Her Dirty Pleasures: Erotica Collection

Ava's pov


The stretch splits me open, and the cry that tears from my throat fills the room.


He's inside me. All the way. His cock buried to the hilt in my pussy with my face in the sheets, my ass in the air and his hands bruising my hips.


He's thicker than his fingers, thicker than the inch he teased me with, and my walls are being forced apart around him. I can feel every ridge of his cock pressing against tissue that's swollen and hypersensitive from cumming on his hand.


"Fuck," he groans, gripping my hips. "You're squeezing me so hard I can barely move. This tight little pussy has been waiting for me, hasn't it?"


"Don't flatter yourself," I gasp into the mattress.
He slams in, and the impact shoves my face deeper into the sheets. "Your cunt is strangling my cock and you're still talking shit."


He fucks me from behind with strokes that are hard and deep and relentless. Every thrust bottoms out inside me, his cock hitting something at the back of my pussy that sends a sharp pulse through my belly.


The wet sound of him pounding into me fills the room, this obscene slick noise with every stroke, and I can hear my own wetness on his cock.

The sound makes my face burn, and my pussy grips him tighter.


"You hear that?" he says, slamming in. "That's how wet you are for your stepbrother. That sound is your pussy begging for more."


"Shut up," I gasp, but my hips push back to meet his thrust.


"Make me." He grabs my hair and pulls my head back, arching my spine. "You feel that? That's what three years of wanting feels like. Every time you went to your room and put your hand between your legs, thinking about me."


"How do you know I was thinking about you?"


"Because you just came on my cock in under a minute." He slams in deep and I moan into the mattress.

"Because your pussy grips me like it was built for my cock specifically. Because you're pushing your ass back, begging for more while pretending you hate this."


"Harder," I moan, because he's right, and fighting it is pointless when his cock is hitting my g-spot on every stroke. "Fuck me harder, Caleb."


"There's the begging," he says, and the dark satisfaction in his voice makes my walls clench around him. "Told you it was coming."


He pounds into me so hard the headboard cracks the wall. My tits swing with every impact. His hand slaps my ass and the sting shoots straight to my clit, and I cry out.

He spanks me again and again, each crack ringing through the room.


"Every time I spank you, you get tighter," he says, landing another slap. "This pussy loves being punished. You love getting fucked and spanked by the stepbrother you pretend to hate."


"I do hate you," I moan, pushing my ass back harder.


"Sure you do. That's why you're fucking me back so hard the bed is hitting the wall." He spanks me, and I scream. "That's why you grabbed my wrist and begged me to keep going. That's why your pussy is dripping down my balls right now."


He grabs my jaw and yanks my head to the side. The hotel mirror is right there. Full-length. I see myself, face wrecked, mouth open, hair tangled in his fist. And him behind me, body flexed, cock disappearing into me over and over.


"Watch," he says. "Watch what you look like getting fucked by your stepbrother while our parents sleep through the wall."


I watch. My reflection is a stranger. Desperate. Flushed in a way I've never been. His cock stretches my pussy on every stroke, and I can see it in the mirror.


The way my body jolts forward with every thrust, the way my face contorts into something between agony and ecstasy, the way my mouth shapes sounds that would end my family if anyone heard them.


"Look at your face," he says, watching me in the glass while he fucks me. "That's the face you hide from everyone. The real one. The one that needs to get fucked by her stepbrother to feel alive."


"You've been thinking about this since you were fifteen," he says, slamming into me. "Since I caught you with your hand between your legs. You were thinking about me. Weren't you?"


"Yes," I gasp, because lying is impossible when I can see the truth written across my own face in a hotel mirror.


"Say it to the mirror. Tell her what you are."
"I'm his stepsister," I moan, watching myself get destroyed, watching my pussy stretch around his cock in the reflection.

"And I've wanted him to fuck me for three years, and it's better than anything I ever imagined. I don't want him to stop."


He slams in so hard the bed shakes and I cum watching my face shatter in the glass. My pussy clenches around him in waves that make his hips stutter and I'm shaking and screaming.


The girl in the mirror looks like someone who just burned her life down and doesn't regret it.


He pulls out. I collapse face-first. Shaking, pulsing and dripping.
I think it's over. We've been at this for over an hour. My body is trembling. My thighs are sticky. My voice is raw.


His hands are on me again. But different. He turns me over gently, carefully, like the roughness drained out of him all at once. The face looking down at me isn't smirking.

The mask is gone, and is replaced with something raw and unguarded.

He moves me to the center of the bed. Lays me down. Climbs over me. Settles between my legs. His forehead drops close to mine.

I'm not sure what to expect with him, and that terrifies me more than everything he's done tonight.