She didn't say a word after the shower—couldn't. Her body was trembling in my arms, soaked and soft and utterly vulnerable, still clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.
I brushed wet hair from her face, lips grazing her temple as I murmured, "Still with me?"
She nodded weakly, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy. "Mhm..."
Good.
Because I wasn't done.
I stepped out of the shower carrying her like she weighed nothing—my cock still buried deep inside her, pulsing with every heartbeat. Her breath hitched at the movement, fingers digging into my skin like they were trying to claim me right back.
We moved from the bathroom into the hallway, every footstep a reminder that this wasn't just a moment. It was a claim.
In front of the full-length mirror hanging by the linen closet, I stopped and pulled her up so she faced her own reflection. The glass was fogged, but through the haze, she saw herself—the flushed cheeks, the wet skin, the lips slightly parted as if still tasting me.
She moaned, breathy and broken. "Oh my God..."
"You're still full of me," I whispered, voice thick with promise. "And we're not even halfway done."
Without waiting, I lifted her again and carried her across the living room, setting her down on the plush couch.
She looked up at me—dazed and dripping, body glowing with steam and heat and raw want.
"Turn over," I ordered softly.
Her legs trembled as she shifted onto her knees, bracing herself on the cushions, ass high in the air, bare and red from my touch.
I stepped behind her, hand gripping her hip while the other traced the curve of her spine, fingertips slick with water and skin.
"I want your neighbors to hear the words your husband never could make you say," I growled, and slammed into her hard.
She cried out, arching like I'd sparked fire inside her.
"Ahhh—Peter—fuck—yes—deeper—please!"
Her moans filled the room, loud and unfiltered.
I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back on me with every powerful thrust, watching her melt in real time.
Then, suddenly, I pulled out.
"Dining table. Now," I ordered.
She stumbled toward the kitchen, legs shaky, eyes wild. I caught her halfway, lifted her, and laid her across the smooth wood like a sacrifice. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, lips trembling with need. I spread her legs and leaned down, brushing my cock against her wet heat.
"Ready?"
Her nod was breathless.
I slid in slow, deep, savoring every inch.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
"Peter...oh fuck..."
I pinned her wrist above her head.
"You said you needed to feel wanted. You're gonna feel it in every room."
I climbed on top of her, sliding between her thighs again, my cock brushing along her soaked slit. She whimpered, hips twitching up to meet me, needy and raw.
"You want it?" I asked, dragging the tip along her folds, teasing her entrance, watching the way her whole body arched in desperation.
She nodded fast, eyes wide and shimmering.
"Use your words, baby."
"Yes—Peter, please—I need you inside me," she gasped.
That's all I needed.
I slammed into her in one slow, brutal thrust.
Schlk.
The sound of it echoed in the quiet bedroom—wet, messy, obscene.
She cried out, legs wrapping around my waist like she was trying to pull me deeper, her hands clawing at my back.
I started to move, hips rolling hard and slow, cock dragging along every inch of her tight heat.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Skin against skin. That delicious, rhythmic sound of possession.
Her tits bounced with every thrust, mouth open in a silent scream before the next moan punched out of her.
"Fuuuck—Peter—yes—God—don't stop!"
"Louder," I growled, fucking into her harder, deeper. "I want the whole damn street to know who's making you feel like this."
She couldn't speak. Only moan. Loud. Unrestrained.
I grabbed her thighs and pushed them up, folding her nearly in half, giving me even deeper access.
Clapclapclap.
Each stroke was a full, wet plunge. Her soaked pussy clung to me like it didn't want to let go, like it had memorized my shape already.
I leaned over her, chest brushing her nipples, forehead pressed to hers.
"You feel that?" I whispered. "That's mine."
She moaned, voice high and cracked, hips grinding back in rhythm.
"I'm gonna come—fuck—Peter, I'm gonna—"
"Do it," I ordered, slamming into her with no mercy now. "Cream on my cock, baby."
Her whole body tensed—back arched, lips parted in a breathless scream.
And she snapped.
Her pussy tightened like a vice, pulsing around me, coating me in heat as she cried out, shaking beneath me.
I didn't stop. I fucked her through it, through the spasms and sobs and gasps, riding the wave with her, letting her feel every second of being ruined.
I pulled out slow, her juices dripping down my shaft, and slapped her inner thigh lightly.
"Turn over."
She rolled weakly, face pressed into the mattress, ass raised—still twitching.
"Good girl," I murmured, grabbing her hips. I slid back in from behind, and the noise that escaped her—broken, high-pitched, messy—nearly made me lose it.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Her ass rippled with every impact, my grip tightening on her waist, sweat dripping from my chest onto her back.
The room was filled with sound—our skin slapping, her whimpers, the slick, wet shlk-shlk of my cock moving in and out of her dripping core.
"You hear that?" I growled. "That's what being wanted sounds like."
She moaned so loud I swore the windows rattled.
I pulled out slow, letting my body rest against hers for a heartbeat before I grabbed her trembling waist and lifted her up.
"Study. Now," I commanded, voice low and hard.
Her legs wobbled but she didn't argue. I carried her like she weighed nothing, hips pressed flush against mine, breath hitching with every step.
The door to the study swung open, warm and inviting, smelling like leather and old books.
I set her down on the heavy wooden desk—no softness here. Just cold, solid authority.
She looked up at me, eyes wide and wild, lips swollen and parted like she was already begging for more.
I didn't waste a second.
One hand pinned her wrists above her head, the other slid under her, gripping her ass tight.
I slammed into her hard—wet, deep, and loud.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The sound echoed off the walls, mingling with her gasps and high, desperate moans.
She tried to arch away, but I held her fast, pressing her down onto the desk like she belonged to me.
"You're mine," I growled, voice rough and possessive.
Her fingers dug into the wood, nails leaving scratch marks as I fucked her with slow, punishing strokes.
Her breath hitched, chest heaving. "Peter... harder... please..."
I didn't need to be told twice.
I slammed into her deeper, hips driving forward, cock hitting every spot that made her see stars.
Her moans turned frantic—raw, uncontrolled, soaked with need.
The desk creaked under our weight, a sharp contrast to the soft cries filling the room.
"Say it," I demanded, pulling her face toward mine.
"Y-yes," she gasped, voice trembling. "I'm yours."
"Louder."
"I'm yours, Peter. All yours."
I kissed her hard, tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting the desperation and want she couldn't hide.
Then I pulled back, eyes dark with hunger.
"We're not done," I promised, sliding my hips once more, deeper and faster.
Her body trembled beneath me, caught between pleasure and surrender.
The study was witness to everything—the wet sounds of skin meeting skin, the desperate gasps, the whispered confessions, and the unrelenting power of two bodies colliding.
Her body was slick with sweat, glistening under the study's soft golden light, her legs trembling around my waist as I kept drilling into her—deep, slow strokes that made her eyes roll back every time I bottomed out.
Clap.Clap.Clap.