Page 44 of Charmed By the Next-Door Neighbor
"You can take it. You're doing so good, baby. Taking my cock so fucking well."
The praise mixed with the filth makes something inside me snap. I've never been fucked like this. Never even close. The few guys I've been with were gentle. Like they were afraid I'd break. Nash is fucking me like he owns me. Like he's claiming every inch of me for himself.
And god help me, I want to be owned.
I wrap my arms around his neck and press my mouth to his ear. "I want—" I gasp as he thrusts particularly deep. "I want you to fuck me from behind."
He freezes mid-thrust.
"What?"
"Doggy style," I breathe. "It's my favorite. I want… Please, Nash, I want to feel you that way.”
His cock twitches inside me and his grip on me tightens.
"You sure?" His voice is strained. "I don't know if we can manage it in this car."
"Please. Please, can we try?"
He pulls back enough to look at me, and the expression on his face is otherworldly. He's smirking.
"With pleasure," he says.
The words send a shiver down my spine.
He slows his thrusts and I reluctantly climb off his lap, already missing the feeling of him inside me. The car is cramped and awkward, but I don't care.
I scramble into the back seat, getting on my knees on the worn upholstery, ass up, face pressed against the seat. I can hear him moving behind me. The creak of the car as he maneuvers his large frame into the back seat with me.
I can't see what he's doing but then I feel it: his hand on my thigh, spreading me wider. And then his cock, thick and hard, rubbing against my entrance. Not pushing in. Just teasing. Sliding through my wetness. Making me whimper.
"Nash, please—"
"Please what?"
"Fuck me. Please fuck me."
"How bad do you want it?"
"So bad. Please, I need—"
He slams into me in one brutal thrust and I scream. The new angle is devastating. He's even deeper like this, hitting places I didn't know existed, and he doesn't give me time to adjust.
He just starts fucking me.
Fast and hard and relentless.
His hands grip my hips, pulling me back to meet each thrust, and the sounds filling the car are obscene. The slap of skin on skin. My moans. His grunts.
The silent man who barely spoke to me for three months is gone. In his place is someone wild. Someone lost to pleasure. Someone who's as desperate for this as I am.
"More," I gasp. "Don't stop. Please don't ever stop."
"Fuck, Claire—"
His hand comes down on my ass, a sharp slap that makes me yelp. Then the other cheek. The sting blooms into heat and I clench around him.
"Again," I beg.
