Chapter 6: The Surrender
Otis set the pace the way a man sets a metronome, slow and unbreakable. He pulled back until only the thick crown of his cock remained inside her, then pushed forward with a grinding rotation of his hips that dragged every ridge and vein along the tender walls of her cunt. Janet's breath caught in a sharp, reedy whine. Her hands fisted the bedsheet beneath her, knuckles white, while her legs locked around his hips and tried to pull him deeper.
"No," he murmured, easing back just enough to keep her from taking more. "No, you don't get to rush this."
She whimpered, the sound thin and desperate in her throat. "Please, Otis, I need..."
"I know what you need." His grey eyes held hers, calm and utterly in control. "And I'll give it to you when I'm ready."
He did it again. That slow, torturous withdrawal, followed by the weight of his hips pressing forward, the head of his cock nudging against the deepest part of her and then retreating. Each pass sent a shudder through her whole body, a wave of pleasure that built and crested and then receded, never quite breaking. Her cunt clenched around him, greedy and slick, trying to hold him in. He just laughed, low and rough, and pulled almost all the way out.
"Look at you," he said, voice thick with appreciation. "Soaking my cock, begging with your eyes. You're a mess, Janet."
"I don't care," she gasped. "Please, I'm so close, just let me come."
"Not yet."
He thrust forward again, driving deep, and Janet cried out as the heel of his pelvis ground against her clit. Her vision went white at the edges. She could feel it building, that electric coil in her belly drawing tight, and she arched her back and clawed at the sheets, her mouth open on a soundless scream. But he pulled back at the peak, leaving her hovering on the edge, trembling and slick and aching.
A sob broke from her throat. "Otis, you bastard, please."
"Say it again," he said, and the slow grin on his face made her want to hit him and kiss him all at once. "Say what you want."
"I want to come," she sobbed. "I want to come on your cock. God, please, I'll do anything, I'll say anything, just let me come."
His eyes darkened. "Good girl."
He picked up the pace, not the brutal rhythm from before, but a deep, rolling grind that worked every inch of his enormous length along her inner walls. Janet's head fell back, her hips rising to meet each push, her cunt gripping him so tightly she could feel every pulse of the blood in his cock. The pleasure built again, sharper this time, more insistent. She felt his thumb find her clit, rubbing in slow circles that made her whole body jerk.
"Come," he said harshly. "Now, Janet. Come on my cock."
And God, it was everything. The coil snapped, and she shattered beneath him, her body bowing up off the mattress as wave after wave of orgasm tore through her. She wailed his name, nails carving parallel lines into his forearms, her cunt clamping down in convulsive, milking pulses that gripped him like a fist. The sheets were destroyed beneath her, soaked with her sweat and his effort, but she couldn't care about anything except the blinding pleasure ripping through her.
Otis watched her come with an expression of raw, blazing hunger, and then he buried himself to the root and roared, his own release flooding into her in hot, thick spurts. Janet felt every pulse of him inside her, each burst of seed painting her depths, and it pushed her into a second, smaller orgasm that made her legs shake and her eyes roll back.
For a long moment neither of them moved. The only sound in the room was their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city below. Otis stayed inside her, softening slowly, his forehead pressed to hers. When he finally eased out, a rush of warm wetness followed, and Janet felt the absurd impulse to laugh.
She didn't. She just lay there, spread and thoroughly fucked, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how she was ever supposed to go back to her own room. Otis rolled off her and lay on his side, propped on one elbow, studying her with those calm, knowing eyes.
"Well," he said, and there was a satisfied note in his voice. "That's a start."