropping from my shoulders. For a second, we just stand there, bent over and panting, clinging to each other. Then he kisses my temple, gentle now, and helps me upright.

“Jesus, Jack,” I say, pulling my skirt down, “are you trying to kill me?”

He laughs, that low, rumbling sound I crave. “You’re a tough cookie, sweetheart. You can handle my massive size.”

I want to say something clever, but all I can do is smile, sweaty and sated, high on endorphins and the realization that this is my life now—this man, his massive body, and this need. I’ve never felt more alive.

Jack gives me a minute to catch my breath, then takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen. I know it well now, but I still adore the masculinity of the space. There are massive stainless steel appliances and granite countertops, and the fridge is covered in magnets—Air Force bases, Machu Picchu, a few with dirty jokes. There’s even a photo of a much younger Jack standing next to a fighter jet, grinning with reckless abandon, and I love it.

“You still want steak?” he asks, pulling two thick ribeyes from the fridge.

“God, yes,” I say, “but I also want to shower first. I’m a mess.”

He eyes me, a sly grin curling his lips. “You look perfect to me, sweetheart, but if you want to freshen up, go for it. I’ll set the table.”

I skip up the stairs and into his bathroom before splashing cold water on my face. I stare at my reflection for a beat. I look wild—cheeks flushed, blonde locks disheveled, lips swollen. I look like a woman who’s been thoroughly, spectacularly fucked, and I love it.