Chapter 1: Introduction
The air in The Rusty Bolt was thick with the smell of spilled beer, cheap cologne, and the faint, ever-present tang of industrial cleaner. Neon lights from a broken sign outside pulsed a shaky crimson through the grimy front window, painting the faces of the after-work crowd in fleeting strokes of red. Damon Delaney’s frame dominated his corner of the bar, his shoulders so broad they seemed to carve a peaceful clearing in the chatter around him.
“Sweet mother of god, Damon. You sand that deck with your bare hands again?”
Katrina Belle leaned over the bar, her top straining as she wiped a glass. Her eyes, the colour of good whiskey, danced with familiar mischief as they roamed over Damon’s arms. The worn flannel shirt he wore was rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle, dusted with blonde hair and a fine sprinkle of sawdust.
Damon looked down, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face. He flexed, just a little. The muscle in his forearm jumped, a solid ridge under tan skin. “Nah. Just the usual. Built some bookshelves for Mrs. Henderson.” His voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder.
“Just the usual,” Katrina parroted, giggling. She reached out and gave his bicep a firm, appreciative squeeze. “Jesus. It’s like grabbing a ham. A really, really nice ham.” She didn’t let go. People rarely did. “You know, these could be put to better use than holding up lumber. A woman could have fun with arms like that.”
Damon’s smile turned sheepish. He knew what she meant, sort of. Girls at bars always said things like that. They’d touch his arms, his chest, once a drunk guy even patted his ass and muttered about ‘structural integrity.’ He never minded. It was nice to be appreciated.
The front door swung open, cutting through the humid bar air with a gust from the street. Frankie Moretti stepped in, his eyes scanning the room like a radar. He spotted Damon and his slick, trouble-making grin appeared instantly.
“Talk of the devil,” Katrina murmured, finally releasing Damon’s arm. She watched Frankie weave his way towards them, his tailored shirt looking out of place among the plaid and denim.
“Damon. My main man. Looking jacked, brother. Absolutely jacked.” Frankie clapped a hand on Damon’s back, a sound like a muffled drumbeat. “Katrina, darling, a gin, clean. I’m parched.”
“What do you want, Frankie?” Katrina asked, pouring his drink but not taking her eyes off him.
“Can’t a guy visit his favourite bartender and his favourite human forklift?” Frankie took the glass, his rings clicking against it. He took a sip, his eyes settling on Damon. “I do, as it happens, have a situation. A little problem that requires a… certain touch. A persuasive touch.”
Katrina snorted. “Here we go. What is it this time? A ‘stuck’ delivery truck you need ‘unstuck’?”
“A business associate,” Frankie said, waving a hand. “Owes me for some parts. Quality parts. He’s developed a hearing problem whenever I call. I think a face-to-face reminder is in order. From someone with a… memorable presence.”
Damon listened, his large, capable hands resting flat on the sticky bar. “You want me to go talk to him?”
“See? He gets it.” Frankie beamed at Katrina. “Just talk. Your presence is the message. You stand there, looking like you do—like you could tear a phone book in half with your ass cheeks—and he’ll remember his obligations. It’s a public service.”
Damon nodded, his expression earnest. He liked helping. “Sure, Frankie. I can do that. When?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll text you the address.” Frankie knocked back the rest of his gin, winked at Katrina, and melted back into the crowd, his mission accomplished.
Katrina stared at Damon, a mixture of affection and exasperation on her face. “You know he’s using you, right? That ‘business associate’ is probably some scared kid Frankie strong-armed into a bad deal.”
“He’s a friend,” Damon said simply, finishing his beer.
“He’s a parasite who knows a good thing when he sees it.” She leaned in closer, the neckline of her top gaping slightly. Damon’s eyes flickered down, then quickly back to her face, a blush warming his neck. She saw it. “You’re too good for his crap, Damon. You should be using that god-given body for way more fun things.”
Her voice had dropped, a husky note threading through it. She came around the bar, taking his empty bottle. Her hip brushed against his knee. “Bar’s dead. Rico can close up.” She didn’t move away. “My place is two blocks over. I’ve got a ceiling fan that’s been wobbling for a month. Scares the hell out of my cat.”
“I can fix that,” Damon said immediately, the prospect of a straightforward task brightening his face.
“I bet you can,” she purred, grabbing her leather jacket from behind the bar. “Come on, carpenter. Let’s see what else you’re good at.”
Her apartment was small, cluttered with plants and vintage concert posters. The promised ceiling fan was, indeed, wobbling on a low setting. Damon had it stabilized in under three minutes, tightening a loose screw with the careful, focused precision he applied to everything.
“All done,” he said, stepping down from the chair.
Katrina was right behind him. She hadn’t been watching the fan. “Not even close to all done,” she whispered.
She placed her hands on the monumental curve of his lower back, fingers spreading over solid muscle. He froze, a slight tremor running through him. “Katrina…”
“Shhh.” She walked her fingers up the knotted column of his spine, under his flannel shirt. “All day, I watch people look at you. They see the packaging. I want to see what’s inside.”
She turned him around. Her eyes were dark, no longer playful but intensely focused. They locked onto his mouth before flicking down to the bulge straining the denim of his jeans. Damon’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with sudden, sharp pulls.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked, voice rough.
Katrina answered by pressing her body against his, the soft give of her tits flattening against his chest, her hands curling into the thick fabric of his shirt. “I’m not asking.” Her lips found the pulse point at the base of his throat, her tongue flicking out to taste his skin. “I’m telling.”
Damon groaned, deep and involuntary, his hands settling on her waist, fingers flexing against the curve of her hips. She gripped his shirt and tore it open with a sharp jerk, buttons scattering like buckshot. The flannel gave way, revealing his broad chest, a mat of golden-blonde hair tapering down his stomach in a happy trail that disappeared into his jeans.
Katrina’s nails raked over his pecs, drawing tiny red tracks. “Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed, biting his nipple hard enough to make him jerk.
Damon hissed, his cock twitching violently against his fly. He grabbed her ass, hefting her off the ground like she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up to bunch around her hips.
The heat of her pussy pressed against the thick ridge of his cock through the denim, the friction making both of them groan. Damon staggered toward the couch, muscles bunching under her grip, her tits pressed against his chest like two heavy melons trapped between their bodies, nipples hard as pebbles digging into his pecs.
He dropped her onto the cushions with a grunt, landing between her thighs as she sprawled open beneath him. She flipped their positions, her hands slamming against his chest shoving him down into the couch with bruising force. The firm muscles of her thighs bracketed his hips, the heat of her pussy a furnace through the thin fabric of her panties.
Katrina locked her stare onto his, her lips peeled back in a snarl. “You’re going to fuck me so hard I won’t walk straight tomorrow.” She shoved her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, yanking the zipper down with a metallic rasp. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, the head already glistening with pre-cum. She wrapped her fist around his shaft, pumping once, twice, the slick slide of flesh loud in the quiet apartment.
“You’re fucking *huge*,” she breathed, her thumb swiping over the swollen head, smearing the thick bead of pre-cum down his length. “I’ve seen you in those tight jeans, but *fuck*, Damon. This is—” She bit her lip, her grip tightening. “This is *perfect*.”
Damon groaned, his hips jerking up into her touch, the muscles in his thighs tensing like steel cables. His cock throbbed in her hand, the veins pulsing under her fingers, the heat of it almost scalding. He reached for her, his big hands sliding up her thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass. His abs clenched, the muscles in his abdomen tightening as she stroked him, her grip firm and demanding. A growl rumbled in his chest, low and animalistic as her thumb circled the swollen head of his cock, spreading the clear fluid beading at the tip. His hips bucked up involuntarily, thrusting into her fist, a groan tearing from his throat. "Fuck, Katrina—"
She cut him off with a sharp twist of her wrist, making his breath hitch. "No talking. Just *feel* it." Her voice was rough, dripping with command. She shifted, dragging her panties aside just enough to expose her slick, pink folds.
She leaned forward to lick his nipple again, her tongue swirling around the tight bud before she bit down hard enough to make him gasp. "You're going to fuck me like you mean it," she growled against his skin. "I want you to ruin me."
Katrina didn’t wait for an answer. She gripped his cock, guiding the thick head between her folds, the swollen tip parting her lips with a wet sound. The first inch stretched her wide, her pussy clenching around him as she sank down slowly, her breath hitching with each inch that disappeared inside her.
Damon’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he watched his cock vanish between her thighs. Her walls were tight, slick, and so fucking hot that he could feel the heat radiating through his shaft, making his balls draw up tight against his body.
“Fuck—” Katrina hissed, her nails raking down his chest as she took another inch, her pussy stretching obscenely around his girth. “You’re *so fucking big*.”
Damon groaned, his hips twitching upward, pushing himself deeper. “You can take it,” he growled, his voice rough with need.
His grip on her hips tightened, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he pulled her down harder, forcing another thick inch inside her. Katrina’s breath hitched, her pussy clenching around his cock as she took him deeper, her walls stretching to accommodate his massive girth.
“Fuck—*fuck*, Damon—” she gasped, her nails digging into his chest as she rocked her hips, grinding down on him. The friction was insane, her pussy slick and tight, her inner walls fluttering around his shaft as she took him deeper with each slow, deliberate roll of her hips.
Damon’s cock throbbed inside her, the veins pulsing against her sensitive flesh.
Every slow roll of Katrina’s hips dragged another desperate groan from his throat, his abs tightening as he fought the urge to flip her onto her back and pound himself to the root inside her. But she had other plans.
She broke the rhythm, shifting to straddle his thighs, her weight pressing down as she squeezed her thighs together around his waist. Her pussy clutched him like a vice, the heat of her body enveloping him so completely he could feel her pulse thrumming against his cock. Katrina leaned forward, her tits pressing against his chest as her tongue traced the shell of his ear.
“You like being inside me, don’t you, big guy?” she whispered, her voice a filthy purr.
“You like stretching me open, don’t you? Making me feel every fucking inch of you?” Her teeth grazed his earlobe before she nipped down, hard enough to make him jerk. “You’re *ruining* me, Damon. And I’m gonna make sure you *never* forget this.”
Her thighs flexed, her muscles locking around his waist as she began to ride him, slow at first—a teasing roll of her hips that made his cock twitch inside her. The wet sound of their bodies coming together filled the room, wetter than he’d ever heard before, the slick slap of flesh against flesh punctuated by Katrina’s ragged breathing and Damon’s guttural groans.
She rode him like she was starving, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that made his cock pulse inside her, stretching her open in a way that had her biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Fuck—*fuck*—” Katrina gasped, her nails dragging down his chest, leaving red, angry lines in their wake. “You’re *so deep*—*Jesus Christ*—”
Damon’s hands clamped onto her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he forced her down harder onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt. Katrina cried out, her back arching, her tits bouncing with every rough thrust. He yanked at her top , tearing the fabric until her breasts spilled free—heavy, round, the nipples hard and dark. Damon groaned, his mouth latching onto one, sucking hard, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak while his cock pistoned up into her, the wet, obscene sounds of their bodies slapping together echoing in the room.
“Fuck—*fuck*—” Katrina gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rode him harder, her pussy clenching around his cock like a vise. “You feel so *good*—*so fucking good*—”
Damon growled against her skin, his hands gripping her hips so tight he was sure he’d leave bruises. He flipped her onto her back, the couch creaking under their combined weight as he loomed over her, his massive frame casting a shadow over her body. His cock, slick with her arousal, throbbed against her thigh, the swollen head glistening with her juices.
Katrina’s legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back as she pulled him closer. “Don’t you *dare* stop,” she hissed, her voice rough with need. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
Damon didn’t need to be told twice. He drove into her with one brutal thrust, his cock sinking to the hilt inside her tight, wet pussy.
The sound that tore from his throat was raw, guttural—a noise so primal it made Katrina’s back arch off the couch, her tits bouncing wildly as he filled her completely.
"Fuck—*Jesus Christ*—" she gasped, her nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood. Her pussy clenched around him, her walls fluttering in shock at how deep he went. "You *fucking* monster—"
Damon didn’t slow down. He pulled back and slammed into her again, his hips snapping forward with a force that made the couch groan beneath them. His balls swung heavy, slapping against her ass with every punishing thrust. The way his body moved was pure, animalistic power—his thick thighs flexing, his abs clenching as he drove into her again and again. Katrina’s pussy was so wet it dripped down her ass, the slick sounds of their fucking filling the room.
“You’re *fucking* me like a goddamn *machine*,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. “Don’t—*don’t you fucking stop*—”
Damon didn’t. He couldn’t. He looked obscene
above her, his huge body glistening with sweat, veins standing out in his arms, his cock buried to the root inside her. The couch creaked under them, threatening to collapse as he pounded into her, his heavy balls swinging between his legs with every brutal thrust.
Katrina’s pussy was a slick, tight tunnel around his shaft, her walls fluttering as he stretched her open. She could feel every ridge of his cock, every thick vein pulsing against her sensitive flesh. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, the sound obscene and raw, punctuated by their ragged breaths.
She glanced between them , watching his cock slide in and out of her, slick with her juices, the heavy veins throbbing with every brutal thrust. "Fuck, you're *huge*," she gasped, her voice thick with lust. "I can *feel* you in my *throat*."
Damon growled, his hips snapping forward with a force that made the couch shudder beneath them. His cock pistoned in and out of her tight, dripping pussy, the wet sounds of their fucking echoing through the room. He could feel her walls clenching around him, her pussy fluttering with every thrust, her juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls. He pulled out and forced her onto her stomach , her ass in the air. She was already wet, her thighs slick with her arousal, and he didn’t hesitate. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, and drove into her again, his cock sinking to the hilt.
Katrina screamed into the couch cushions, her fingers clawing at the fabric as he bottomed out inside her. "Fuck—*fuck*—you’re *ripping* me apart," she gasped, her voice muffled by the cushions. But she didn’t tell him to stop. She pushed back against him, her ass grinding against his hips as she took every brutal inch.
Damon’s grip on her hips tightened, his fingers leaving red marks on her skin. He pushed her down further into the couch, his chest pressing against her back, his weight anchoring her as he drove into her with relentless force. The angle was brutal—every deep thrust landed right against her g-spot, sending sharp, electric pleasure shooting through her body.
Katrina’s fingers clawed at the cushions, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. "Fuck—*fuck*, Damon—you’re *destroying* me—"
His cock swelled inside her, throbbing with every thrust, stretching her wider than she’d ever been before. She could feel how his body rolled above hers, the way his muscles flexed as he pounded into her, the heavy weight of his balls slapping against her clit with every brutal snap of his hips.
She could imagine how he looked —his massive frame looming over her, his broad shoulders and thick arms bulging with every thrust, sweat dripping down his chest and abs, his cock buried to the root inside her tight, dripping pussy. The thought alone made her clench around him, her walls fluttering as she took every inch of his monstrous length.
She couldn’t move . Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but let him *fuck her into the couch*, his cock stretching her so wide she could feel the burn in her thighs, the way her pussy struggled to take him.
Damon’s breath was hot against her ear, his voice a rough growl. “You like that, don’t you? Like how deep I go. Like how *big* I am.”
Katrina whimpered, her nails tearing into the couch cushions. “Fuck—*fuck*—yes, I *love* it—”
His hips snapped forward again, his cock slamming into her with a wet, obscene sound.
Katrina’s breath hitched, her body arching beneath him as he bottomed out, his heavy balls slapping against her clit with a sharp, stinging impact. The couch groaned under their weight, the frame creaking dangerously as he fucked her into the cushions, his thick cock stretching her pussy so wide she could feel the burn in her thighs.
“You’re *so fucking big*,” she gasped, her voice raw with need. “I can *feel* you in my *stomach*—”
Damon growled, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises.
He pulled out in one brutal, wet *slurp*, his cock glistening with her arousal, the thick head already darkening with need. Katrina whimpered as the air hit her empty pussy, the sudden absence making her clench around nothing, desperate for more.
He flipped her onto her back again, climbing up her body to press his cock to her lips .
"Open," Damon rumbled, his voice low and commanding.
Katrina obeyed instantly, her mouth parting for him, her tongue flicking over the swollen head. She tasted herself on him—musky and sweet—and moaned around his thickness. Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in as he fed her inch after inch.
His cock was too big for her to take all of him, but she tried anyway, gagging when he hit the back of her throat. Tears pricked her eyes, but she didn’t pull back. She hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper, swallowing around the head when he groaned.
She watched his abs clench, the thick muscles of his stomach tightening as he fucked her mouth in slow, deliberate strokes. She could feel the weight of his balls resting against her chin, heavy and full, the soft skin of his sac brushing against her lips with every thrust. His cock pulsed in her mouth, the veins throbbing against her tongue as she swirled it around the swollen head.
"Fuck—Katrina—" Damon groaned, his voice rough and strained. "You look so *good* like this. Taking my cock like a *fucking* champ."
She moaned around him, the vibration making his hips jerk forward, his cock hitting the back of her throat again.
She grabbed his ass , her fingers sinking into the thick, muscular globes, pulling him deeper into her mouth. Her throat fluttered around the head of his cock, her gag reflex fighting against the sheer size of him. She could feel the veins throbbing against her tongue, the heat of his shaft radiating through her lips. Her eyes watered, mascara likely smudging, but she didn’t care. She wanted this. Wanted to feel his cock stretch her throat, wanted to hear him groan and curse as she took him deeper.
Damon’s hands tangled in her hair, his fingers gripping tight as he guided her head up and down his shaft. He wasn’t gentle—he couldn’t be.
The way she was taking him, the way her throat fluttered around his cock, the way her lips stretched obscenely around his girth—it was the most obscene thing he’d ever seen. His hips jerked forward on their own, his cock pistoning between her lips, the head hitting the back of her throat before pulling out in a wet, sloppy glide.
"Fuck, Katrina—*fuck*—" Damon growled, his voice rough as gravel, his hands tightening in her hair. He could feel her throat working around him, could feel the wet heat of her mouth, could see the way her lips clung to his shaft, her spit dripping down his balls.
She pushed him back to tongue the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around the crown, lapping up the thick bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. Her fingers dug into his thighs, her nails leaving red marks in the golden hair dusting his skin. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, her lips swollen and glistening.
"Fuck, you’re *gorgeous*," Damon groaned, his voice rough and low. He reached down to grip her chin, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Look at you. Taking my cock like a *good girl*."
Katrina moaned, her pussy clenching at his words, her thighs slick with her own arousal.
She wanted him inside her again, wanted to feel that thick cock stretching her open, wanted to hear him groan as he fucked her into the couch. But first...
She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock again, her tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge. Damon hissed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. She took him deeper, her throat opening around his girth, her lips stretched obscenely wide. His cock throbbed against her tongue, the veins pulsing with every beat of his heart.
Damon’s breath came in ragged gasps, his abs clenching as he watched his thick length disappear between her lips. Katrina’s hands slid up his thighs, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his ass, pulling him deeper into her mouth.
"Fuck—Katrina—" Damon groaned, his voice a guttural growl. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping tight as he guided her head up and down his shaft. He could feel the wet heat of her mouth, the way her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, the way her throat fluttered around him when she took him deep. His balls drew up tight against his body, the pressure building with every desperate suck.
Katrina hollowed her cheeks, her tongue working the underside of his shaft as he fucked her face in slow, grinding thrusts. She gagged around him, but didn’t pull back—just took him deeper, her throat working in little pulses against the thick head of his cock.
"Fuck—*fuck*—" Damon’s voice was a rough growl, his hips snapping forward in erratic jerks. He could feel her throat fluttering around him, could see the way her tits bounced with every thrust, the way her nipples were hard little points, begging for attention. He was treating her mouth like a fucking pussy, and she was loving it.
Damon’s cock twitched, a thick vein pulsing against her tongue. He was close. Too close. He needed to fuck her again, needed to feel that tight, wet heat gripping him like a vise. He pulled back with a wet *pop*, his cock glistening with her spit, the head swollen and dark.
“Get on your knees,” he growled, his voice rough with need.
Katrina didn’t hesitate. She dropped to the floor, her ass in the air, her pussy already dripping. She looked back at him, her eyes dark with lust, her lips swollen and glistening.
"You going to fuck me like you mean it this time, big guy?"
Damon didn’t answer with words. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, and pulled her back onto his cock in one brutal thrust.
Katrina’s scream was muffled by the couch cushions as he buried himself to the hilt. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, the sound obscene and raw. His cock stretched her open, her pussy fluttering around his girth as he bottomed out inside her.
“Fuck—*fuck*—you’re *so big*,” she gasped, her nails clawing at the couch fabric.
Her back arched, her full tits swinging heavy beneath her as Damon’s hips pistoned against her ass, his thick cock driving into her with wet, obscene sounds.
Damon’s grip on her hips tightened, his fingers leaving red imprints in her skin. The couch groaned under their weight, the frame shuddering with every brutal thrust. His balls swung heavy between his thighs, slapping against her clit with each snap of his hips, the wet sound making her pussy clench around him.
Katrina’s voice was a ragged whisper, her words barely coherent. “God—*you’re gonna make me come*—”
Damon didn’t slow down.
He leaned over her back, his chest pressing against her spine, his weight pinning her to the couch as he drove into her with punishing force. His balls swung heavy, slapping against her clit with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene. Katrina could feel her orgasm building, her pussy fluttering around his cock as he stretched her open, his thick length hitting places inside her that made her vision blur.
“Fuck—*fuck*—” she gasped, her voice raw, her nails clawing at the couch. “You’re *fucking* ruining me—”
Damon growled, his hips snapping forward in erratic jerks, his cock swelling inside her.