Page 29 of Ava After Midnight

I yank her right back.

“¿A dónde carajo crees que vas?”

She doesn’t answer.

Because we both know she’s not leaving.

I spin her, lift her into my arms, and press her against the glass railing to our left.

She gasps, legs wrapping around me, her soaked, aching pussy grinding against the thick length of my cock.

Her eyes drop.

Her breath catches.

She sees how big I am. How thick. How hard.

I grab her thighs, grip them tight, and rub my cock through her drenched folds.

She whimpers. Desperate. Fucking pleading.

“You want it?” I growl, voice thick with heat. “Suplica por ello, como si tu vida dependiera de ello.”

Her hands grip my face, her eyes wild, hair dripping and sticking to her cheeks.

“Fuck me.”

“Louder.”

She gasps, body writhing, hands gripping at anything, everything. "Please, I—" Her nails dig into my skin, desperate, raw. She’s shaking, fucking wrecked, her body doing all the begging for her.

I drag my teeth over her jaw, my voice nothing but gravel and sin. "Not loud enough."

She whimpers, thighs trembling around me. She fucking screams:

“FUCK ME.”

“FUCK ME.”

I slam into her, one brutal stroke, and her scream shreds through the storm.

Her pussy clenches around me, body shaking, taking all of me.

I don’t move at first. I just hold her there, stretched, stuffed full, pinned against the glass.

She whimpers, breathless.

Then I fuck her.

Slow at first. Making her take every inch, every drag, every deep, aching thrust.

Then harder. Rougher. Deeper.

Her nails dig into my back.

Her hips grind against mine, pulling me deeper, begging for more.

I fist a hand in her hair, yank her head back, and groan against her ear.

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