Urban God of Rebate: Infinite Returns Of Women And Powers

”Oh fuck,” she breathed. ”That’s so deep.”

”Is that what you wanted?”

”Yes. God. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

The angle was different from everything that had come before. Deeper. Tighter. From behind she felt like a fist wrapped around him, her inner walls gripping with every stroke, and the sound of his hips meeting her ass filled the room with a rhythm that was older than both of them.

”Harder,” she demanded. ”Fuck me harder.”

Sean’s hand found the back of her neck. Not squeezing. Just holding. Just reminding her that she’d asked him to take control and he was taking it.

She moaned and pushed back against him.

”Yes. Like that. Don’t be gentle with me.”

His other hand gripped her hip. His fingers dug into the bone there, the same precise bone that had walked through a runway show and stood in a courtyard and sat at a corner table saying the bravest thing she’d ever said.

Now she was saying something different. Not with words. With the way her body opened for him and demanded more and didn’t flinch from anything he gave her.

”You feel incredible,” he said. ”So tight. So wet.”

”It’s for you. All of it. Every time I’ve gotten wet since the fitting room it’s been for you.”

He drove into her harder.

She cried out. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her ass bounced against his hips with every thrust, and he watched the place where they joined, his cock sliding in and out of her slickness, her arousal coating him completely and running down her thighs.

”Look at me,” she said.

He looked up.

She was watching him over her shoulder, her expression raw and open and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen it, and underneath the vulnerability was something fierce and hungry that hadn’t been fed in twelve years and was finally eating.

”I want to watch you while you fuck me,” she said. ”I want to see your face when you come inside me again.”

”You’re going to come first.”

”Am I.”

It wasn’t a question.

He reached around her hip and found her clit with his fingers. Swollen. Slick. He circled it with the exact pressure he’d learned she needed two orgasms ago, and her whole body jerked like he’d touched her with electricity.

”Oh— fuck— Sean—”

”Come for me.”

Her pussy clamped down on him. Not the rhythmic pulses of before. Something sharper. Something that felt like her body was trying to pull him deeper and keep him there. A scream tore out of her throat, muffled by the mattress, and her legs shook and her back bowed and she came around his cock with an intensity that made his own vision blur at the edges.

He didn’t stop.

He fucked her through it, his fingers still working her clit, his cock still driving into her, and she was making sounds that weren’t words anymore, just broken syllables and gasping breaths and the wet sound of his body meeting hers.

”I can’t—” she started.

”You can.”

”It’s too much—”

”You said you wanted me to take everything.”

She made a sound that was half laugh and half sob. ”I did. I do. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

The word please from Vanessa’s mouth was the single most erotic thing Sean had ever heard.

He pulled her hips up higher. Changed the angle. Drove into her with long strokes that made her gasp on every thrust.

”Your pussy feels so good,” he said. ”So tight around my cock. You were made for this.”

”It was made specially for you.” Said Vanessa

His release was building. He felt it in his thighs first. Then the base of his spine. Then that specific gathering at the root of his cock that meant he had maybe a minute before he couldn’t hold it anymore.

”Where do you want it,” he said.

”Inside me. Fill me up again. I want to feel it.”

His rhythm faltered. His grip on her hips tightened. He was close, so close, and she must have felt it because she started pushing back against him harder, meeting his thrusts with her own, her ass slapping against his stomach.

”Give it to me,” she said. ”Come in my pussy. I want every drop.”

Sean let go.

His orgasm hit him like a wall of heat. His cock pulsed deep inside her, and she cried out and came with him, her third or fourth or fifth— he’d lost count— and her pussy milked him with contractions that seemed to last forever, drawing every last pulse from his body until he was empty and shaking and barely able to hold himself upright.

He collapsed forward, his chest against her back, both of them breathing like they’d run a marathon.

For a long moment neither of them spoke.

Vanessa stirred beneath him.

”Don’t move yet,” she said quietly. ”Stay inside me. Just for another minute.”

He stayed.

Her hand found his where it rested on her hip. Her fingers interlaced with his. The gesture was surprisingly tender given everything that had just happened.

”That was,” she started, then stopped.

”Yeah,” he said.

She laughed softly. The genuine one. Slightly breathless. ”I don’t have words for it. I’ve spent twenty years having words for everything and I don’t have words for that.”

”You don’t need words.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she shifted, and he slipped out of her, and she turned over beneath him so they were facing each other. Her expression was still raw, still open, but something else was there now. Something that looked almost like wonder.

”You’re still hard,” she said.

She was right. He was. His cock was pressed against her thigh, still slick with both of them, still ready despite everything.

”I told you,” he said. ”I recover fast.”

She looked at him for a long moment. Then a smile spread across her face.

”Good,” she said. ”Because I’m not finished with you either.”

She pushed him onto his back.