Page 65 of Christmas with the Irish Devil
He does not let me escape the stretch. Inch by inch, he forces me to open, his groans guttural, breaking in my ear. The mirrorshows me taking him—my body trembling, my ass straining to swallow his cock, the wet shine of him slipping deeper into a place I never thought I could give.
“Christ, Aoife,” he mutters, voice fractured. “So fucking tight. You’re squeezing me like a fist.”
I shudder at the filth, at the rawness in his tone. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, streaking down my face, but the sight of him in me—his cock buried where no one has ever been—makes me moan through the pain. The mirror does not lie. It shows me wrecked and open, stretched wide, my body claiming him in the filthiest way imaginable.
When he bottoms out, seated fully inside, I feel every inch of him. The pressure is overwhelming, full, unbearable, and yet perfect. My breath is ragged, caught between sobs and moans. My ass clenches around him, involuntary, and his growl tears through the room.
“Don’t squeeze me like that unless you want me to come inside you right now,” he grits, his teeth grazing my ear.
I whimper, grinding against him anyway, desperate for more. The burn starts to ease, turning into a deeper ache that throbs with want. His hips roll once, slow, deliberate, and the sensation makes me cry out, high and raw.
He starts to move, grinding deep, slow thrusts that drag every nerve raw. My body jerks forward with every push, my breasts bouncing in the mirror, my slick dripping down my thighs. The wet slap of skin fills the room, obscene, every sound amplified in the quiet.
Then he goes harder. His cock pounds into me, stretching me again and again, each thrust forcing a sob from my lips. His hand slides down between my thighs, fingers finding my clit, rubbing rough circles that make my hips buck and my body seize.
The contrast is unbearable—the brutal invasion of his cock in my ass, the sweet torture of his fingers on my clit. The mirrorshows me writhing, my head thrown back, my body breaking open under him. I moan his name, begging, pleading, lost in the filth and the fire.
“Look at yourself,” he growls, biting my shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Look at how perfect you are for me. Taking me everywhere. Giving me everything. No one else will ever fuck you like this, Aoife.”
“I’m yours,” I sob, watching myself unravel in the mirror, my body clenching down around him, trembling under the onslaught.
His cock slams deep, harder now, the wet slap sharp, the sounds filthy as his cum from earlier leaks down my thighs, mixing with the slick from my pussy. His fingers work my clit faster, crueler, until I scream, my body bowing back, my walls clamping tight. The orgasm tears through me, violent, wrenching sobs from my chest as I collapse against his arm, shaking, shuddering, milking him with every clench.
He groans into my ear, his breath hot, his voice wrecked. “Good girl. Come for me again. Milk my cock with that tight little hole. I’ll give you what you’re begging for. I’ll fill you so deep you’ll leak for days.”
And I do. I come again, my body convulsing, my breath breaking. The mirror shows me undone, tears streaking my cheeks, sweat shining on my skin, my ass stretched wide around the thickness of him. Declan’s cock drives through every spasm, every tremor, his groans spilling against my neck as he pounds me harder, chasing his own finish.
“You’re mine,” he groans, his voice breaking. “Every hole, every inch of you. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I sob, my body clenching, milking him. “I’m fucking yours.”
That undoes him. His thrusts turn savage, pounding deep, his groans guttural in my ear. Then he roars my name, slamminginto me one final time as his cock jerks and spills hot inside my ass. The heat floods me, thick and messy, filling the tightest part of me until I am dripping.
I watch in the mirror as his cum leaks out around him, white and obscene against my swollen flesh. The sight makes me whimper, makes me grind back against him, milking every last drop.
He holds me there, buried deep, his arm locked around my waist, his other hand still tugging at my breast, thumb stroking over the tender nipple he marked. His breath is harsh, his lips wet on my shoulder, his voice a broken growl.
“Every last drop. You took it all. My perfect girl.”
And in the mirror, I see myself undone, spread open, filled and claimed, and I know I will never belong anywhere but here.
His thrusts grow ragged, deeper, the rhythm breaking as his cock jerks inside me. I can feel it in the way his body tightens, the guttural sound tearing from his chest. His fingers still work my clit, dragging me mercilessly toward another peak even as he chases his own.
“Fuck, Aoife,” he groans into my ear, voice rough, desperate. “I can’t hold it. Gonna come so deep in this tight little ass you’ll feel me for days.”
The words set me off again. My body clenches hard, my orgasm crashing through me, sharp and unbearable. My cry fills the room, raw and broken, my reflection in the mirror showing me shuddering, trembling, tears streaking down my face as I convulse on him. My ass grips him like a vice, milking his cock.
He snarls my name, slamming into me one last brutal time, burying himself to the hilt. His cock jerks, then floods me with hot, thick spurts, pulsing again and again until I sob at the sensation. The heat burns through me, spreading, filling every inch, and the mirror shows it—his body locked against mine, hiships grinding to push it deeper, my ass stretched wide, leaking around him.
“Take it,” he growls, his voice shredded, his hand clamped on my breast. “Take every fucking drop.”
And I do. I moan, grinding back against him, clenching to hold him inside, to keep it all. His cum leaks around the base of his cock, slick and obscene, dripping down the curve of my ass, and the sight in the mirror makes me whimper.
He keeps moving, slow thrusts that grind his seed deeper, making sure I take it all. His lips are hot on my shoulder, biting, sucking, marking me again as his cock pulses out the last of him.
When he finally stills, both of us heaving, I see it in the glass—me ruined and filled, my body owned, my ass stuffed with his cum, my breasts mauled under his hand, my throat covered in his marks. His arm stays locked around my waist, holding me up, while his cock remains buried deep, plugging the mess he just spilled inside me.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, softer now, kissing the shell of my ear. “Mine. Every hole, every drop, mine.”
