Chapter 23: Chapter 23
The footsteps halted outside the door. A knuckle rapped lightly on the wood. "Jake?" Ethan's voice was shredded, tentative.
"Go away."
The doorknob turned, found the lock, and went still. Jake heard the weight of a body sliding down the opposite side of the door, the rustle of sweatpants on hardwood. The silence between them was a third presence, thick and hot.
"Chloe and Mia left," Ethan finally said to the door. "Called a rideshare."
"Great."
"You okay in there?"
Jake let out a wet, humorless sound that wasn’t a laugh. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The taste of bile and rum was a coating on his tongue, in his soul. He flushed the toilet, the roar of water absurdly loud. "Peachy."
Ethan didn’t reply. Jake leaned his head back against the bathtub, the coolness seeping through his hair. He stared at the water-stained ceiling, a different pattern than the one in the bedroom. The world had narrowed to this small, foul-smelling room and the man on the other side of a hollow-core door.
"I'm coming in," Ethan said. A key scraped in the lock.
Jake didn't have the energy to protest. The door swung inward, bumping gently against his foot. Ethan filled the doorway, his large frame silhouetted by the hall light. He looked wrecked. His curls were a chaotic nest, his beard matted, his eyes two dark holes in a pale face. He held a glass of water in one hand.
He stepped over Jake’s legs, his movements careful and deliberate, and set the glass on the edge of the sink. He didn’t speak. He knelt, the old floorboards creaking under his weight, and wet a clean washcloth under the cold tap. The sound of the water was a tiny, domestic cascade.
Ethan wrung it out. He reached for Jake’s face. Jake flinched, a tiny, involuntary spasm. Ethan paused, his hand hovering. He waited. After a long moment, Jake gave a barely perceptible nod.
The cloth was cool and rough. Ethan wiped Jake’s mouth, his chin, his forehead with a shocking, gentle precision. He rinsed the cloth and did it again, clearing the sweat and the sour stickiness. His touch was clinical, but his breath hitched halfway through, a tiny fracture in his composure.
"Thanks," Jake mumbled, his eyes closed.
Ethan didn’t acknowledge it. He stood, his knees popping, and flushed the toilet again even though it was clean. He picked up the glass of water and held it out. "Drink. Slowly."
Jake took it. His hands were shaking. The water was tepid and tasted like pipes, but it washed the worst of the taste away. He sipped, each swallow a conscious effort.
Ethan leaned against the sink, crossing his arms. He looked at the tile wall, at the shower curtain, anywhere but at Jake. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, unforgiving.
"I don't know what that was," Ethan said, his voice low.
"Seemed pretty clear at the time."
"Don't." The word was sharp, a crack of a whip. Ethan ran a hand over his face. "Just don't be clever right now, Jake. I can't take it."
Jake took another sip. The trembling in his hands was migrating inward. "What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. I don't know." Ethan pushed off from the sink and walked out, leaving Jake on the floor.
Jake heard him in the living room, the clink of glass, the rustle of gathering bottles. The domestic cleanup. He finished the water, used the edge of the tub to haul himself up. His reflection in the mirror was a grotesque parody: puffy eyes, pale skin, a smear of something unidentifiable on his cheek. He looked like a stranger who’d been in a fight.
He walked unsteadily into the living room. Ethan was bundling the empty rum bottle into a trash bag with the beer bottles. The evidence. The red plate from his grandmother sat alone on the coffee table, a stark, clean monument in the field of debris.
"We should talk," Jake said. The sentence felt borrowed from a terrible movie.
Ethan cinched the trash bag tight, the plastic screaming. "About what? The weather? The Mets? The logistical details of the trainwreck we just conducted?" He didn't look up.
"About why we did it."
"You wanted to." Ethan finally turned. His expression was flat, closed off. "You said yes. In the club, with your eyes. You said yes."
"I did," Jake admitted, the words ash in his mouth. "But you... you were the one who brought them back. You led it. You watched." He remembered Ethan's face in the dim bedroom light, the intense, hungry focus as he observed. "You loved it."
"For a minute," Ethan shot back, his voice rising. "For one fucking minute, Jake. And then it was just... happening. And you were right there with me." He jabbed a finger toward the hallway. "You were in there, with her, just as much as I was."
"It felt like a performance!" The words erupted from Jake, louder than he intended. "For you. It felt like I was doing it for you. And then it felt like... like nothing. Like I was a ghost."
Ethan went very still. The anger seemed to drain out of him, leaving something exhausted and hollow. "Yeah." He looked at the bag of bottles in his hand as if he'd forgotten it was there. "It did."
The confession hung between them, deflating the argument. The truth was uglier than blame. They had both been actors, and then they had both been spectators to their own debasement.
Jake sank onto the arm of the couch, the fight gone. "What does that mean?"
Ethan let the trash bag drop to the floor with a muffled clink. He walked to the window and pulled the blind aside. Dawn was a dirty grey smear over the brick wall of the adjacent building. "It means I saw how she looked at you. At the club. Like you were a novelty. A 'safe' adventure." He let the blind snap back. "And I wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to prove… I don't know what. That we weren't just cuddly. That we could be that, too."
"Animalistic?" Jake supplied, the word bitter.
"Desired," Ethan corrected softly. He turned around. His eyes were red-rimmed, vulnerable. "Not just tolerated. Not just settled for. But actively, wildly wanted. Even if it was just for a night. Even if it was a lie."
The raw need in his voice was a physical ache in the room. Jake understood it, because he’d felt it too, that flicker in the club—the power of a stranger's gaze. He’d chased it, right off the cliff alongside Ethan.
"Is that what we are?" Jake asked, his voice barely a whisper. "A settlement?"
"No." Ethan crossed the room in two strides, kneeling in front of Jake so they were eye-level. He smelled of sweat, rum, and the faint, faded trace of Chloe's perfume. "You are not a settlement. You are the whole goddamn treaty." He reached for Jake's hands, but stopped, his fingers curling into fists on his own knees. "But the world makes you feel like a compromise. Every day. And sometimes… sometimes you want to scream in its face."
Jake looked at their hands, so close but not touching. The space between them felt charged with the ghost of other touches from hours before. "We screamed in the wrong face," he said. "We just screamed into a mirror."
Ethan bowed his head, a shudder passing through his broad shoulders. "I know." He looked up, his gaze liquid and devastating. "I am so sorry, Jake. I am so, so sorry I led us there."
It wasn't an apology for the act, but for the navigation. For the piloting of their ship onto the rocks. Jake felt his own carefully constructed numbness crumble at the edges. "I followed," he said. "I wanted to be wanted like that, too. Just for a second."
They stayed like that, frozen in the grey dawn light, surrounded by the wreckage of the night. The heat of bodies, the sharp tang of sex and vomit and spilled liquor, still hung in the air, but a different current was moving beneath it now, cold and clear.
Ethan’s hand finally unclenched. He laid it, palm up, on his knee. An offering. A question.
Jake stared at it. He thought of that hand on Chloe’s hip, guiding her. He thought of it holding a glass of water, wiping his face with a tenderness that felt ancient. Slowly, he placed his own trembling hand on top of it. The contact was a shock—simple, warm, and devastatingly familiar.
Ethan’s fingers closed over his, their grip tight, almost painful. "What do we do?" Ethan whispered, his voice raw.
Jake had no answer. He just held on, their joined hands a fragile anchor in the centre of the ruined room. The future was a blank, terrifying wall. But for now, in the silent, aching aftermath, they were still here. They were still holding on.
He looked at their hands, then at Ethan’s face, and saw his own desolation mirrored there. The first true light of morning began to bleed around the blinds, revealing the full, uncomfortable detail of the mess around them. It was a new day, and they had no idea what to do with it.
Then, heavy, uncertain footsteps coming down the hall toward him. The door handle rattled, turned. Ethan stood there, a dark outline against the hallway light, swaying slightly. He looked at Jake on the floor, at the toilet bowl. His face was blank.
“They’re gone,” he said, his voice thick. “I called them a car.”
Jake nodded, the movement making his skull ache. He struggled to his feet, using the edge of the tub for support. He ran the cold water, splashed his face, avoided the mirror. Ethan didn’t move from the doorway, filling the space. The silence between them was a physical mass, swollen and tender.
“We should clean up,” Jake mumbled, words muffled by a towel.
“Yeah.”
They moved through the apartment like ghosts in a shared haunting. Ethan gathered beer bottles, his movements slow and deliberate. Jake stripped the bed, bundling the sour-smelling sheets into a pile in the corner. He found Mia’s silver earring on the nightstand, a cheap, claw-like thing. He held it in his palm for a moment before dropping it into the trash. Every detail was an indictment.
They met in the kitchen, the rum bottle still on the counter. Ethan picked it up, studied the remaining inch of liquid. He didn’t drink it. He just screwed the cap on and put it back in the cabinet with a final, soft click.
“I can’t be in here,” Ethan said, not looking at Jake.
“Where do you want to go?”
Ethan just shrugged, a helpless, loose gesture. The confidence he wore like a second skin was gone, stripped away. What was left was raw and unfamiliar. Jake felt a jolt of terror, deep and cold. He had done this. They had done this together.
They ended up on the fire escape, the rusty metal grating biting into their thighs through their sweatpants. The city air was cool, a relief against their clammy skin. They sat shoulder to shoulder, not speaking, watching the occasional taxi bleed color down the wet street below. The distance between their bodies was microscopic, yet it felt infinite.
“That was a mistake,” Ethan said finally, the words barely audible over the distant hum of traffic.
Jake’s throat tightened. “Which part?”
“All of it.” Ethan rested his forehead against the cold iron rail. “Every single fucking part.”
The truth of it sat between them. Jake wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap, but his hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He was afraid of what he might find if he tried to touch him. The memory of Ethan’s hand in Chloe’s hair flashed, bright and painful.
“We should just… go out,” Ethan said suddenly, lifting his head. His eyes were bloodshot, looking at Jake but not quite seeing him. “Tomorrow. Just get out of this apartment. Go to a club. Like before.”
“Like before?” Jake’s voice cracked.
“No. Not like before.” Ethan shook his head, a quick, frantic motion. “Just you and me. We’ll just dance. Just drink. Reset.”
It was the worst idea Jake had ever heard. It was also the only idea he had. The thought of sitting in the quiet apartment with the ghost of the night and this new, fractured version of Ethan was unbearable. Movement, noise, light—these things promised a kind of anesthesia.
“Okay,” Jake said. “Okay, let’s do it.”
The bass from the speakers wasn’t sound, it was a pressure wave moving through the floor, up through the soles of Jake’s shoes, vibrating his molars. The strobing lights sliced the crowd into frantic, disconnected snapshots—a laughing mouth, a flung-back head, the glint of a glass. He was already drunk, a deep, foundational drunkenness that made the world fluid and slightly smeared at the edges.
Ethan was a furnace of energy beside him, shouting something unintelligible over the music, his face sheened with sweat. He’d been buying rounds of tequila shots since they arrived, his smile wide and relentless. It was his club smile, the one that didn’t touch his eyes. Jake kept drinking to keep up, to match the manic pitch Ethan was setting. Each shot was a small, liquid fire that burned away a layer of the previous night’s film.
“These girls!” Ethan yelled, leaning in so his lips brushed Jake’s ear. His breath was hot and sharp with lime and liquor. He gestured with his chin toward two women dancing nearby. One had black hair cut in a sharp bob, the other a cloud of blonde curls. They were watching them, smiling. “Let’s buy them drinks!”
It wasn’t a question. It was a directive, a next step in a script they were now blindly following. Jake nodded, the motion making the room tilt. He followed Ethan as he shouldered through the press of bodies, all confidence and easy grins again.
The girls were named Sasha and Lexi. Sasha was the one with the dark bob, her eyes sharp and assessing. Lexi’s laughter was high and frequent. The four of them huddled around a small, sticky high-top table as Ethan procected four more shots. The ritual was familiar, the salt, the shot, the suck of lime. Jake’s stomach lurched, but he swallowed it down.
“So you two are, like, a thing?” Sasha asked, her gaze flicking between them. She had to lean in close to be heard.
“Yeah,” Ethan said, slinging an arm around Jake’s shoulders. It felt heavy, proprietary. “A thing.”
“Cute,” Lexi cooed. She placed a hand on Ethan’s forearm. “I love that.”
They danced. It was less dancing than a controlled, griding collision in the middle of the heaving crowd. Sasha pressed her back into Jake’s chest, her movements sinuous and deliberate. He let his hands rest on her hips, felt the slide of her sequined top under his palms. Over her head, he saw Ethan with Lexi, her arms looped around his neck, his face buried in her blonde curls for a moment before he looked up.
Their eyes met across the swirling chaos. Ethan’s expression was unreadable in the fractured light. He gave Jake a slow, deliberate nod. Then he leaned down and kissed Lexi, deeply, his hand cupping the back of her head. The message was clear. The script was rolling. Jake looked down at the dark crown of Sasha’s hair, at the exposed line of her neck. He bent his head and pressed his mouth to her skin. She tasted like salt and perfume.
The tequila turned to vodka sodas, a vague attempt at hydration that did nothing. Time became a series of sensations—the crush of the dance floor, the metallic taste of a shared bottle of water, the blur of the bathroom lights as he pissed, gripping the stall wall for balance. Sasha’s voice in his ear, asking where they lived.
Then they were in a cab, a jolting, nauseating blur of streetlights. Lexi was on Ethan’s lap, giggling. Sasha had her hand high on Jake’s thigh, her head on his shoulder. He stared out the window, watching the city stream by, feeling utterly disconnected from his own body.
Ethan’s apartment door slammed shut behind them, the sudden quiet ringing in Jake’s ears. The only light came from the streetlamp outside, cutting angular shapes across the living room floor. It was the same stage, just a different cast.
“Wow, it’s clean,” Lexi slurred, stumbling toward the couch. She said it like it was a miracle.
Ethan was already at the kitchen counter, pulling a bottle of gin from the cabinet. He didn’t bother with glasses. He took a long pull and handed it to Lexi, who did the same. Sasha took Jake’s hand, her fingers cool. She led him to the bedroom. She didn’t pause at the doorway.
The room was different in the half-dark, the bed remade with plain, clean sheets Jake didn’t recognize. Sasha pushed him onto them and climbed atop him, her hands sliding under his shirt. Her kisses were efficient. He heard the others in the living room, a thump, a low laugh, the clink of the bottle.
He let it happen. He participated. It was easier than thinking, than feeling. Her body was lean where Mia’s had been soft, her movements more practiced. He kept his eyes open, fixed on the ceiling, on that same water stain. It was still there. A permanent witness.
Later, tangled in the new, unfamiliar sheets with Sasha’s even breathing beside him, Jake listened. The apartment was silent. He carefully extricated himself and walked barefoot to the bedroom door.
In the living room, Ethan was asleep in the armchair, his head tilted back at an uncomfortable angle. Lexi was sprawled on the couch, a blanket kicked to the floor. The gin bottle, empty, lay on its side under the coffee table. Jake stood there, watching the rise and fall of Ethan’s chest, the stubble dark on his jaw. He looked carved from stone, beautiful and utterly remote.
Jake retrieved the blanket and draped it over Lexi. He didn’t cover Ethan. He just went back to the bedroom and closed the door softly, leaning his forehead against the cool wood. The drunkenness was receding, leaving a vast, hollow ache in its place. He slid back into bed, putting careful inches between himself and the sleeping stranger. He stared into the dark until it turned to gray, listening to two sets of breathing that weren't Ethan’s, trapped in the relentless echo of their own making.
The sheets smelled like strangers—perfume and sweat and something sharp, like the lingering ghost of gin. Jake’s stomach twisted. He needed air. He needed to get the fuck out of this bed.
He slipped out from under the tangled sheets, careful not to disturb Sasha’s sleeping form. Her arm flopped onto the empty space where he’d been, her fingers curling into the fabric like she was trying to hold onto him even in sleep. Jake swallowed hard, his mouth dry. He needed a drink. He needed to find Ethan.
The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed in on his eardrums.
Jake stumbled into the hallway, his bare feet sticking to the hardwood floor. The living room was a wreck—empty bottles, discarded clothes, the faint scent of sex and alcohol still clinging to the air. Ethan was nowhere to be seen.
Then he heard it. A low, muffled groan from the bathroom.
Jake’s pulse spiked. He moved toward the sound, his heart hammering in his chest. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, just enough to see the dim glow of the nightlight casting shadows across the tiled floor. Another groan, deeper this time, guttural.
He pushed the door open.
The hinges creaked, the sound swallowed by the wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh. Ethan was bent over the sink, his broad back glistening with sweat, his sweatpants around his knees. His ass was bare, his thick thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself up. His head was turned to the side, his mouth open in a silent groan, his eyes squeezed shut.
Jake’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t look away. Ethan’s body was a masterpiece of tension and release, his muscles flexing and relaxing with every thrust. His ass was round and firm, his cheeks clenching and unclenching with each movement. He was driving into Lexi with a raw, animalistic rhythm, his hips snapping forward with a wet, slapping sound. She was bent over the edge of the tub, her legs spread wide, her fingers gripping the porcelain so hard her knuckles were white. Her blonde hair was tangled, her mouth open in a silent scream as Ethan fucked her with deep, punishing strokes.
Jake’s cock twitched in his boxers, his pulse hammering in his throat. The sight of Ethan like this—so raw, so unguarded—was intoxicating. He wanted to touch, to taste, to be part of it. He woke up Sasha to get her to join them, but she was groggy and uninterested, rolling over with a grunt. He left her there, his cock aching, his mind racing. He couldn’t just stand there and watch. He needed to be part of it.
Jake stepped into the bathroom, the heat from their bodies hitting him like a wall. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of flesh slapping flesh filling the small space. Ethan didn’t stop, didn’t even glance back, just kept fucking Lexi with deep, relentless thrusts, his hips moving in a perfect, brutal rhythm. Jake lubed up his cock and stepped behind Ethan, pressing his chest against Ethan’s sweaty back. He could feel the muscles in Ethan’s shoulders tensing with each powerful stroke, the way his body tightened and released like a coiled spring.
"Fuck," Ethan groaned, his voice thick with need. "Jake—"
Jake didn’t answer, just reached around and grabbed Ethan’s cock, stroking it in time with his own thrusts. He could feel the way Ethan’s body shuddered at the contact, the way his breath hitched. Lexi moaned beneath them, her fingers gripping the edge of the tub so tight her knuckles were white.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck—" she gasped as Ethan drove into her with deep, punishing strokes. The sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh filled the small bathroom, the scent of sex thick in the air.
Jake's cock was rock hard, pressing against Ethan's ass as he ground against him. He could feel the heat of Ethan's body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with every thrust. He reached around and grabbed Ethan's cock, stroking it in time with his own movements.
"Fuck, Jake—" Ethan groaned, his voice thick with need. His hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking for just a second before he regained control.
"Don't stop," he growled, his voice rough with need. "Fuck, don't stop."
Jake leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Ethan's ear. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against Ethan's sweat-slicked skin. "You like being used like this. Being fucked while you fuck someone else."
Ethan let out a strangled groan, his fingers tightening around Lexi's hips. "Yes," he hissed, his voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies slapping together. "Fuck, yes."
Jake's cock throbbed at the admission, his own hips moving faster, harder.
He could feel the way Ethan's body tensed beneath him, the way his breath hitched as Jake's cock slid deeper between his cheeks. The wet, filthy sounds of their bodies moving together filled the small bathroom, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Jake groaned, his fingers digging into Ethan's hips as he fucked him with deep, punishing strokes. "You like being used like this, don't you? Being fucked while you fuck someone else?" Being filled up while you're filling someone else up."
Ethan's breath hitched, his hips stuttering for just a second before he regained control. "Fuck, yes," he gasped, his voice rough with need. "Fuck, I love it."
Jake's cock throbbed at the admission, his own hips moving faster, harder. He could feel the way Ethan's body tensed beneath him, the way his breath hitched as Jake's cock slid deeper between his cheeks.
Being fucked while you fuck someone else? Being filled up while you're filling someone else up?" "OH FUCK OH FUCK", Lexi screamed , her nails clawing at the porcelain as Ethan's thick cock pounded into her with deep, brutal strokes. The sound of their bodies slapping together was obscene, the wet, sloppy noise of flesh on flesh filling the small bathroom. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the heat from their bodies making the room feel like a sauna. Jake's cock was rock hard, pressing against Ethan's ass as he ground against him, feeling the way Ethan's body tensed and relaxed with every thrust. He reached around and grabbed Ethan's cock, stroking it in time with his own movements, feeling the way Ethan's body shuddered at the contact.
The thick, veiny shaft pulsed in his grip, slick with pre-cum and Lexi's juices, the heat of it almost too much to bear. Jake's own cock throbbed in response, his hips moving faster, harder, as he fucked Ethan with deep, punishing strokes.
Lexi screamed: OH FUCK OH FUCK I'm I'm going to come I'm going to come—
Her words dissolved into a strangled wail as her body convulsed, her pussy clenching around Ethan's cock. The sound of wet flesh slapping together grew louder, more urgent, as Ethan fucked her through her orgasm, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision.
Jake could feel the way Ethan's body tensed beneath him, the way his muscles flexed and released with every thrust. The heat of their bodies, the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of their moans and gasps—it was all too much, too overwhelming. He could feel himself getting closer, his cock throbbing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The sound of Lexi’s moans, the way her body shook with each thrust, the way Ethan’s ass clenched around him—it was all too much. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," Jake groaned, his fingers digging into Ethan’s hips, his cock buried deep inside him. "Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up."
Ethan let out a low, guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he fucked Lexi with even more force. "Do it," he growled. "Fucking come inside me."
Jake’s cock twitched, his body tensing as he felt the first hot pulse of his release.
His fingers dug into Ethan’s hips, his nails biting into the soft flesh as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing deep inside Ethan’s tight, clenching ass. He groaned, his breath hot against the back of Ethan’s neck, his body shuddering as he emptied himself in long, thick spurts.
Ethan let out a choked groan, his own hips stuttering as he fucked Lexi with brutal, desperate thrusts. "Fuck, fill me up. Fucking come inside me."
Jake’s cock pulsed again, his release hot and thick, filling Ethan’s ass with his cum.
He groaned, his hips jerking forward as he emptied himself inside him, his fingers digging into Ethan’s hips hard enough to leave marks. The sensation of his cock buried deep, throbbing as he came, was overwhelming. He could feel every inch of Ethan’s tight, clenching ass around him, milking him for every last drop.
Ethan let out a low, guttural moan, his own hips stuttering as he fucked Lexi with brutal, desperate thrusts. Fucking come inside me," he growled, his voice rough with need.
"Fucking fill me up."
Jake’s cock pulsed again, his release hot and thick, filling Ethan’s ass with his cum. He groaned, his hips jerking forward as he emptied himself inside him, his fingers digging into Ethan’s hips hard enough to leave marks. His cock was rock hard, throbbing inside her, his balls tight and heavy.
He could feel the way her pussy clenched around him, the way her body trembled with each thrust. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her sweat-slicked skin. "You like being fucked like this. Being used like this."
She let out a strangled groan, her fingers gripping the edge of the tub so tight her knuckles were white. "Yes," she gasped, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies slapping together.
"Fuck, yes. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
Jake's cock throbbed inside her, his hips moving faster, harder. He reached around and grabbed her tits, squeezing them hard, feeling the way her nipples hardened under his touch. She moaned, her body arching back against him, her ass pressing against his hips.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with need. "Your pussy is so tight. So wet. So fucking perfect."
She moaned in response, her body trembling with pleasure.
Jake's cock was rock hard, throbbing inside her, his balls tight and heavy. Jake screamed "OH fuck , I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come inside you, I'm gonna fill you up with my cum" as he pounded her harder and harder, his cock slamming into her with brutal force. He couldn't hold back any longer. His balls tightened, his cock throbbed, and he felt the first hot pulse of his release deep inside her. He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing deep inside her tight, clenching pussy. He could feel every inch of her around him, milking him for every last drop. He groaned, his hips jerking forward as he emptied himself inside her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks. He could feel every inch of her tight, clenching pussy around him, milking him for every last drop.
Jake's cock pulsed again, his release hot and thick, filling her up with his cum. The sensation of her pussy clenching around him, her body trembling with pleasure, was too much. He couldn't hold back any longer.