“Please, Alpha… f**k me. I need it. Need you to break me..make me scream..make me c*m…”
My fingers curled inside.
I found that spot. The g spot. My c******s
And f**k…
“Ah..!”
My back bowed. My clit pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own. I rubbed harder, grinding down, f*****g myself, moaning his name over and over like a slut who didn’t care anymore.
“Damon… Damon… f**k, Damon…”
The orgasm crashed through me like a goddamn storm. My legs locked. My stomach caved. My p***y clenched so hard around my fingers it felt like it was trying to break them. My mouth dropped open but no sound came out at first. Just air. Just heat.
Then..
“Ahhh…fuck…yes…Alpha…yes..”
+ Prints 2
I cried as I came f*****g hards, so f*****g hard thst my lips trembled as I felt the I knees slips out of my p***y. Oh f**k. It came out violently like a rush.
My cunt gushed. My thighs twitched. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted the salt on my lips.
I collapsed.
Breathless.
Ruined.
Still empty.
Still starving.
Because no matter how deep my fingers went…
They weren’t him.
And they never would be.
They never would be.
Because no matter how fast I moved, how deep I shoved, how tight my walls clenched, they were still mine. My fingers, which wet just soft, small and weak and I didn’t want small and soft. f**k. I wanted to be split. I wanted to be stuffed. I wanted to be
*****d so deeply that I forgot my name.
I should’ve been satisfied. But guess what? I wasn’t.
My body should’ve collapsed and stayed down, twitching in post-orgasm haze, f****d out by my own pathetic little hands. But it wasn’t enough. f**k, it wasn’t even close. Because the second I stopped moving, the second my hips stilled and the sheets stuck to my thighs, that ache came crawling right back.
Like my p***y was mocking me.
Like it knew those fingers weren’t his.
And they never would be.
I rolled onto my back with a sob. Not from sadness. From need. My chest was rising and falling too fast, my skin damp with sweat. My clit throbbed so hard I thought I might scream again just from air touching it.
I looked down.
My p***y was glossed.. The lips slick and red from friction, twitching with every heartbeat. My folds glistened. My entrance fluttered like it was waiting to be filled. Begging.
I spread my legs wider and stared at it.
My cunt.
Dripping.
Used.
And still f*****g starving.
My fingers hovered there for a second. Shaky. Barely able to move. And then I dipped two of them back into the slick.
Warm.
Wet. f*****g soaking.
I whimpered.
I couldn’t help it.
The moment I touched myself again, my head fell back against the pillow, and I let out the filthiest, rawest sound that had ever left my throat. My toes curled. My eyes fluttered. My lips parted in a moan that was barely human.
“Oh..fuck…”
I didn’t even go slow this time.
I shoved them in.
Hard.
PORTS ?
Two fingers deep inside my soaked p***y, curling fast, searching for that spot, that sacred place inside me that only lit up when I thought about him.
And I was thinking about him.
So hard it hurt.
I imagined him standing at the doorway.
Arms crossed. Shirtless. His c**k already hard. Thick. Heavy. Veins running like rivers down the shaft. His eyes locked on mine, full of fire and hunger and punishment. I imagined him saying it. Low. Cold. Cruel.
“Didn’t I tell you not to touch what’s mine?”
I gasped.
I f****d my fingers deeper.
“Yours,”
I whispered, voice cracked and soaked in filth.
“I’m yours…”
My other hand flew to my clit.
I started rubbing it fast. Relentless. No rhythm. Just desperation. I needed it. Needed to c*m again. Harder. More. I needed it to hurt. To burn. I needed it to feel like I was being f****d open by him.
My back arched.
My belly clenched.
And I couldn’t stop.
The squelching noises were obscene. Sticky. Loud. The air reeked of s*x and slick and sweat. My thighs slapped against the sheets. My hips rolled. I was a mess. A needy, dripping, crying slut of a mess.
“Please…Alpha…please…”
I moaned into the room like a f*****g offering.
My fingers curled again. My p***y squeezed around them like it was trying to keep them in. But they weren’t enough. They were too thin. Too short. Too human. And I needed a monster. I needed that thick c**k I’d felt pressing into my stomach, so f*****g high up it made me think he could f**k my soul out of my body.
My thighs started to shake.
“Oh fuck..oh fuck..please…
I was losing it. It felt like my mind had gone to another dimension because f**k I was gone.
And still, I imagined him.
Not touching me.
Not f*****g me.
Just watching..
Arms folded. c**k out.
Smirking.
Watching me fall apart like the filthy, desperate little slut I was.
His voice echoed in my head…
“That p***y’s loud, baby. She screams for me before I even touch her.”
I screamed.
Loud.
So loud it cracked the air.
The orgasm ripped through me like lightning.
My legs clamped shut around my hand. My p***y clenched and fluttered. I could feel it..spasming, gushing, coating my fingers in another wave of wet heat that made a mess of my thighs, my robe, the bed beneath me.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.