Chapter 130| Sex In A Bathroom R18+

Chapter 130: Chapter 130| Sex In A Bathroom R18+

Zane raised her from her soft portable butt and placed her on the counter nearby.

The counter was cold against Maren’s thighs. Zane’s hands slid under them, lifting her like she weighed nothing, and her bare ass met the porcelain with a slap that made her hiss through her teeth. The tap dripped beside her hip. Once. Twice.

"Legs wide," he said.

She opened them. Wide enough that the sundress bunched at her waist was the only thing covering her, and even that was useless—a folded blue hem, damp at the edge, framing the mess he’d left inside her. Cum had started to cool on her skin. She could feel it tacking to her inner thighs, sticky and unmistakable.

Zane stepped between her knees. His cock was still slick, still heavy, bobbing against his stomach as he shifted closer. He didn’t touch her yet. Just stood there, palms flat on the counter on either side of her hips, caging her in.

The mirror ran the full length of the wall behind the sink. It caught both of them—her flushed face, his shadowed jaw, the flickering tube of light reflected twice so the room looked longer than it was.

"Look at ourselves ," he said throwing a small smirk.

Maren turned her head. Her hair was a disaster. One strap of the sundress had slipped off her shoulder and the other was twisted. Her lips were swollen and darker than usual. There was a red mark on her chin where his zipper had scraped her earlier.

She looked wrecked. She looked like she wanted more.

"I’m looking," she said.

He dragged the head of his cock through the slick between her legs. Slow. Up one lip, then down the other, gathering what he’d left behind and spreading it back over her clit in a wet stripe. Her hips bucked. The counter edge bit into the underside of her thighs.

"You’re going to watch me this time," he said.

"I watched you last time."

"Not your face."

Her throat clicked on a swallow. She understood.

He lined up and pushed in. Two inches, then three, then all of it—one long thrust that made her spine arch off the porcelain. Her heels knocked against the cabinet doors. The mirror caught the moment her mouth dropped open and stayed that way.

"Oh.." The word broke into pieces. "Oh, fu...Zane..."

He didn’t give her time. He pulled back and slammed in again, and the sink shuddered in its brackets. Water sloshed in the trap. The loose bolt in the stall rattled like a warning.

Maren’s hands flew up and caught the back of his neck. Nails dug in. He felt every one of them, sharp and grounding, as he found the rhythm that made her cunt flutter around him—that tight, involuntary pulse that told him she was already close again.

"Look," he said. "In the glass."

Her eyes dragged left. Found their reflection. Found his face behind hers, jaw tight, sweat beading at his hairline. Found her own body split open around him, the sundress shoved up, her tits bouncing with every thrust because he wasn’t being gentle. She watched his cock disappear into her, over and over, wet and shining under the fluorescent light.

"You see that?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried. "You see what you do to me?"

Maren tried to answer. What came out was a sob—a short, involuntary sound that had nothing to do with sadness. Her cunt clenched hard around him. He felt it travel up his shaft like a fist closing.

He fucked her harder. Short, brutal strokes that kept him buried deep, never pulling back more than an inch. The counter creaked. Her ass slid on the porcelain and he grabbed her hips to hold her still, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

"Don’t stop," she gasped. "Please..don’t..."

"I’m not stopping."

He angled up. That spot. He knew it by the way her whole body jerked, by the way her mouth went wide and silent before the moan tore out of her. Her heels drummed against the cabinet. Her head fell back and knocked against the mirror with a dull thud.

He reached between them. Thumb found her clit, pressed flat, and rubbed—not circles, just back and forth, matching the rhythm of his hips. She was so wet it was almost frictionless. Almost. But the pressure was there, steady and merciless, and he watched her face in the glass as it happened.

Her eyes went wide. Then blank. Then wet.

She came with a cry that cracked in the middle—high, then low, then nothing but breath. Her cunt clamped around him in waves, each one pulling at him, trying to drag him over the edge with her. Her nails raked down his neck. Her thighs locked around his hips and squeezed.

Zane held on. Barely. The pressure at the base of his spine was a fist, tightening, threatening. He drove in deep and stayed there, grinding, letting her ride it out on his cock while her body shook.

When she finally went limp, he pulled back and fucked her through the aftershocks—slow, deep, watching her face in the mirror the whole time. She was dazed. Her eyes kept drifting shut and snapping open again, like she was trying to stay present but her body had other plans.

"You’re still hard," she mumbled.

"Told you."

He pulled out. The wet sound was obscene—a thick, dragging noise that echoed off the tiles. Cum and her own slick ran down his shaft, dripped onto the floor between her feet. He wrapped his hand around himself and stroked once, twice, watching her watch him.

Maren reached down. Two fingers slid through the mess between her legs and lifted, glistening, to her mouth. She tasted herself. Tasted him. Her eyes never left his.

"Finish," she said.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Three more strokes and he was there—hips jerking, cum spilling over his fist and onto her stomach. It landed in thick stripes across her belly, pooled in her navel, dripped down toward the bunched hem of her dress. His groan came out through his teeth, low and ragged. He didn’t want to cum in her again.

For a moment, the only sound was the fluorescent tube buzzing and the tap dripping into the basin.

Then Maren sat up. Cum slid down her stomach in slow, lazy trails. She looked at the mess he’d made and then at his face—flushed, breathing hard, still holding his softening cock.

She hopped off the counter. Her legs wobbled, just a little. He pretended not to notice.

They both stared at each other satisfied with pleasure then Maren said.

"Help me with my panties," she said.

He retrieved them from the hand dryer. Blue flowers, still damp at the crotch. She took them and said "thank you".