Chapter 29: The Living Room Negotiation
The stale coffee smell in the living room was stronger in the afternoon sun. Aidan sat on the worn leather armchair, phone dark in his hand, replaying the silhouette in the doorway. The silence was a physical thing. Then the floorboard in the hall creaked.
Catriona stood at the entrance to the room, leaning against the frame just as she had the night before. She wore one of his old university hoodies and nothing else, the fabric hanging to mid-thigh. Her fiery hair was a wild cascade over her shoulders. Her gaze was direct, unflinching.
“She’s gone,” Catriona said, her voice quiet. “Taxi came twenty minutes ago. You were asleep. I let her out.”
Aidan nodded, putting the phone down on the cluttered side table. “I heard the door.”
“Did you?” She pushed off the doorframe and walked into the room, the sunlight striping her legs. She stopped in front of his chair, looking down at him. “You looked… content.”
“I was exhausted.” He reached for her, his hand circling her wrist. Her skin was warm. “You watched.”
“I did.” She didn’t pull away. A faint, challenging smile touched her lips. “She took it well. Your monstrous cock in her virgin ass. She sounded like a wounded animal. It was hot.”
Her bluntness, the crude approval, made his cock twitch against his thigh. He tugged her gently, and she came, settling sideways into his lap. The hoodie rode up, exposing the creamy skin of her thigh. She felt heavier, more real than anyone else ever had.
“We need to talk,” she said, her fingers playing with the collar of his t-shirt.
“About last night?”
“About us.” Her green eyes searched his, the boldness flickering for a second with something softer, more vulnerable. “I want you, Aidan. All of you. I have for… fucking years. But I don’t want to share you with a dozen starry-eyed students lining up for a taste.”
He absorbed the words. The admission hung between them, simple and seismic. His hand found her waist under the hoodie, skin on skin. “Then I’ll stop. I’ll tell Megan no more sessions. It’s done.”
Catriona shook her head, the red hair catching the light. The wicked smile returned, fuller now. “No. That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to be part of it.” Her voice dropped, conspiratorial, hungry. “I want to choose who gets you. I want to watch you fuck them. I want to see their faces when you split them open. And then…” She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “I want you to fuck me harder. I want to be the one you come back to. The one who owns you. The primary. Your goddess.”
The word, his word, on her lips was a lightning strike. He groaned, his hands sliding down to grip the glorious, heavy curve of her arse, squeezing through the soft fabric. “You already do. You have for years.”
“Say it properly.”
“You own me, Catriona. You’re my fucking goddess.”
She kissed him then, a deep, claiming kiss that tasted of mint and desperation. Her hands shoved his t-shirt up, and he broke the kiss long enough to pull it over his head. She yanked the hoodie off herself, tossing it to the floor. She was bare beneath, her breasts full and pale, tipped with pink, her body a landscape of generous curves he’d dreamed about in a thousand guilty fantasies.
She stood up for a second, pushing his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free his erection. It sprang up, thick and already leaking, dwarfed by nothing in the stark daylight. She looked at it, a hungry appreciation in her eyes. “My god. No wonder they were intimidated. It’s a beautiful weapon.”
She straddled him again, her knees sinking into the cracked leather on either side of his hips. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, guiding the broad head through her folds, coating him in her wetness. She was soaking, her arousal slick and hot against him. She positioned him at her entrance, her eyes locked on his.
“Promise me,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “I’m your primary. Your everything. Even when you’re inside them, you’re thinking of me.”
“I promise. You’re my everything.”
She sank down.
It was a slow, breathtaking descent. Her cunt was unbelievably tight, a slick, velvet fist milking him inch by torturous inch. She took him all, until his pelvis was pressed flush against her, his balls tight against her arse. A full, shuddering sigh escaped her. Her head fell back, exposing the line of her throat.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “You’re even bigger than you look.”
She began to move, a slow, rolling grind of her hips that made his vision blur. Her tits swayed before him, and he leaned forward, taking one peaked nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She cried out, her internal muscles clenching around him like a pulse.
“Is this what you wanted all those times?” he growled against her skin, his hands gripping the swell of her hips, guiding her rhythm. “When you asked that dickhead ex for anal and he made you feel wrong? You were dreaming of this? Of my fat cock?”
“Yes,” she gasped, her pace increasing. The chair groaned beneath them. “I dreamt of you ruining me. Filling all my holes. Claiming me. I dreamt of watching you claim others first. Fuck, Aidan!”
He thrust upward, meeting her downward plunge, driving himself deeper. The sound was obscenely wet, a slick slap of flesh each time their bodies met. He could feel the coil tightening in his gut, but he held it back, focused on her. On the flush spreading across her chest, the desperate gleam in her eyes.
“Who do I belong to?” he demanded, one hand slipping between them to find her clit. It was a hard, swollen bead under his thumb.
“You belong to me!” she shrieked, her control splintering. “You’re mine! Your cock is mine! Your cum is mine!”
He rubbed tight, frantic circles as she rode him, her body bowing with the force of her building orgasm. Her inner walls began to flutter, a rapid, spasmodic tremor.
“Come for me, goddess,” he urged, his own voice ragged. “Soak my cock. Show me who owns it.”
She shattered. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat as her climax ripped through her. Her cunt convulsed around him, a series of intense, gripping pulses that sucked him inexorably toward his own release. He held her through it, his thumb still working her oversensitive clit, prolonging the waves until she was sobbing with the intensity.
As her tremors began to subside, he flipped them. The world lurched, and suddenly she was on her back on the faded floral armchair, him looming over her, his cock still buried to the hilt inside her. He hooked her legs over his arms, spreading her wider, opening her impossibly deeper.
“Now I’m going to fill you,” he grunted, and began to fuck her in earnest.
This was not the slow, worshipful pace of before. This was claiming. Punishing. Each drive of his hips was a brutal, bottoming-out slam that shook the old chair and forced choked gasps from her lips. He watched her face, her eyes glazed, her mouth open in a silent ‘O’ of overwhelming sensation.
“This cunt is mine,” he panted, the words filthy and true. “This perfect, greedy, tight cunt. You feel that? You feel how deep I am?”
“Yes! God, yes! I feel it in my throat! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”
He pistoned into her, the slaps of skin echoing in the sunlit room. The scent of sex—musky and sweet—rose thick around them. He could feel his orgasm gathering, a tidal wave at the base of his spine. He reached between them again, his fingers slick from her juices, and found the tight, furled knot of her asshole. He pressed against it.
Her eyes flew open, meeting his. A new, desperate hunger flared there.
“Next time,” he vowed, his thrusts becoming erratic, brutal. “Next time, I’m taking this. This tight virgin ass is mine. I’m going to lick it open and shove my cock in until you scream. I’m going to fill it with my cum. You understand?”
“Yes! Please! I want it! I want your load in my ass!”
Her permission, her raw, filthy begging, was the final trigger. With a roar that was more sob than shout, he plunged deep and came. Jets of hot cum pulsed from him, flooding her channel, marking her from the inside. He spasmed with each burst, his hips jerking involuntarily, until he was spent, collapsed on top of her, both of them slick and heaving.
For long minutes, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant hum of traffic. His softening cock slipped from her, followed by a warm trickle of his release onto the chair fabric.
She curled into him, her face pressed against his sweaty chest. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his skin. He felt her smile.
“Good,” she murmured, her voice husky with satisfaction. “Now let’s plan your next session. I’ve got a list of girls who need to learn their place. Starting with that blonde from your cosmology seminar. The one who always stares.”
Aidan closed his eyes, holding the woman who was now his heart, his conspirator, his goddess. The path ahead was dark, explicit, and utterly theirs. He kissed the top of her head.
“Show me the list.”