Novel Full Chapter 1148 Bridge
Chapter 1148: Chapter 1148 Bridge
Sabrina looked at Ross’ cock.
It was larger than anything she’d secretly imagined during lonely nights, larger than the vague, clinical diagrams from high school health class.
A faint vein traced along its length, and the dark hair at its base only emphasized its size.
Sabrina blinked rapidly, heat flooding her cheeks, her chest, pooling low in her belly.
She sat back on her heels for a moment, just staring, trying to reconcile the quiet, dependable Ross she’d known for only a few weeks with this raw, undeniably male part of him now laid bare before her.
She drew in a slow, steadying breath. This was why she was here.
She was tired of waiting, tired of pretending the lingering looks and their friendly talks meant nothing.
She knew he wanted her—she’d felt it in the way his gaze sometimes dropped to her mouth and on her sexy body.
But Ross was careful, honorable, the kind of man who would never push.
In the old world, that might have been perfect.
In this one, with death lurking outside every boarded window, waiting felt like a luxury they couldn’t afford.
Tonight, she would be the one to push.
At twenty-five, Sabrina had only ever been kissed—soft, chaste presses of lips from a boyfriend who respected her boundaries too much to test them.
She had wanted to save everything for marriage: her first real kiss with tongue, her first touch below the waist, the first time she gave herself completely.
She’d clung to those ideals like a lifeline, even as the world fell apart around her.
But ideals didn’t keep you warm at night.
They didn’t quiet the ache that had been growing inside her every time Ross smiled at her across a campfire, every time his hand brushed hers while passing a canteen.
The zombie apocalypse had stripped away so much—safety, certainty, tomorrow—but it had also stripped away pretense.
Survival now meant more than just avoiding the infected.
It meant holding on to whatever made you feel alive.
And Ross made her feel alive.
Tentatively, almost reverently, she reached out.
Her fingertips hovered just above his skin for a second before finally making contact.
The warmth of him startled her—soft velvet over steel, the faint throb of a pulse beneath the surface.
A shiver raced up her arm and down her spine.
This was the first time she had ever touched a man like this, the first time she had ever allowed herself to want like this.
Her hand closed gently around him, marveling at the weight, the heat.
She didn’t move yet—just held him, feeling the slow stir of blood as his body began, unconsciously, to respond.
A quiet thrill coursed through her at the realization that even in sleep, he reacted to her touch.
Sabrina leaned closer, her hair falling forward to curtain her face.
The scent of him—clean sweat, faint soap from his last bath this morning, something uniquely Ross—filled her senses.
Her breath ghosted over his skin, and she watched, mesmerized, as he thickened slightly in her grasp.
She bit her lip, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite the nerves.
This was only the prelude of her romantic sexual life.
Whatever came next—whether he woke and pulled her close, or whether she coaxed him gently into awareness—she was done waiting.
In a world that could end tomorrow, she was choosing to take what she wanted today.
And what she wanted was him. All of him.
Less than a minute after Sabrina’s tentative strokes began—soft, exploratory glides of her palms along his warming length—she froze, her breath catching sharply in her throat.
"This can’t be... Is this even real?" she whispered to herself, voice trembling with a mix of awe and disbelief.
In the dim light overhead, Ross’s cock had undergone a breathtaking transformation.
What had started as heavy and impressive even in repose was now an absolute monster: rigid, throbbing, and angled upward against his toned stomach like a challenge.
It had swollen to an impossible fifteen inches—maybe more—with a girth so substantial that her slender fingers couldn’t hope to encircle it.
She tried anyway, wrapping one hand around the base, then adding the second above it, stacking them like she was gripping a baseball bat.
Even then, both hands together barely covered half the towering shaft.
The skin was hot velvet stretched over unyielding steel, veins pulsing visibly beneath the surface as blood surged in response to her touch.
Slowly, almost reverently, she began to pump—long, deliberate strokes from root to just below the flared crown, then back down again.
Each pass drew a fresh bead of precum from the slit, glistening like dew in the firelight.
Sabrina’s world narrowed to the feel of him: the weight in her palms, the slick glide as her hands grew slick with his arousal, the faint, masculine scent that rose with every motion.
Her own breathing grew shallow and quick, matching the subtle twitch of his hips that she told herself was just an unconscious reflex.
She was so completely absorbed—eyes fixed on the way the broad head darkened and swelled further with every pass of her thumbs—that she didn’t notice the change in the room.
Didn’t hear the soft hitch in Ross’s breathing, didn’t see the way his chest rose a fraction deeper, or feel the minute tension that coiled in his thighs.
Ross had woken the instant her second hand joined the first.
Pleasure had yanked him from the edges of sleep like a warm, irresistible current.
The sight that greeted him through slitted eyes—Sabrina on her knees between his spread legs, hair tumbling forward in a dark curtain, lips parted in concentration, cheeks flushed a deep rose as she worked him with both hands—was almost too much to process.
She looked impossibly beautiful like this: innocent and determined all at once, utterly focused on giving him pleasure.
His heart slammed against his ribs; heat flooded every inch of his body.
But he stayed still, clenching his jaw, fisting the sheets at his sides. He wanted to watch her.
Needed to see how far her newfound boldness would carry her today.