CHAPTER 185: NEXT MORNING II

Julian stood frozen in the doorway, the phone slipping from his limp fingers and clattering loud to the hardwood floor—clack-clack-crash—bouncing once, screen cracking faint.

The sound sliced sharp through the thick, humid air, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered. Coffee splashed hot from the mug in his other hand, dark liquid streaking down his wrinkled shirt, burning faint against his skin, dripping off the hem in fat drops, pooling at his feet like spilled blood that steamed faint in the cool morning.

He twitched hard under the slithering golden light, the skin around it pulling tight. Less than twenty-four hours.

Not even a full damn day since Devon had ripped him apart on stage, stolen his victory, his pride, his everything. And now this.

In his house.

In his bed.

With his wife.

The air reeked—sex and sweat and the sharp, sweet bite of Amara’s jasmine perfume twisted deep with the darker, animal musk of bodies pushed past exhaustion, past reason.

The sheets were soaked, stained, twisted. The headboard scarred from hours of slamming. A silk tie—Julian’s, navy, monogrammed—lay knotted on the floor, forgotten, tangled with a broken high heel, strap snapped, sole scuffed.

The mirror across the room reflected it all, chaos, conquest, them.

Dust motes danced lazy in the sunlight, catching on sweat droplets in the air.

Amara didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow.

Her hips rolled harder, greedy, grinding down on Devon’s thick cock like she was trying to fuse them together, to melt into him.

Her ass bounced high, round, red from slaps, skin glistening with sweat and cum. Her tits swayed heavy and wild, nipples hard as bullets, dark and swollen, bouncing with every thrust.

Her moans spilled louder—filthier—raw and broken and proud, echoing off the walls, rattling the windows.

She locked eyes with Julian, lips parted in a moan that wasn’t fear, wasn’t shame.

It was excitement.

Pure, vicious, glorious joy. Her pupils blown wide, mascara smudged black, cheeks flushed red, hair wild and damp.

"Yes... fuck yes... right there... deeper... give it to me... harder..."

Julian’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound. His hands shook violent, coffee mug trembling, more spilling down his wrist.

His knees buckled faint, like the floor was tilting under him.

He stared at Devon—buried balls-deep in Amara, sweat-slick, muscles flexing hard as he thrust up slow and brutal, cock glistening with her thick cream, veins pulsing, head flushed dark and slick.

Devon met his gaze, calm as death, cruel as sin. Lifted one hand from Amara’s hip, skin sticking faint from sweat.

Gave Julian a lazy, mocking thumbs-up.

Then dropped it back to her breast, pinched her nipple hard—twist—rolled it between rough fingers till she screamed in pleasure, back arching high, pussy clenching visible around his shaft, juices dripping down his balls, pooling on the sheets.

Julian’s face twisted while his breath hitche.

"You... you fucking WHORE!" he roared, voice cracking like cheap glass, raw and ugly, spit flying. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

He slammed the door so hard the frame shuddered, the mirror rattled, a framed wedding photo crashed to the floor—crash—glass shattering into a thousand glittering pieces.

Footsteps thundered down the hall—angry, stumbling, broken—down the stairs, fading into the house like a dying echo, each step heavier, slower, defeated.

Amara laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a chuckle.

A full, throaty, glorious laugh, head thrown back, dark hair whipping wild, sticking to her sweat-slick neck, pussy clenching tight around Devon as she came just from the sound of her husband’s rage.

Her whole body shook with it, tits bouncing hard, juices dripping down Devon’s balls, soaking the sheets, the mattress, the air thick with her scent—sweet and salty and filthy.

Devon’s voice cut through, low and rough, barely above a growl, breath hot against her ear: "Not gonna chase him?"

Amara shook her head hard, still laughing, still riding, hips circling slow and deep, grinding her clit against his base, walls fluttering soft.

"No... fuck no..."

She gasped sharp as Devon thrust up, hard, cockhead slamming deep, stretching her wide. "He’s not going anywhere."

Another thrust, another gasp, her voice breaking. "Probably downstairs crying into his cold coffee, dick soft in his hand.

Or—" she moaned loud, "—or right outside the door, ear pressed to the wood, listening to me moan like a slut for you. Jerking his pathetic little prick to the sound of you owning me."

She leaned down, kissed Devon deep—tongue filthy, sliding wet, teeth biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, tasting copper and cum and sweat and victory.

Pulled back slow, lips shiny, voice dripping venom and honey, breath hot against his mouth.

"Let him listen. Let him hear what a real cock does to his wife. Let him choke on it. Let him drown in it."

Devon flipped her.

She was on her stomach before her laugh finished, face shoved deep into the pillow—smelling of sex and her own perfume—ass yanked high in the air, knees scraping the soaked sheets.

He slammed back in—CRACK—balls slapping her clit so hard she screamed, muffled, pussy gushing instant, hot and thick down her thighs.

One hand fisted tight in her hair, yanking her head back till her neck arched painful, scalp burning sweet.

The other cracked down on her ass—SMACK—again—SMACK—again—SMACK—red handprints blooming bright like brands, skin hot and stinging.

"YES! FUCK! SPANK ME! MARK ME! MAKE ME YOURS! MAKE IT HURT!"

She screamed into the mattress, pushed back hard, met every thrust, pussy sucking him in greedy, walls fluttering wild, juices pouring down her thighs, soaking his balls, the sheets, the air thick with wet slaps and her broken, desperate moans.

The bed creaked loud—springs screaming—headboard slamming the wall—thud-thud-thud—paint chipping faint.

"Harder! Fuck me like you own me! Like I’m your prize! Like I’m your trophy!"

He did.

Pulled out sudden, cock glistening thick with her cream, flipped her to her back, hooked her legs over his shoulders, folded her in half—knees smashed to her tits, pussy exposed, dripping, swollen, wrecked. Drove in deep—deeper—the angle brutal, cockhead slamming her cervix with every thrust, stretching her wide, burning perfect.

The bed frame cracked—wood splintering loud, dust falling faint.

She clawed the headboard, knuckles white, nails scraping paint, leaving gouges, tits bouncing wild, nipples brushing her own knees, voice raw and wrecked.

"YES! RIGHT THERE! FUCK MY CERVIX! BREED ME! MAKE ME CARRY YOUR BABY! FILL MY WOMB!"

He pulled out slow, teasing, let her feel every inch leave her—empty, aching.

Then dragged her to the edge of the bed, stood tall between her thighs, muscles flexing hard in the light. Lifted her hips high, slammed in standing—her back arched off the mattress, legs dangling helpless, toes curling tight, heels scraping air.

He fucked her like a machine—relentless, hips snapping, balls slapping her ass loud and wet—slap-slap-slap—sweat dripping from his chest onto her clit, her stomach, her tits, mixing with her squirt, her cum, his pre-cum.

She came—hard—squirting in a hot, messy arc, soaking his abs, his thighs, the floor, puddles forming shiny on the hardwood.

Screaming his name like a prayer, like a curse, voice echoing off the walls.

"DEVON! FUCK! I’M YOUR SLUT! YOUR WHORE! YOUR BREEDING BITCH! RUIN ME! DESTROY ME!"

He didn’t stop.

Flipped her again—on all fours, face down, ass up high, cheeks spread wide.

One hand snaked under, wrapped around her throat from the front, squeezing just right—breath hitching, vision sparking.

The other rubbed her clit in tight, brutal circles—fast, merciless, fingers slick with her juices.

She sobbed loud, drooled into the pillow, came again—body shaking violent, pussy spasming, squirting down his wrist, his arm, the bed, soaking through the mattress.

"CAN’T—CAN’T STOP COMING—FUCK—YOU’RE DESTROYING ME! I’M YOUR TOY!"

He pulled out slow, let her whine at the loss, then pushed her to the floor—on her knees, carpet burning faint, mouth open wide, tongue out, begging, eyes locked up at him, worshipful and wild, mascara running black down her cheeks.

"Give it to me... down my throat... please... I need it... I’m starving..."

He gripped her hair tight, fucked her mouth—slow, then deep, then brutal. She gagged hard, choked, spit pouring down her chin, her tits, her stomach, pooling on the floor.

Eyes watered, throat working, humming low, sucking greedy, loving every second, nose pressed to his pubes, inhaling deep.

He pulled out sudden, stroked himself fast—once, twice, three times—shot thick ropes into her mouth, on her tongue, down her chin, across her cheeks, dripping hot.

She swallowed hard, moaned loud, rubbed the rest into her tits, her neck, her face like war paint, fingers slick and shiny.

"Fuck yes... so much... love your cum... love being your cumslut... paint me..."

But she wasn’t done.

Crawled back onto the bed on shaky legs, knees sinking into the soaked mattress, pulled him down hard, straddled him reverse—ass to his face, pussy dripping cum and squirt and her own thick juices, lips swollen and red.

She sank down slow, grinding, circling, clit rubbing his base, showing off every inch.

"Look at this ass... all yours... watch it bounce... watch it take you..."

She rode him backward, hands braced on his thighs, back arched deep, hair swinging wild, sticking to her sweat-slick back.

He gripped her hips hard, fingers bruising, thrust up—hard, deep, relentless, cock dragging over her walls.

She reached back, spread her cheeks wide with both hands, showing him everything—her puckered hole winking, her stretched pussy gripping him, his cock disappearing inside her, cream coating every inch.

"See how wet I am? See how you wrecked me? This hole is yours now... every hole... take them..."

He slapped her ass—CRACK—again—CRACK—again—CRACK—skin burning hot, stinging sweet.

She screamed, came again, squirting down his cock, his balls, the bed, the floor, puddles spreading wide.

"YES! SPANK ME! OWN THIS ASS! MAKE IT HURT! MAKE ME CRY!"

He sat up sudden, wrapped one arm around her throat from behind, choking just right—breath short, head spinning.

The other hand slid between her legs, rubbed her clit fast and rough, fingers slipping in her squirt. She sobbed, bucked wild, came again—body convulsing, voice breaking into high, desperate whimpers, pussy gushing like a fountain.

He flipped her to her side, spooning tight, one leg hooked high over his hip, knee bent sharp.

Slid in slow—deep—grinding, hitting that spot inside that made her see stars, made her shake, made her sob soft.

She reached back, nails digging into his thigh, drawing blood, moaning broken and sweet.

"Slow... fuck... so deep... love this... love you... don’t ever stop... never stop..."

He sped up—harder, faster, the angle perfect, cock dragging over her G-spot with every thrust, wet and loud.

She came again, whispering, whimpering, pussy fluttering soft and sweet, cream thick down his shaft.

He pulled out, pushed her flat on her stomach, straddled her thighs tight.

Slid in from above—prone bone—cock driving down, deep, pinning her to the mattress like a butterfly, hips grinding.

She screamed into the pillow, hands clawing the sheets, ripping fabric faint, ass rippling with every thrust, red and marked and perfect.

"YES! CRUSH ME! FUCK ME INTO THE BED! MAKE ME FEEL IT FOR DAYS! MAKE ME WALK FUNNY!"

He pulled her hips up slight, changed the angle—hit her G-spot dead-on, relentless, cockhead rubbing hard.

She came instantly—squirting under him, soaking the sheets, the mattress, the floor in a hot flood, puddles spreading wide, steam rising faint. Her whole body shook violent, voice gone, just gasps and sobs and broken pleas, drool pooling under her cheek.

He flipped her one last time—missionary, legs pushed back to her ears, folded in half, pussy wide open, dripping, wrecked, begging. He drove in deep—slow, then fast, then brutal.

The bed screamed.

The headboard cracked loud—wood splintering, dust falling.

She clawed his back, his arms, his chest—drawing blood, marking him as hers, nails leaving red trails, skin hot under her touch.

"Cum in me... please... please... I want your baby... want your cum deep... fill me... flood me..."

She tightened—pussy clenching like a vice, hot and wet and pulsing, sucking him in. Legs wrapped tight around his waist, heels digging hard into his ass, pulling him deeper, deeper, ankles locked.

"BREED ME! GIVE ME YOUR SEED! MAKE ME A MOMMY! KNOCK ME UP! FILL MY WOMB!"

Her walls spasmed wild, milking him, sucking him in, begging, cream thick and white coating his cock.

She came again—hard—squirting around his cock, soaking his balls, the bed, everything in a hot, messy flood, juices dripping down his thighs.

"NOW! CUM IN ME! NOW! FILL MY WOMB! GIVE ME YOUR BABY!"

Devon growled—low, animal, primal—hips snapping one last time, burying deep, cockhead pressed to her cervix.

He came—hot, thick, pulsing—flooding her, filling her, pumping rope after rope into her womb, thick and endless.

She moaned, sobbed, felt it—every spurt, every throb, every drop—warm and thick and perfect, flooding her, overflowing, dripping out around his cock, down her ass, pooling under her.

"Yes... yes... so much... so deep... I feel it... I feel you... give me your baby... make me swell..."

She held him there, legs locked tight, pussy still fluttering, milking every last drop, walls pulsing soft. Her hands cupped his face, kissed him soft, then deep, then desperate—tongue sliding, teeth biting, tasting cum and sweat and victory.