Page 69 of Fairground

I groan and lean back into his grip, practically humping the air now that my clit is being ignored.

“I’m not teasing you, baby. I just don’t want your first time coming tonight to be on my mouth. I want it on my cock. The way I’ve been imagining it for weeks now.”

Oh…hell that sounds good.

Of course, my mind immediately jumps to the fact that this will be the first and last time we do this. Isn’t that what everyone keeps telling me about Cash? Once he fucks a woman, the chase is over, and he moves on. So why am I wishing that wasn’t true now? Why am I letting myself hope, even for a second that I might be different, and this might not be the beginning of the end.

I feel pathetic—horny, desperate, all the things—but none of that stops me from shifting back a little farther, craving the friction of him against me again and grinding my ass against his front.

I hear the telltale sound of his jeans unzipping and falling to the floor before the thick crown of his cock nudges at my opening.

He groans low and rough. “Motherfucker, your pussy got me so distracted I almost forgot the condom.”

I hear him pull back, reaching for his jeans, the crinkle of foil following, and then he’s back, his now-covered tip pressing against me again. And damn it if I don’t wish I trusted him enough to let him take me bare right now.

“I’ll go slow. Gonna be a tight fit, judging by the way you squeeze my fingers,” he murmurs.

I already know he’s thick from that night in the haunted house, but knowing and experiencing it are two very different things. Cash pushes in just a little, then pulls back, testing my limits.

“Play with your tits, baby,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Need you extra wet for me.”

Obediently, I grab my breasts with one hand and keep the other on the glass, rolling my fingers over the hardened peaks as I close my eyes and try to relax. He thrusts again, firmer this time, and the stretch of him sends a gasp out of me.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” I breathe, unable to hold back.

His grunt is low and ragged. “And you’re so tight. Give me a second. Can’t bust this fast. I’m not even inside you yet.”

He pushes in a little more, waits, then again, until finally, he stills, panting hot against my neck. Then, slowly, he drags himself all the way out—every painfully long, thick inch—before sliding himself up between my thighs to nudge his tip against my clit where he presses like a button.

“Fuck me,” he groans. “I’m gonna come too fast.”

“Please, Cash,” I pant, glancing over my shoulder. “I need more of you.”

His control snaps. He slams back into me, hard enough to rock me forward against the glass with a slight thump.

“Dammit, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” I say though Chickaletta’s eyes are open now, and for one absurd, fleeting moment, I swear the hen smirks at me. Then she closes her eye again, utterly unbothered like she knows it’s her owner who she worships fucking me right now. Andfrankly, I get it, Chickaletta. I really do get why she’d worship him.

He pulls out, and thrusts back in, each time getting me adjusted to his width until it’s one long, smooth motion of him fucking me forcefully repeatedly. He’s relentless, his hips snapping into mine with a desperate, consuming rhythm. My hands brace against the glass, trembling as he grips my hip with one hand, the other trailing down to knead my ass. And then I feel it—the sudden, sharp sting of his palm spanking me.

“Shit!” I gasp, my body jerking as my pussy clenches down hard around him.

He chuckles darkly, his breath heavy. “You like that, sweetheart?”

I nod, breathless. “I think I do.”

He tests it again, spanking my other cheek harder this time, and my reaction is instant—my body tightens, trembles, and clenches as soon as his palm meets my skin.

“Dammit, you’re squeezing me like a fucking glove,” he groans, his voice breaking on the words. “Do it again.”

So, I do, clenching hard as he lets out a string of expletives and spanks me. He does it over and over again, his hand cracking against my skin while he drives into me deeper, harder with grunts that fill the warm space. I’m helpless against the onslaught, the pleasure building until it’s all-consuming.

“Love the way your ass shakes when I smack it,” he groans. “I’m gonna come, Rae.” His thrusts are more erratic now, and there’s little rhythm behind what we’re doing as we both chase our release.

“Me too,” I gasp, my voice breaking.

“Give me your cunt. Squeeze it out of me.”

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