Chapter 142: Two Targets
The pressure was intoxicating—tight, warm, and impossibly consuming. Steve guided his cock in slowly, savoring every second as her tight arse hole stretched to accommodate him.
Slick from the heat of her deepthroat, he moved deeper, inch by aching inch, until he felt her fully wrapped around him.
A guttural sound escaped his throat, raw and involuntary. Fiona gasped, her lips parting as her breath hitched. Her body trembled, and a sharp moan tore from her lips before she clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes squeezing shut in stunned pleasure. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her back arching instinctively as if to draw him in even further.
Steve’s grip tightened on her hips, grounding himself in the feel of her. She was molten beneath his hands, silken and trembling, every nerve drawn tight. He pulled back slowly, the friction nearly maddening, before thrusting his thick length forward again—deeper into her. Fiona shuddered, muffling another cry.
Steve’s hands gripped the generous curves of her hips, his palms clapping firmly against the plush flesh of her ass with every driving thrust. The sound echoed through the room—raw, rhythmic, and primal.
He moved with deliberate control, grinding his teeth as her body gripped him with impossible tightness, pulling him deeper with every glide. The sensation was maddening—flesh yielding and firm, wrapping around him like velvet heat.
His pace built in steady waves, each stroke sinking deeper, fuller. Her body rocked beneath him, accepting him inch by inch, her breath stuttering with every thrust.
Steve’s teeth clenched, his breath hot and ragged, the tension riding his body like a wave. His jaw was damp, lips parted slightly, and the sight before him was enough to drive him wild. Fiona’s hand was still pressed over her mouth, but it couldn’t hide the desperate sounds that slipped out—those soft, broken gasps that made his pulse hammer.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, lashes fluttering as each thrust sent a tremor through her. Her body rocked beneath him, and then—trembling—one of her hands slid upward. Fingers grazed her flushed skin before settling over one of her breasts, full and sensitive. She cupped it tightly, her fingers digging in as if she needed something to hold onto—anything to tether her to the moment.
Her hips pushed back instinctively, matching his rhythm, craving more. She pinched her nipple, hard, and a muffled cry tore through her fingers.
’Oh... oh my god...’ Her thoughts spun, her mind a storm of heat and surrender.