Chapter 111: | Fucking After Milk III R18+

Steam filled the bathroom, thick enough to soften the edges of everything. Sable was already under the spray, water darkening her hair to ink, running in ropes over her shoulders and down between her breasts. She had her head tipped back, eyes closed, one palm flat against the tile.

Damian stepped in behind her. The water hit his chest, hot enough to sting, and he stood there for a second just letting it run over the scratches she’d left on his back.

“Took you long enough,” she said, without opening her eyes.

“I was busy staring.”

“At what.”

“You know what.”

She turned. Water sluiced down the front of her, over her nipples, down her stomach, into the dark triangle between her thighs. She reached past him for the soap, lathered her hands, and then pressed both palms to his chest — slow, deliberate, spreading the lather across his collarbone and down. Her thumbs circled his nipples and he flinched.

“Sensitive?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Her hands kept moving, down his ribs, over his stomach. When she reached his cock it had already stiffened again, half-hard and rising under the heat of the water. She wrapped one soapy hand around it and pulled once, root to tip. His hips jerked.

“Still ready,” she said. Almost to herself.

“I can keep going.”

“I know you can.” She released him and stepped back under the spray, rinsing her hands. “That’s not the question.”

“What is.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Whether you can keep up.”

She shut the water off. Steam rolled around them both. She pushed past him, grabbed a towel off the rail, and walked out — didn’t dry herself, just carried it loose in one hand, dripping across the floorboards. He followed.

She dropped the towel on the bed and turned to face him. “Sit.”

He sat on the edge of the mattress. She climbed onto him without ceremony — one knee on either side of his hips, thighs braced, hands on his shoulders. Her hair was still dripping. Water ran down her collarbone and he watched it disappear between her breasts.

“Look at me,” she said. He did. She reached down between them, found him, and positioned the head of his cock against her entrance. Then she sank.

Slow. Inch by inch. Her jaw went tight and her eyes fluttered but she didn’t look away, holding his gaze the whole way down, and when her ass met his thighs she let out a breath she’d been holding for the entire descent.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Yeah.” Her voice cracked on the syllable.

She didn’t move for a moment. Just sat there, full, breathing, her hands braced on his shoulders. Her walls flexed around him once, twice. Deliberate squeezes like she was testing the fit.

Then she started to ride.

Slow at first. A steady up-and-down, her hips rolling, her tits bouncing an inch or two with each stroke. Water from her hair dripped onto his chest and ran down his stomach. He reached for her hips and she caught his wrists, pinned them to the mattress on either side of him.

“No,” she said. “Hands off.”

He stayed put. She rode him harder. The pace built — short quick strokes, then long slow ones, then a grind at the bottom where she circled her hips and pressed her clit against his pelvis. Her breathing turned ragged. A moan caught in her throat and she bit it off.

“Like that,” he said.

“Shut up.”

She leaned back, changed the angle, and her whole spine arched. Her hands came off his shoulders and landed behind her on his knees, tits pushed up, head dropped back. She bounced on him now — fast, wet, obscene, and every time she came down he could feel how soaked she was, running down the length of him and pooling where their bodies met.

“That’s it,” he said. “Take it.”

Her eyes snapped open. She looked down at him, hair plastered to her neck, cheeks flushed so deep the color reached her chest. “You’re talking now?”

“Seems like it.”

She laughed — short, breathless and then she stopped moving entirely. Just sat there, impaled, chest heaving.

“Your turn,” she said.

“What’s my turn.”

“You wanted to prove something.” She lifted off him slowly, then turned around. Hands and knees on the mattress, facing away, back arched low. “Show me.”

He got behind her. She was dripping, thighs gleaming in the dim, and he pushed into her in one stroke. She grunted and pushed back to meet him. He set the pace himself this time — slow at first, letting her feel every inch, then faster. His hand came down on her ass and she yelped and bucked and pushed back harder.

“Again,” she said.

He did. The skin flushed pink under his palm. She clenched around him and he had to stop for a second, jaw locked, breathing through his nose.

“Don’t you dare,” she said.

“I’m not.”

“Then move.”

He moved. Slid a hand up her spine, into her hair at the base of her skull, twisted it once. She moaned low in her throat. He pulled — not hard, testing and she answered by shoving her hips back into him so hard their bodies slapped.

“Pull it,” she said. “You know what I want.”

So he did. Head up, throat exposed, spine bowed, and he fucked her at that angle — steady, deep, the slap of skin echoing off the bathroom door. Her toes curled. Her arms gave out and her face fell to the mattress, ass still up, taking every stroke.

“I’m close,” she mumbled into the sheets. “Keep going, keep going…”

He leaned over her back, chest to her spine, mouth at her ear. “Cum for me.”

And she did. Her whole body locked, shuddered once, twice, and a sound came out of her that was half words and half nothing. He rode her through it, slowing, then stopped when her hips finally went still.

She pushed up off the mattress, twisted around, and straddled him again — face to face this time. Slick with sweat, hair a wreck, eyes wild. She reached down, lined him up, and took him in one motion. No slow descent. Just a hard drop until he was buried.

“Finish how you want,” she said.

He grabbed her soft puffy ass with both hands and pulled her down hard as he thrust up. She cried out in soft moans. He did it again, and again, and she met him every time, mouth open against his, breathing his air. When it hit him his hips stuttered and his fingers dug into her and he came with a groan he couldn’t have held back if he’d tried.

She stayed on top of him while he finished, “fuckk.. I’m cumming”. Damian breathed. Her forehead against his, both of them breathing hard. Then he came accordingly beside her laps.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then she slowly lifted herself away and rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand.

Damian turned toward her.

Their eyes met.

Neither said a word.

They held each other’s gaze for one last moment.

Then fatigue finally took over.

Their eyes grew heavy.

And before either of them realized it, they had fallen asleep.