Chapter 230- Slamming Harder
She gasped — sharp, ragged, the sound punched out of her lungs like something had physically knocked it loose.
Her eyes flew wide open, locking directly onto his face hovering above hers, close enough that she could feel the slow heat rolling off his skin.
Her hands were still half-clamped over her mouth from the aftershocks of that shattering orgasm, trembling against her lips, wet from her own tears, but they slid away now — slowly, uselessly — as her brain tried to catch up with what her body had already understood.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
The words scraped out breathy and cracked, almost disbelieving, her voice the voice of someone who’d woken from a dream only to find it had teeth and weight and heat and was still very much wrapped around her entire body.
Cruxius’s smirk deepened — lazy, unhurried, like a man who had all the time and all the power in the world — as he kept his thick cock nestled hot and obscenely heavy between her soaked folds, the fat flushed head nudging her entrance with every subtle rock of his hips.
"Fingering you," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the kind of voice that dragged along skin like gravel wrapped in warm cloth.
His fingers — still glistening slick with her release — traced a slow, maddening circle around her clit, and her hips bucked forward involuntarily, her thighs snapping inward before she even processed the motion.
"And you came so fucking prettily for me, Jenny."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes dark and drinking her in, watching the flush crawl down her neck. "Thalia was right. You really are a bitch."
The words hit somewhere she wasn’t ready for.
That warm, humiliating bloom low in her belly — she felt it spread like ink in water, immediate and helpless, her body registering the insult as something else entirely before her mind could argue otherwise.
She trembled beneath him, every inch of skin flushing hotter, her full breasts rising and falling rapidly with each too-shallow breath, nipples stiff and aching, still raw from his mouth, bite marks blooming dark and bruise-soft across their heavy curves.
"Wait — wait, wait —" she stammered, trying to push herself up on her elbows, her yellow pyjamas long gone, her body completely bare and glistening under the lamplight like something unwrapped and offered.
He simply pinched one nipple between thumb and forefinger and twisted.
The sharp bloom of pleasure-pain ripped a helpless cry from her throat before she could swallow it, and her back arched clean off the mattress, heavy breasts jiggling with the force of the motion, the bitten skin pulling taut.
"Hey, Jenny." He leaned in close, breath hot and deliberate against her ear, his cock twitching and thickening even more against her dripping, swollen folds. "Aren’t you hot?"
He was right there.
The crush she’d nursed for months — quiet, shameful, locked in the back of her chest during every dinner they’d shared, every time she’d watched him laugh with Thalia — crashed over her now like a cold wave through a lit room.
Her lips parted, trembling, eyes moving helplessly down the hard length of him — every muscle gleaming, not an inch of him soft or hesitant.
"Why... why are you naked?" The question came out reverent, voice small and shaking, her thighs pressing together around nothing.
Cruxius chuckled — deep, dark, the sound unhurried — and rocked his hips once, letting the thick head of his cock drag slow and deliberate up through her slick folds, parting them just enough to make her breath catch in her throat.
"I wanted to bang you the same way I banged your sister."
She trembled violently.
A fresh, involuntary rush flooded against his shaft — her own body, already ruined, already decided — and she hated it and needed it and couldn’t stop either.
"No, I just —" she started, lips quivering, hands fluttering to his chest — not quite pushing, not quite pulling, just resting there like frightened birds. "I don’t —"
The words dissolved into a soft, broken whimper.
He watched her carefully, eyes going dark and slow with hunger.
Then he sat back on his heels, cock standing thick and proud between them, veins tracing the length of the shaft, the head flushed deep crimson and impossibly wide, and he did nothing — just let her look.
"Where’d your clothes go?" she whispered, voice cracking, eyes darting uselessly around the rumpled sheets.
"Just unwrapping my gift."
He reached down and gave her left breast a slow, possessive squeeze, watching soft flesh spill between his fingers, nipple hardening tighter against his palm, the casual ownership of it leaving her shaking harder.
"Listen — it’s wrong," she managed, trying to sit up, voice trembling. "I don’t— I can’t—"
"But weren’t you the one who wanted to spread your legs in place of Thalia?"
The words landed like an open palm. Her eyes went wide, mortified, her mouth dropping open.
"But how do you know?" she gasped — and clapped both hands over her mouth the second the confession slipped free, cheeks burning so hot she felt her eyes water.
Cruxius laughed softly — low, warm — and leaned down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to her forehead, lips lingering for one quiet second.
"Doesn’t matter how."
Then he hooked both her thighs over his elbows, lifting her hips off the bed in one smooth motion, opening her completely, her wet pussy exposed and glistening under the light with nothing to hide behind.
"Come on. Be a good girl."
"No — I don’t — I can’t — how I —" Her voice was pure tremor now, every word soaked through with equal parts panic and want, her hands pushing weakly at his shoulders.
He twisted her — effortless, one motion — hips flipping, body rolling like she weighed nothing.
Her heavy breasts swung wildly with the motion, slapping together with a soft wet sound as she landed face-down on the mattress, the sudden cold of the sheets against her nipples ripping a sharp gasp from her.
She didn’t even have time to scramble.
Her back arched involuntarily, ass raised high, hips tilted up in the exact pose she’d have died before choosing herself — and her body didn’t care, because it already knew.
He yanked her hips back toward him, knees spreading her thighs, and she felt it immediately — the blunt, scorching pressure of his cock head rubbing slow and deliberate against her puffy, soaked pussy lips, pressing, not yet entering, just reminding her it was there.
"You’re acting like a virgin," he growled, voice thick with amusement. "Come on, woman."
She reached back frantically, palm flat against his abs, shaking. "Wait—"
He grabbed her wrist like a handle.
Pinned it to the small of her back.
And thrust.
PAH!
Her entire body lurched forward, the wet flesh-crack of his hips slamming her ass echoing off the walls, brutal and loud, as his thick cock plunged inside her in one savage stroke, splitting her open from zero to the hilt.
"AAANGHH~~!!"
It tore through her.
Not like Jake — nothing like Jake — Jake was something she could understand, something that fit, something that was there and gone and left her feeling normal. This was different. This stretched things inside her she hadn’t known existed.
Her vision whited at the edges as the fat head slammed deep against her cervix, her walls forced apart obscenely wide, the fullness so total and sudden that her legs shook and buckled before she could catch herself.
"Oh shit — it’s tight," he groaned above her, the sound raw and deeply satisfied, both hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
He pulled back slow — cruelly, deliberately slow — letting her feel every ridged, thick inch dragging along her fluttering, clenching walls as they tried desperately to keep him inside.
Then he plunged again.
PAH! PAH!