Chapter 28: The Claim
The slam of their bedroom door echoed like a gunshot in the sudden quiet, cutting off Katya’s distant, amused shout. Alexey didn’t pause. He strode across the soft rug, Sharon’s weight solid and yielding in his arms, her breath hot against his neck. The faint scent of jasmine, usually calming, now felt thick, cloying, intensifying the frantic energy crackling between them. He didn't lower her gently. He practically dropped her onto the silk-covered bed, the mattress sighing under her sudden weight. Her dark hair fanned out, eyes wide and dark, fixed on him with that unnerving, knowing intensity.
"Clothes," he rasped, the word ripped from somewhere raw. His fingers fumbled with the hem of her soft sweater, trembling with adrenaline and need. "Off. Now."
Sharon didn't hesitate. She arched her back, helping him peel the sweater up and over her head, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the generous swell of her F-cup breasts spilling from her lace bra. Her fingers flew to the button of her jeans, shimmying them down her hips, kicking them off along with her underwear in one frantic motion. She lay back, gloriously naked, bathed in the soft light filtering through the silk curtains. Her skin glowed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "All yours," she breathed, spreading her legs slightly, an open invitation. "Take it."
Alexey tore at his own clothes, buttons popping, fabric straining. His jeans pooled around his ankles, kicked aside. His erection sprang free, thick and flushed, straining upward. He didn't kneel beside her. Didn't kiss her. He grabbed her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, and hauled her roughly towards him, flipping her onto her stomach with surprising strength. Her startled gasp was muffled by the pillow.
He climbed onto the bed behind her, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of her spread thighs. The view was primal: the lush curve of her ass, the glistening wetness already slicking her inner thighs, the vulnerable dip of her lower back. His cock throbbed, aching. He gripped her hips again, pulling her ass back onto him. No preamble. No gentle entry. He guided the thick head of his cock to her soaked entrance and drove forward in one hard, deep thrust.
"Fuck!" Sharon cried out, her voice muffled, her body arching, pushing back against him instinctively. "Yes! Like that!"
He groaned, a low, guttural sound ripped from his chest. The tight, wet heat engulfing him was almost painful, perfect agony. He pulled back, almost completely out, then slammed forward again, burying himself to the hilt. Her body yielded, gripping him fiercely. Again. And again. He set a brutal, piston-like rhythm, hips snapping forward, driving into her prone body with raw, possessive force. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, sharp counterpoint to their ragged breathing. He leaned forward, bracing one hand beside her head, the other gripping her hipbone hard enough to bruise. His gaze fixed on the point where their bodies joined, watching his cock disappear into her slickness with each punishing thrust.
"Feel it?" he growled, his voice thick with exertion and something darker. "Feel me? Inside you?" He drove deeper, grinding against her ass. "Mine."
"Yours!" she gasped, turning her head sideways, cheek pressed to the pillow. Her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth open. "Fuck! Harder! Hammer me!" Her fingers clawed at the silk sheets. "Fill me!"
He obeyed. The rhythm became relentless, almost savage. The bed frame creaked in protest. Sweat slicked his back, dripped onto hers. He focused solely on the sensation – the incredible friction, the tight clasp of her body, the primal satisfaction of claiming her, dominating her, driving out the phantom images of Mark, of Katya’s laughter, of the thick cock on the phone screen. This was possession. This was annihilation. His balls tightened, the pressure coiling unbearably low. He gritted his teeth, hips pistoning faster, harder, chasing the peak with desperate urgency.
"Sharon!" His voice cracked. "Gonna... gonna cum!"
"Cum!" she screamed, her body bucking wildly beneath him. "Inside! Fill me! Now!"
The command shattered his control. With a roar that felt ripped from his soul, he slammed home one final time, burying himself impossibly deep. His cock pulsed violently, thick jets of cum erupting deep inside her, flooding her warmth. He shuddered violently, collapsing forward slightly, his forehead pressing between her shoulder blades, gasping for air. The world narrowed to the frantic pounding of his heart and the pulsing release still echoing through his spent cock.
He stayed buried inside her for long moments, breathing hard, the aftershocks trembling through him. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled out. A slick trail followed him, glistening on her flushed skin. He stared down at her, at the mess he’d made. His cum seeped from her swollen entrance, pooling slightly on the silk sheet beneath her thighs. The sight, raw and intimate, sent a fresh, unexpected jolt through him – not arousal, but something deeper, stranger. Possession mingled with a visceral need to reclaim even this.
Without conscious thought, driven by instinct, he slid down her body. He gripped her hips again, spreading her cheeks wider. He lowered his head. His tongue, hot and broad, swept through the slick mess, tasting her tangy arousal mixed thickly with his own salty release. He licked deep, lapping at her entrance, gathering the creamy fluid onto his tongue. The taste was primal, musky, intensely hers and his combined.
Sharon gasped, her body tensing anew. "Alexey... oh god..." Her voice was thick, stunned.
He ignored her, focused solely on the task. He licked her clean, thoroughly, insistently, his tongue delving inside her, swirling around her sensitive flesh, gathering every drop. The intimacy was shocking, more profound than the frantic fucking. He was consuming his own claim, erasing the evidence only to absorb it completely. Her hips began to rock subtly against his mouth, a low moan escaping her lips. He felt her inner muscles flutter, tightening around nothing. He pressed his tongue harder, faster, circling her clit now, rough and demanding.
"Fuck... yes..." she whimpered, her fingers twisting in the sheets again. "Don't stop... oh god..." Her breath hitched, became ragged gasps. Her thighs trembled. "I'm... I'm gonna..."
Her orgasm hit her silently at first, a deep, internal clenching he felt against his tongue. Then a sharp cry tore from her throat as her body arched violently, pressing her pussy harder against his mouth. He held her there, licking her through the tremors, swallowing her release mixed with his own, until her body finally went limp, shuddering with aftershocks.
He lifted his head, breathing heavily, his chin slick. He looked up her body. She was turned towards him now, propped on one elbow, watching him with dark, dilated eyes. Her lips were parted, her chest heaving. Sweat glistened on her skin. There was no triumph in her gaze, only a deep, fathomless hunger. And something else – a fierce, possessive satisfaction.
"Turn over," she commanded, her voice husky but firm. "On your back. Now."
Still buzzing from the aftershocks of his own release and the intense intimacy of what he'd just done, Alexey obeyed. He rolled onto his back, the silk cool against his heated skin. His cock, spent and softening, lay against his thigh. He watched her, chest rising and falling.
Sharon moved with predatory grace. She swung one long, toned leg over his chest, straddling him. Not over his hips, but higher. She settled her weight directly onto his face, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his head. Her thick, dark curls brushed his forehead. The warm, musky scent of her arousal and their combined release filled his nostrils, overwhelming. Her swollen, glistening pussy hovered inches above his mouth.
"Open," she ordered, her voice low and thick.
He opened his mouth, tilting his head back slightly. She lowered herself slowly, deliberately, pressing her wet heat against his lips, his tongue. She groaned, a deep, satisfied sound, as his tongue instinctively sought her entrance, licking the lingering traces of their coupling. Then she began to move. Not gently. Not teasingly. She ground herself down onto his face, using his mouth with ruthless efficiency. Her hips rolled, pressing her clit hard against his nose, her entrance demanding his tongue delve deep inside her again.
"Yeah," she hissed, her hands gripping the headboard behind her for leverage. "Lick me. Taste us." She rode his face hard, her thighs squeezing against the sides of his head, powerful muscles flexing. "All of it."
Alexey groaned, the sound muffled against her flesh. The pressure was intense. Her thighs pressed firmly against his temples, her weight settling more fully onto his mouth and nose. Breathing became difficult, labored through his nostrils. The scent and taste consumed him. Her movements were demanding, rhythmic, seeking her own pleasure relentlessly on his features. He felt the ridge of her clit dragging over his upper lip, the softness of her inner lips against his chin. He licked and sucked, driven by her commands and the intoxicating, suffocating intimacy. Her thighs tightened further, a deliberate, powerful squeeze.
"Growl for me," she commanded, grinding down harder. "Let me feel it."
He tried. A choked, guttural sound vibrated in his throat, muffled by her flesh. It pleased her. She moaned, her movements becoming more frantic. "Louder!" She leaned forward slightly, shifting her weight, pressing his face deeper into her. Her thighs clamped down like a vise, cutting off his air almost completely. Panic flickered, sharp and bright, beneath the haze of sensation. He couldn't breathe. His hands flew up instinctively, gripping her thick thighs, trying to push, to create space.
She laughed, a dark, breathless sound. "No," she gasped, grinding harder, faster. "You love this. You need it." Her thighs squeezed tighter, relentless. Stars danced behind his closed eyelids. The lack of air mixed horribly, wonderfully, with the overwhelming sensory assault – her taste, her scent, the rhythmic pressure, the wet heat smothering him. He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter wildly against his tongue. Her breathing hitched, became ragged gasps above him. She was close. The pressure on his head intensified to an unbearable degree. He managed another strangled growl, vibrating against her core.
It tipped her over. With a sharp, wordless cry, Sharon slammed herself down onto his face one final time, her thighs locking in a crushing grip as her orgasm ripped through her. He felt the powerful contractions pulsing against his tongue, the wetness flooding his mouth. He swallowed convulsively, desperately, as her body shuddered violently above him. Just as the edges of his vision started to tunnel into blackness, the terrible, wonderful pressure released.
She collapsed forward, her weight lifting off his face. Cool air rushed into his burning lungs. He gasped, coughing, sucking in huge, ragged breaths. His face was soaked, dripping. Sharon slumped sideways onto the bed beside him, panting heavily, her skin flushed and gleaming. She turned her head towards him, her dark eyes hazy with satisfaction, a slow, utterly spent smile spreading across her face, deepening her dimples. One hand reached out, fingers tracing the wetness on his cheek, his chin.
"See?" she murmured, her voice thick and drowsy. "Told you you loved it." Her thumb brushed his lower lip. "Breathe, lyubimyi. Just breathe." She nestled closer, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder, her leg thrown possessively over his thigh.
The silence hummed, thick with the smell of sweat, sex, and Sharon’s lingering jasmine scent. Her head rested heavy on his shoulder, her breathing still ragged against his skin, the possessive weight of her leg pinning his thigh. Alexey stared at the silk canopy above, his own breath slowly evening out, the frantic pounding of his heart a fading drumbeat against his ribs. Every nerve felt scraped raw, saturated. Her fingertip traced the sticky path of her own arousal and his spend drying on his lower lip, the touch feather-light, almost possessive. He flinched, the sensation too much, too soon.
She tilted her head on his shoulder, her dark eyes studying his profile in the dim light. Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth again, lingering. "Deep breaths, Alex," she murmured, her voice husky, wrecked. "You did good." A faint, satisfied smile touched her lips, deepening her dimple. Her hand drifted lower, sliding lazily down his damp chest, over the flat plane of his stomach slick with sweat.
Her fingers traced the sharp line of his hipbone, then dipped lower, brushing the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He tensed, a fresh jolt of sensation sparking through the haze of exhaustion. Her touch wasn't demanding, just… exploring. Remembering. It skirted the base of his spent cock, a ghost of contact that made him suck in a breath. He felt it stir, a traitorous, half-hearted twitch against his thigh, responding to the sheer proximity of her, to the echo of her command still vibrating in his bones. He closed his eyes, willing it down, craving only the peace of oblivion.
Sharon felt the subtle shift, the slight thickening beneath her wandering fingers. Her exploring touch stilled. She lifted her head slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look down the length of his body. Her gaze fixed on his cock, lying flaccid against his thigh. Then, slowly, inevitably, it began to thicken, filling out, rising with a stubborn, aching insistence. A slow, amused smile spread across her face, lighting her eyes. She watched it swell, the flushed head emerging, glistening faintly in the low light.
Her chuckle was low, warm, and utterly knowing. "Look at you," she breathed, her voice laced with affectionate mockery. She reached out, not to stroke, but to tap the very tip of the burgeoning hardness with a single, sharp fingertip. It twitched violently under the contact. She tapped it again, her amusement deepening. "Still so eager, even after all that?" She tilted her head, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she considered the straining flesh. "Honestly, Leshka. Such stamina." Her fingertip flicked upwards, a sharp, almost dismissive snap against the sensitive head. “Only if you were bigger…”
Alexey gasped, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth. The flick sent a bolt of painful-pleasure straight to his core. He jerked, hips lifting off the bed involuntarily. He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze, a mixture of bafflement and dawning humiliation flooding him. Why? Why now?
Sharon’s eyes sparkled with pure, iridescent mischief. She leaned in, her smile widening into a grin that showcased her dimples, utterly captivating and utterly cruel. "At least that guy gets it!" she giggled, the sound bright and sharp as breaking glass. Her fingertip flicked the head of his cock again, harder this time. "Always ready!"
The sharp flick against his sensitive flesh made Alexey gasp, hips jerking off the silk sheets. Humiliation burned hot beneath Sharon’s teasing gaze, mixing violently with the raw arousal still buzzing in his veins. Her bright giggle, echoing her earlier comment about Mark’s readiness, felt like salt rubbed into the wound.
"Always ready!" Sharon chirped, tapping the flushed head again, her dimples deep. "Unlike some fish-holding disasters." She leaned closer, her breath warm on his straining cock. "Poor Cucky. Trying so hard." Her fingertip traced a slow, maddening circle around the crown. "But size matters, doesn't it? For...impact."
Alexey flinched, turning his face away, staring blindly at the silk canopy. The words landed like physical blows, twisting the confusing knot of shame and desire tighter in his gut. He felt exposed, ridiculous, his body betraying him long after his mind screamed for respite. Her touch, light and mocking, was torture. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched against the sting.
Suddenly, her weight shifted. The mattress dipped as she straddled his hips, her warm, slick heat settling against his lower stomach. Her hands landed firmly on his chest, fingers splayed. He opened his eyes, wary, meeting hers. The playful cruelty was gone, replaced by a fierce, startling tenderness. Her dark eyes searched his face, seeing everything – the hurt beneath the stoicism, the confusion warring with need.
She leaned down, pressing her forehead hard against his, her vibrant hair falling around them like a curtain. "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH LESHKA!" Her voice softened, urgent, sincere. "You know I only say those things about your cock as a role playing, right?" Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones. "I see how much you enjoying a little teasing and humiliation. The way you tense... the way your eyes darken..." She kissed his forehead, hard. "THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOUR COCK OR YOUR PERFORMANCE IN BED!" Her declaration was fierce, protective. "IT’S ACTUALLY QUITE IMPRESSIVE! YOU’RE SO PASSIONATE AND ATTENTIVE LOVER, SERIOUSLY.”
The sudden shift, the raw honesty in her voice, punched through Alexey’s defenses. The tightness in his chest eased fractionally. He searched her face, the familiar warmth, the deep dimples now softened with affection, not mockery. The lingering sting of her words began to dissolve, replaced by a dawning understanding. She saw him. Truly saw him, the hidden cravings, the shame, and loved him fiercely because of it, not despite it.
He swallowed, his throat tight. "Role play?" he rasped, the words rough. "The... size? The readiness?"
"Just pushing buttons," she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Your buttons. Because I know what they do." Her hand slid down his stomach, fingers wrapping gently but firmly around the base of his still-hard cock. She gave him a slow, deliberate stroke, her touch now claiming, reassuring, not mocking. "Feel that?" she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "That's real. That's yours. That's mine." She squeezed gently. "And tomorrow?" Her voice dropped lower, husky with promise. "Watching me sip coffee? Talk to him?" She stroked him again, slow and possessive. "That fire in your belly? That ache?" She kissed his jaw. "That's ours too. Fuel."
Her words, her touch, reignited the complex cocktail of dread and desire. The image of Sharon across the table from Mark flashed again, sharp and vivid. But now, intertwined with the possessive fury, was the undeniable pull Sharon described – the terrifying edge she promised. His cock pulsed thickly in her hand, responding to her words, her possession, the terrifying promise of tomorrow. He groaned, his hand covering hers on his shaft, pressing it tighter against him. The precipice loomed, terrifying and irresistible. Sharon smiled against his skin, feeling the tremor run through him, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him. Balanced on the edge, utterly hers.