He fucked me in Her kitchen while she shopped for dinner

It had been five days since the parking garage.

Five days since he bent me over the back seat, fucked me so hard the echo bounced off concrete, and then drove home like he hadn’t just emptied himself inside me.

I wasn’t supposed to see him again that week. He was playing the doting boyfriend.. weeknight dinners, shared Netflix accounts, grocery runs with her like a happy little domestic pair. But then I got the text.

“She just left. You have 30 minutes.”

I was already pulling my coat from the closet before he hit send. Nothing underneath.. just skin, perfume, and the mess of wanting him again.

By the time I parked down the block and slipped through the back door, I was soaked. The same wet heat I’d carried since the stairwell, since the couch, since the parking garage. He did that to me. He ruined me for anything slow or sweet.

He met me in the kitchen with his shirt unbuttoned, belt already undone. His eyes drank me in as I dropped the trench coat to my elbows, flashing every inch of bare skin like an invitation and a dare.

“Fuck,” he muttered, stepping toward me.

“I don’t want sweet,” I whispered. “I want your cum on her kitchen counter”

That broke him.

He spun me around and bent me over the marble kitchen island, pressing my chest flat against it. The surface was cold, but his hands were fever-hot as they dragged over my hips and yanked my legs apart.

“She makes smoothies here,” I teased, looking back at him, “right where you’re about to ruin me.”

He didn’t say a word. Just shoved into me, raw and desperate, making me cry out as he filled me in one brutal thrust.

My hands slipped across the counter as he fucked me hard.. no rhythm, no patience, just raw need. The kind that doesn’t care about the open window above the sink or the quiet suburban street outside.

Every slap of skin was a threat. Every thrust was a confession. This wasn’t love. This was possession.

He gripped my hips, thrusting deeper, harder, until I couldn’t stop the moans spilling from my lips… until I didn’t care who might hear. My body trembled, slick and stretched wide, as I came with a strangled cry, clenched so tight around him I thought I might break him.

He didn’t stop.

He fucked me through it, panting my name, rutting like he couldn’t get deep enough. His nails dug into my ass, his thrusts turned frantic, messy, and then—

I heard it.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

I twisted my head, panic and thrill sparking at once. “That’s her.”

“I know,” he growled, slamming into me. “I’m almost there.”

He came with a groan so low it vibrated through my spine, filling me deep, hot, and heavy. His cum dripped down my thighs as he pulled out, breathless, still hard, still wild-eyed.

We stood frozen, hearts pounding, my body ruined against her clean countertop.. while her keys jingled at the door.

I yanked the trench coat around me, still wet between the legs, and slipped out the back just as she stepped in the front.

I didn’t need to look back.

Her fridge was full. Her house smelled like vanilla and wine. But I was the one full of him.