Chapter 4: Morning After Tensions another set
The kitchen felt sterile after they left. The amber lights glowed over empty champagne flutes and the scattered debris of a hurried breakfast—crumbs of brioche, a smear of jam on black marble. Till had shoved his chair back with a screech, muttering something about Ivan’s coffee being too strong, and Ivan had just nodded, his charcoal eyes following Till’s jittery exit. The silence they left behind was a live wire.
Back in their own apartment, the door clicked shut with a sound of finality. Mizi turned from locking it, her mind still half in the hallway, on the understanding in Ivan’s eyes and the storm in her brother’s.
Luka had already shed his robe.
It was puddled at his feet like a fallen flag. He stood completely naked in the center of the room, the morning light from the window carving the lines of his abdomen and thighs. And he was fully, imposingly erect. His cock, a prominent nine inches, stood thick and straight against his stomach, the shaft visibly veined and taut. The head was a flushed, broad dome, already glistening at the tip. It was an assertive sight, devoid of any invitation, a simple statement of fact.
Her breath caught. A slow blush warmed her neck, spreading to her cheeks. She knew this script. The shower had been one act; this was the next.
Without a word, she let her own robe slip from her shoulders. It whispered to the floor, joining his. The air was cool on her skin, raising goosebumps over her arms and across her large C-cup breasts. She moved towards him, her steps quiet on the polished floor.
She sank to her knees before him. The perspective was daunting. Up close, the sheer size of him was more apparent—the girth that stretched her, the length that promised a deep, bruising reach. He watched her, golden eyes half-lidded, a faint, approving smile on his lips.
Leaning forward, she used her hands to press her breasts together, creating a soft, warm channel of cleavage. She guided him into it, the hot, hard flesh of him a stark contrast to her own softness. She began to move, rocking gently, using the smooth skin of her chest to glide along his length. At the same time, she tilted her head and took the head of his cock into her mouth, her tongue swirling over the sensitive tip.
A low, gratified sigh escaped him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a rough scrape. His hands came to rest on the back of her head, not forcing, but present. The dual stimulation—the tight, wet heat of her mouth and the silken pressure of her breasts—made him swell even further in her grasp. His penis grew harder, the veins more pronounced, a living, pulsing weight against her tongue and skin.
He let this continue for a few minutes, his breathing deepening. Then his fingers tightened in her pink hair. “Enough,” he said, the word soft but absolute.
He pulled her up by her arms and guided her the few steps to the bed, pushing her back onto the disheveled sheets. He followed her down, his body covering hers, and without preamble, guided himself inside. She gasped, her back arching as he filled her, that familiar, stretching fullness both painful and profound.
Her legs came up, locking around his lower back, ankles crossing. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, trying to match his rhythm, to absorb him completely. As he thrust, each drive going deeper, she moaned into the crook of his neck. Her body clenched around him involuntarily, a tight, internal flutter that grew stronger with each plunge.
He groaned, the sound strained and genuine. A blush of effort rose on his own cheeks. “Fuck, Mizi,” he panted against her ear. “You’re squeezing me alive.” The sensation seemed to ignite him further. His movements became more forceful, more dominant, each thrust a deliberate claiming of the space within her. The bedframe tapped a steady, frantic rhythm against the wall.
His control was fraying, his breath coming in harsh gasps. She could feel the coiling tension in his hips, the rigid way he held himself. With a final, deep drive that made her cry out, he pulled out of her completely.
He was on his knees between her legs, his huge, glistening cock in his hand. A hoarse, guttural cry was torn from him as the first pulse hit. A thick stripe of cum landed on her lower stomach. The second hit her ribs. He shuddered, his body bowing with the force of his release, and shot across her breasts. The fourth, fifth, and sixth pulses streaked her collarbone and neck. The seventh landed on her chin. As the eighth and final spurt came, he aimed it at her parted lips, some of it catching her mouth, the rest painting her cheek.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. The air smelled of sex and salt and exertion.
He collapsed beside her, onto his back, his chest heaving. A fine sheen of sweat coated both their bodies. After a minute, he reached over, his hand finding hers. He guided her small, trembling hand to his softening cock, wrapping her fingers around it. It was still impressively large, even in its spent state, heavy and warm in her palm, wet with both their fluids.
She blushed furiously, her fingers curling lightly around him. She could feel the residual, powerful throb of his pulse there.
“Feel that?” he said, his voice lazy now, sated. “All for you.” He turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “You did good. You take it all so well.” He said it like a review of a performance, a satisfied assessment of a tool perfectly fit for its purpose.
Her thumb moved in a tiny, almost unconscious stroke over his sensitive skin. She was silently amazed at the sheer volume he’d released, the physical proof of his capacity marking her skin. She was stunned, too, by the profound, satisfied weight of him in her hand—the very real, visceral evidence of his satisfaction, which was, in his economy, her reward.
“It’s… a lot,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He chuckled, a low, rich sound. “Got to be, for a girl like you.” He shifted onto his side, propping his head on his hand, looking down at the mess on her torso and face with a sort of proud ownership. “Don’t move. I like seeing it on you.”