Chapter 6: Pussy rubb
The silence after Jack’s snores deepened was absolute. Oppressive. Maria lay rigid beside him, the cooling stickiness on her hand a grotesque counterpoint to the frantic ache pulsing between her own thighs. The phantom sounds from Ethan’s room – Chloe’s gasps, Ethan’s guttural groans, the rhythmic slap of flesh – echoed louder in the stillness than they ever had in reality. Her skin felt too tight, hypersensitive, every nerve ending screaming. The crimson lace she’d worn earlier, now discarded on the floor, seemed to radiate a dangerous heat.
She couldn’t lie here. Not with Jack’s oblivious sleep pressing down on her. Not with the memory of Ethan’s stunned, hungry gaze burning behind her eyelids. Thirst. That was plausible. A reason to move. She slid out of bed with exaggerated care, avoiding the damp patch on the duvet. The hardwood floor was cool under her bare feet as she padded silently out of the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.
The living room was bathed in the weak grey light filtering through the blinds. Empty pizza boxes littered the coffee table, the stale scent of pepperoni and cheap beer mingling with something muskier, fainter – the lingering ghost of Ethan and Chloe’s encounter. Maria shivered, not from cold. She walked towards the kitchen island, the cool marble countertop a brief relief against her palms as she leaned on it. The silence here was different – expectant.
She didn’t hear him approach. One moment she was staring blankly at the stainless steel refrigerator door, the next she felt the shift in the air behind her. A presence. Warmth radiating. She turned slowly.
Ethan stood in the kitchen doorway, utterly naked. The dim light sculpted the lean muscles of his chest and abdomen, catching the faint sheen of sweat still drying on his skin. His cock, thick and heavy, hung semi-erect against his thigh, the flushed head glistening faintly. He looked rumpled, sated, but his eyes… his eyes were wide, dark pools fixed on her with an intensity that stole her breath.
Maria was acutely aware of her own near-nakedness: the flimsy lace thong, a mere scrap of black fabric clinging to her hips, and the transparent bra, its delicate cups doing little to conceal the hard peaks of her nipples pressing against the sheer mesh. Her skin prickled under his gaze.
"Couldn't sleep?" Ethan’s voice was rough, sleep-thickened, but laced with something else. A low thrum of awareness.
"Thirsty," Maria managed, her own voice sounding thin. She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
He took a step into the kitchen, then another, closing the distance without hurry. His gaze never left her body, tracing the lines of the transparent bra, lingering on the shadowed triangle of the thong. The air crackled. The memory of the crimson lace, of his release hitting her skin, of his frantic cock in his hand, slammed into her with visceral force. Her pulse hammered in her throat, between her legs.
Ethan stopped inches from her. She could smell him – clean sweat, sex, the faint tang of his cologne, and something primal, uniquely male. His semi-erection stirred, thickening perceptibly as he looked down at her. "You look thirsty," he murmured, the words thick with implication. His hand lifted, not towards her face, but lower.
His fingers brushed the delicate lace stretched taut over her hipbone. The touch was feather-light, electric. Maria gasped, a sharp intake of breath that sounded unnaturally loud. He didn’t stop. His fingers traced the edge of the thong, dipping slightly beneath the elastic band at her hip, grazing the sensitive skin there. Her legs trembled.
"Still playing games, Maria?" His voice was a low growl now. His fingers slid lower, tracing the curve of her ass cheek where the lace met bare skin. Then, deliberately, his palm flattened against the front of the thong, pressing the thin fabric against her mound.
Heat exploded through Maria. She whimpered, her hips jerking forward involuntarily, pressing herself harder against his hand. The lace was instantly soaked, the damp patch spreading under the pressure of his palm. She could feel the hard ridge of her clit beneath the fabric, throbbing against his touch.
"Fuck," Ethan breathed, his eyes blazing. He could feel the heat, the wetness through the flimsy barrier. His other hand came up, rough fingers tangling in her short blonde curls, tilting her head back, forcing her to meet his burning gaze. "You're fucking soaked. Just from me touching you?"
He didn’t wait for an answer. His hand on her mound moved, fingers hooking into the side of the lace thong. With a sharp, deliberate tug, he ripped the fragile fabric aside. The sound – a tiny, tearing rasp – was obscenely loud. Cool air hit her exposed, dripping cunt. Ethan’s gaze dropped, riveted to the glistening pink folds, the swollen clit peeking from its hood, the dark blonde curls plastered wetly to her skin.
"Jesus Christ," he groaned, the sound ripped from his chest. His cock surged to full, rigid hardness, jutting thick and angry from his groan, the veins standing out starkly. He shoved her back against the cold marble countertop. The shock of the cold surface against her bare ass made her cry out.
His hand left her hair, clamping onto her hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His other hand gripped the base of his cock, the thick shaft pulsing in his fist. He didn’t tease. Didn’t prepare. He guided the swollen, purplish head directly to her slick opening, rubbing it roughly through her wetness, coating himself in her arousal. The sensation – the hot, blunt pressure against her hypersensitive flesh – made Maria arch off the counter, a ragged sob escaping her lips.
"Ethan…" It was half-protest, half-plea, lost in the frantic need coiling tighter inside her.
He ignored it. With a grunt, he shoved forward. The thick crown stretched her open, a sharp, burning intrusion. Maria gasped, her nails scrabbling against the smooth marble. He pushed deeper, inexorably, the sheer girth of him forcing her tender flesh apart. There was no finesse, no slow build. It was raw, urgent penetration. He filled her completely in one brutal thrust, his balls slapping hard against her ass cheeks.
"Fuck!" Ethan snarled, his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut for a second as her tight, wet heat clamped down on him. "Fucking hell, Maria… so fucking tight…" His hips snapped back, then slammed forward again, burying himself to the hilt. The impact jarred her against the counter.
He set a punishing rhythm immediately. Short, hard, deep thrusts that drove the breath from her lungs. Each inward plunge stretched her deliciously, rubbed her inner walls raw, sent jolts of intense pleasure-pain radiating up her spine. His grip on her hip was iron, holding her in place as he fucked her against the unforgiving marble. The slap of his flesh against hers, the wet, squelching sounds of her cunt taking his thick cock, filled the kitchen.
Maria’s head lolled back, her eyes unfocused. Pleasure, sharp and almost unbearable, coiled low in her belly with each brutal stroke. She met his thrusts, grinding her hips back against him, desperate for more friction, deeper penetration. Her hands flew back, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage, her knuckles white. Moans, low and guttural, tore from her throat with each driving plunge.
"Yeah… take it…" Ethan growled, his breath hot and ragged against her neck. His pace intensified, becoming frantic, piston-like. He fucked her like he was exorcising something – the frustration of her teasing, the memory of her crimson lace, the sounds she’d forced him to make while Chloe screamed. "Take my fucking cock, you little tease… Fuck, your cunt… so fucking good…"
He shifted his angle slightly, driving upwards. The thick head of his cock scraped over a spot deep inside her that sent white-hot lightning through her veins. Maria screamed, a raw, shattered sound that echoed off the cabinets. Her inner muscles clenched violently around his invading shaft, milking him, pulling him deeper.
"Gonna come…" Ethan gasped, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. "Fuck… gonna fill this tight little cunt…" He buried himself to the root, grinding his pelvis hard against her clit. His cock pulsed violently inside her, thick jets of hot cum erupting deep into her core. Maria felt the scalding flood, the rhythmic pulsing against her spasming walls, and it tipped her over the edge again. Her own orgasm ripped through her, a silent, convulsive wave that locked her muscles, her vision blurring.
Ethan slumped against her, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades, his cock still buried deep, twitching as the last spurts emptied into her. His breath came in ragged, shuddering gasps against her skin. Maria trembled violently, pinned between his weight and the cold counter, her own breathing shallow and rapid. The scent of sex – sweat, her arousal, his release – hung thick and cloying in the air. The ripped lace of her thong hung uselessly from one hip.
A floorboard creaked faintly down the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door.