She says my name like I’m a fucking saint. “Ford…”
Barely a whisper, but I hear it. Every syllable. Every breathless note. It's not just my name; it’s a confession, a challenge, a plea she doesn’t even realize she’s making.
I look up at her from between her thighs, and fuck me, the sight of her already falling apart has me feral.
Sienna’s head tips back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open. She's wrecked and I’ve barely touched her.
I run my tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up her center, savoring the way she shudders beneath me.
She tastes like sin. Like something I’ll never get enough of.
I grip her thighs tighter, anchoring her to me when her hips jerk. She’s so responsive, too much for her own good. Part of me wants to tease her until she’s begging for mercy.
The other part, the darker one, wants to break her completely.
Show her what she’s done to me with every look, every stretch of those gymnast thighs, every innocent goddamn smile she didn’t realize was laced with temptation.
My mouth moves slowly, deliberately slow. I want to savor her. Worship her.
Destroy her.
But when her fingers dig into the cushions and she lets out this broken, desperate cry, my control slips. My tongue flicks faster, then deeper, circling her clit with precision born of obsession.
I know her body like I trained it. Like it belongs to me.
She whimpers, hips grinding into my face, and I growl into her. She’s dripping for me, thighs trembling, her body screaming what her mouth still won’t say out loud.
“Ford—God—please,” she gasps.
The sound rips through me.
I slide my hand between us, fingers teasing her entrance, then plunging in—two at once, thick and deep. She chokes on a moan, her muscles clenching around me like a vice. I curl my fingers just right, stroking that spot I know will unravel her.
She’s panting now, wild and close, her entire body trembling under my hands and mouth.
“I’m— Ford, I’m gonna—”
I growl again and suck harder, fingers moving faster, and then she breaks.
Her body convulses, muscles locking as her orgasm rips through her like a goddamn storm. She screams my name, and I feel it—her pleasure crashing into me like a wave I never want to escape.
She’s trembling, gasping, completely undone, and I’ve never seen anything more fucking beautiful in my life.
But I’m not done. Oh no, no, no~
I rise slowly, dragging my mouth up her body—over her hip, her taut stomach, between her breasts. She’s sweat-slick and trembling, the scent of her release all over me. I kiss her throat, then her jaw, then meet her eyes.
“You okay?” I ask, voice rough, reverent. Like she’s something fragile I just broke open.
She laughs, breathless, giddy, and cups my face.
“I will be,” she whispers. “But you’re gonna have to fuck me right now. Because if you don’t, I’m going to combust.”
I grin, my cock straining in my jeans, aching to be inside her. “You’re demanding when you’re wrecked.”
“And you love it.”
Her words are gasoline. My control is ash.
“Oh, baby,” I murmur. “You have no idea how much.”
I kiss her—hard and messy, claiming her mouth the same way I claimed her body. I want her to feel the months of tension, the nights I stared at the ceiling thinking about her, fists clenched, jaw tight, dying to taste what I just did.
“Get on your knees,” I growl.
She blinks, then scrambles onto all fours, her leotard peeled down to her waist, bare ass in the air, thighs still trembling from the orgasm I gave her.
I stand behind her, unfastening my belt. The sound echoes in the silence. My jeans drop, and I wrap a fist around myself, slow, deliberate strokes as I take in the sight of her—ruined, waiting, wanting.
She looks back over her shoulder—and her jaw drops.
“Oh…” Her voice falters. “Are you sure that’s going to fit?”
My lips twist into something dark. I stroke myself once more, letting her see just how hard I am for her.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured, voice like smoke. “You’ll take every inch.”
I stroke myself slowly, deliberately, taking a second just to look at her. Back arched, ass high, her folds slick and swollen from the orgasm I already gave her. My cock is throbbing—thick, hard, leaking—and I’m two seconds from losing it just from watching her try not to beg.
I step forward, grip her hip with one hand—tight, grounding—and guide myself with the other, rubbing the head through her folds, slow and punishing. Her whole body jolts at the contact, her hips twitching like she’s barely hanging on.
“Just relax,” I murmur, voice low, rough. “Take a deep breath. You can handle it.”
She nods into the cushions, but I can feel the tension in her legs, the way she braces.
I push in. Just the tip.
Her gasp nearly breaks me.
She’s tight. So tight it’s almost unbearable, the heat of her wrapped around just the head of my cock like she was made to fit me.
“Shit,” she groans. “You’re huge.”
I chuckle—dark, breathless—as I lean over her, lips brushing her ear. “And I’m not even halfway in, sweetheart.”
Her body shudders. She’s already close again. I can feel it.
I press in deeper, inch by inch, slow and unrelenting until I’m fully inside, hips flush to her ass, buried so deep it’s hard to breathe.
Her moan is broken. “Jesus Christ… you’re—fuck—you’re inside everywhere.”
I grin against her skin, kissing her shoulder, her neck. “Told you.”
And then I start to move.
I set a rhythm that’s brutal from the start—deep, unforgiving, designed to break her open. Each thrust pushes her forward, her hands clawing at the cushions like she’s trying to hold on to something—anything—while I take her apart.
She’s a mess. Whimpering. Shaking. Her breath catches every time I slam back in.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” I growl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back.
“Yes—fuck—yes,” she cries, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open like she’s drunk on me.
I slap her ass—hard. She yelps, a sharp cry that melts into a moan as I feel her clench around me.
“Good girl,” I mutter, driving into her harder. The couch groans beneath us, every thrust louder, filthier. My cock hits so deep I know she feels me in her stomach.
“This what you wanted?” I hiss, biting the curve of her neck. “Wanted your coach to fuck you dumb?”
She nods wildly, barely able to speak, gasping my name. “Yes, yes—God, Ford— I’m so close—”
And then I pull out.
She screams in protest, confused and empty. But I’m already flipping her onto her back, lifting her like she weighs nothing, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist.
Her arms go around my neck, nails digging into my shoulders as my cock slides along her soaked folds again.
“You think it was deep before?” I growl, mouth at her throat. “Watch this.”
I slam into her while standing, and she screams.
The angle is insane—deeper, sharper. Her body seizes around me, her head falling back, back arching, mouth open as I fuck her in the air, each thrust harder, rougher, like I’m trying to bury every part of myself inside her.
I am.
Because she’s mine now. I’m done pretending she’s not.
“Fuck,” I snarl, driving into her with everything I have. “I’m gonna come—fuck—”
She’s shaking, barely holding on. “Ford, please, fill me.”
I almost come right there.
“Say it again,” I growl, losing it.
“Come inside me,” she sobs, eyes wild. “I want it. I want you to fill me up… Please—please—”
I slam into her one last time, grip tightening on her ass as I bury myself deep, and I come—hard—groaning her name, hips jerking as I spill inside her, filling her with everything I’ve been holding back.
And just like that, she comes again, her cunt clenching around me, body convulsing in my arms, screaming my name like a goddamn prayer.
We collapse onto the couch, breathless and wrecked. She’s trembling in my lap, her skin slick, her legs still wrapped around me.
My forehead drops to hers. “I’m not done with you,” I whisper, voice ragged.
She grins, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded.
“Good,” she murmurs. “Because I need more.”