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She left the bathroom door open. An invitation. A challenge. Steam rolls out, thick and heavy, but it’s her scent that draws me in—sweet, needy, already waiting. I step inside, and there she is, standing under the shower, her hands gliding over her wet skin, pretending she doesn’t know exactly what she just did.
But I know.
I don’t say a word. I don’t need to. In three strides, I’m behind her, yanking her against me, letting her feel exactly what she’s done to me. She gasps, back arching, ass pressing into my cock, slick and ready. My hand snakes up, fingers wrapping around her throat, tilting her head back against my shoulder.
“You knew I’d come,” I growl against her ear.
She whimpers, nodding. That’s all I need. I shove her forward, pressing her against the cold tile, spreading her open. No teasing. No hesitation. Just one brutal thrust, and I’m inside—hot, tight, perfect pussy.
She cries out, hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but I don’t let up. I grip her hips and fuck her like an animal, like she’s mine to take, mine to fill. Because she is. Every slap of skin, every ragged moan, every desperate clench of her soaked cunt screams it.
She left that door open because she wanted this—wanted to be bred, claimed, ruined. And I give it to her, pounding her into the tile, dragging my teeth over her shoulder, leaving my mark.
Her legs shake first, a strangled moan ripping from her throat as she comes, walls milking my cock, begging for more. I don’t stop, don’t slow. I grab her tighter, thrust deeper, chasing the only thing left—burying myself inside her and filling her up completely until she has no doubt she’s been fucking bred.