Chapter 164 Cum On My Cock
I should have objected. Should have insisted on protection. Should have maintained at least that one boundary.
"I don't object," I heard myself say.
He pushed inside in one smooth thrust, and we both groaned at the sensation. Bare skin on skin, nothing between us, and it felt impossibly more intense than it had with a condom.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, starting to move. "So wet. So tight. So perfect."
He fucked me on that counter with deep, powerful strokes, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. When he hooked my legs over his shoulders and changed the angle, I felt him so deep I saw stars.
"This is what you deserve," he said roughly. "This is what sex should be. Not quick and disappointing. Not your partner using you and rolling over. This. Someone who wants to make you feel good. Who wants to watch you fall apart."
"Yes," I sobbed, feeling another orgasm building impossibly fast. "God, yes. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"Not stopping." His thumb found my clit, rubbing circles. "Going to make you cum on my cock. Want to feel you squeeze me."
My fourth orgasm ripped through me with devastating force, and I felt him follow, his cock pulsing as he emptied inside me. The warmth of his release flooding me felt primal and wrong and so fucking right.
We stayed locked together for a long moment, both catching our breath.
"Kitchen, check," he said with a satisfied smile. "Where next?"
"What?"
"I said every room in the house." He pulled out carefully, and I felt his cum start to leak out of me. "Living room? Shower? My dad's office? You choose."
The wrongness of it should have bothered me. Should have made me pause.
Instead, it made me wetter.
"Living room," I decided. "On the couch where he watches television."
Jake's grin was wicked. "I like how you think."
He carried me to the living room, both of us leaving our discarded clothes behind, and laid me down on the leather couch Richard loved.
This time he took it slower, exploring my body with hands and mouth, finding every sensitive spot, learning what made me gasp. When he finally entered me again, it was gentle and deep, his eyes locked on mine.
"You're so beautiful," he said, his hips rolling in steady rhythm. "Has anyone told you that lately? Made you feel desired?"
"No," I admitted, tears gathering in my eyes from the intimacy of it.
"Then I'm going to tell you every day this week. Going to make sure you know exactly how gorgeous you are. How much I want you. How much I love watching you come apart for me."
He made love to me on that couch with a tenderness that destroyed me, and when we both came together, it felt like something shifted between us—from forbidden lust into something more complicated.
We fucked in the shower next, him taking me against the tile while water cascaded over us. Then in his father's office, me bent over Richard's desk while Jake pounded into me from behind. Finally in his own room, where he tied my hands to his headboard with his belt and showed me what it felt like to give up control completely.
By the time we collapsed in his bed hours later, both exhausted and satisfied, I'd lost count of my orgasms. My body ached in the best way, marked with hickies and fingerprints and the evidence of being thoroughly used.
"You okay?" Jake asked, pulling me against his chest.
"More than okay," I said honestly. "That was... I don't even have words."
"That was just day one," he pointed out. "We have six more days. And I'm going to use every single one of them to show you what you've been missing. To teach you everything. To make you feel so good you'll never settle for mediocre sex again."
The implication was clear: after this week, there was no going back to pretending Richard satisfied me. No going back to accepting scraps when I'd finally tasted the feast.
"What happens when he comes home?" I asked quietly. "When this week ends?"
"I don't know," Jake admitted. "But I know I'm not ready to give this up. Give you up. Are you?"
I should have said yes. Should have insisted this was temporary. Should have protected my marriage and my future.
"No," I whispered instead. "I'm not ready to give this up either."
He kissed the top of my head, and we drifted off tangled together in his bed—the bed where he'd jerked off thinking about me, where he'd left his door open hoping I'd watch.
And as I fell asleep in my stepson's arms, his cum still inside me, I knew I'd crossed a line I could never uncross.
I just didn't care anymore.
Because for the first time in two years, I felt alive.