The bell above the door of the boutique jingled, pulling Julie from her inventory checklist. She looked up, a customer-service smile already plastered on her face. It froze, then cracked.
Marc.
He stood just inside the door, larger than life, his dark eyes scanning the quiet store before locking onto her. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was a pixelated fantasy, a digital secret from last night, a thrill she’d shared with her new husband from the safety of their bedroom. But here he was, in the flesh, his presence sucking all the air out of the room. He looked even bigger in person, his shoulders broad under a simple black t-shirt, his smile confident, knowing.
Jim. Jim must have set this up, her mind raced, a frantic attempt to make sense of the impossible. This is the next part of the game.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a wild, trapped bird. Marc moved toward her, his walk a slow, deliberate prowl that made the floorboards feel unsteady. He stopped at the counter, the spicy, clean scent of his cologne cutting through the stale store air.
“Julie, ” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated deep in her belly, so much richer and more potent than through her laptop speakers.
“M-Marc? What are you... how did you...?”
“Your husband is a very persuasive man, ” he said, a slow smile spreading. It wasn't just a statement; it was a command. An invitation. “He thought you might want to... continue our conversation. In person.”
Her face flushed, heat spreading down her neck and across her chest. Last night’s conversation had been anything but casual. It had been graphic, explicit, a detailed blueprint of everything Jim wanted this man to do to his new wife. And she, blushing and breathless, had agreed to every filthy word.
“He... he did?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“He did. The car’s outside.” Marc’s eyes held hers, dark and intense, leaving no room for debate. This was happening. Jim wanted this. She wanted this. The thought, terrifying and electric, sent a shocking pulse of wetness between her legs.
Without another word, she grabbed her purse from under the counter, flipped the open sign to closed, and followed him out. The afternoon sun was bright, ordinary, a stark contrast to the illicit thrumming in her veins. He led her to a sleek, black sedan parked just down the street. He opened the back door for her.
She slid across the cool leather, her heart in her throat. He followed her in, his large frame making the spacious car feel suddenly, intensely small. The door thudded shut, sealing them in a silent, private world. The air was thick with his scent, with anticipation, with the ghost of last night’s promises.
He didn’t speak. He just looked at her, his gaze hot enough to scorch. Then, he moved. One large hand came up, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. The touch was shockingly intimate, possessive. A soft whimper escaped her lips.
“Jim told me you’d be nervous, ” Marc murmured, his thumb stroking her bottom lip. “He also told me you’d be the wettest, tightest fuck of my life. Was he lying to me, Julie?”
“N-no, ” she breathed, her eyes wide.
“Prove it.”
His mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. His tongue plunged between her lips, tasting her, dominating her. She moaned into him, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, the hard muscle there flexing under her fingers. He tasted of mint and pure, unfiltered sin. He kissed her until she was dizzy, until her carefully applied lipstick was smeared, until all she could think about was the demanding pressure of his mouth.
He broke the kiss, both of them gasping for air. His eyes were blazing. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.” His hands went to the buttons of her demure work blouse. With a few quick, efficient flicks, he had it open. His calloused palms cupped her breasts through the lace of her bra, his thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened into aching pebbles. “So fucking perfect. Jim’s a lucky man.”
He unclasped her bra with a deft twist, and her breasts spilled into his hands. He groaned, a deep, greedy sound from his chest. He lowered his head and took one taut nipple into his mouth, his tongue lashing it, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. Julie cried out, her head falling back against the seat as bolts of pure pleasure shot straight to her core. She was melting, dissolving under his expert mouth.
“Please, ” she begged, though she didn’t know what she was begging for.
“Please what, sweet Julie?” he growled against her wet skin, his hand sliding down her stomach, over the fabric of her skirt. “Tell me what you want.”
“Touch me.”
His fingers found the hem of her skirt and pushed it up her thighs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, and in one rough, delicious movement, he tore them aside. The sound of tearing lace was obscene. The cool air of the car hit her wetness, making her shudder.
“Jesus Christ, ” he hissed, his fingers brushing through her slick folds. “Jim wasn’t fucking lying. You’re dripping for me already, aren’t you? Soaking fucking wet for a stranger in the back of his car.”
He plunged two thick fingers inside her without warning. Julie screamed, her back arching off the leather seat. She was so full, so stretched. He fucked her with his fingers, a hard, relentless rhythm that had her whimpering with each thrust.
“That’s it, take it, ” he commanded, his voice rough. “Get your pretty little cunt ready for my cock.”
He added a third finger, stretching her even more, the delicious burn making her eyes roll back. His thumb found her clit, circling it with a pressure that was just shy of painful. The coil in her belly tightened, ready to snap.
“No, ” he ordered, pulling his hand away abruptly, leaving her empty and throbbing. “You don’t get to come yet. Not until I’m buried deep inside you.”
He unbuttoned his jeans, freeing his cock. Julie’s breath hitched. It was huge, thick and long and veined, just like on the screen, but now it was real, and it was for her. He was already slick with precum at the tip. He positioned himself between her legs, pushing her knees up and apart.
“Look at me, Julie, ” he demanded. She forced her eyes open, meeting his dark, hungry gaze. “I want you to watch me take what your husband gave me permission to take.”
He pressed the blunt, slick head of his cock against her entrance. He was so much bigger than Jim, bigger than his fingers. A frisson of fear and wild excitement shot through her.
“Relax, baby, ” he murmured, a surprisingly soft command in his gruff voice. “Just relax and let me in.”
He pushed forward, a slow, inexorable invasion that stole the air from her lungs. She felt herself stretching, accommodating his incredible girth, a full, aching, exquisite pressure that bordered on pain before tipping over into mind-blowing pleasure. He sank deeper, and deeper, until his hips were flush against hers, until he was buried to the hilt inside her.
They both groaned, a ragged, shared sound of pure carnal completion. He was so deep she could feel him in her throat. He held himself there for a long moment, letting her feel every inch, letting her body adjust to the overwhelming fullness.
“Fuck, ” he breathed, his forehead resting against hers. “Your husband is a goddamn saint. This cunt is a fucking masterpiece.”
His thrusts were a brutal, perfect rhythm, each one knocking a sharp gasp from her lips. The leather seat creaked beneath them, a lewd metronome keeping time with their fucking. Julie’s world had shrunk to the heat of his body blanketing hers, the smell of his cologne and her own arousal, and the relentless, stretching fullness of his cock pistoning inside her.
“Oh god, Marc, ” she whimpered, as Marc flipped her over, her voice muffled against the seat.
He leaned over her, his broad chest pressing against her back, one hand snaking around to cup her breast, his fingers finding her nipple and pinching just hard enough to make her cry out. “You feel that, Julie?” he growled into her ear, his breath hot. “You feel how deep I’m fucking you? Your husband’s never filled you up like this, has he? Never made you feel this fucking full.”
She could only shake her head, a desperate, wordless motion. He was right. Jim was wonderful, but this was something else entirely. This was being taken. This was being used for a singular, primal purpose. And she was drowning in the bliss of it.
“No, ” she finally managed to whisper. “Never like this.”
“That’s because this is what you were made for, ” Marc murmured, his lips grazing her earlobe. “This perfect, tight little pussy was made to be stretched around a thick fucking cock. My cock.” He punctuated the last two words with a particularly deep, grinding thrust that made her see stars.
His hand left her breast and slid down the slick plane of her stomach, his fingers seeking the swollen nub of her clit. The moment his calloused fingertip made contact, a jolt of pure electricity shot through her. She arched her back, pressing herself against him, a silent plea for more.
“You like that, don’t you, baby?” he cooed, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. “You like getting fucked like a slut in the backseat while your husband thinks about what we’re doing? You like me playing with this pretty little clit while I breed this married pussy?”
The filthy words shouldn’t have thrilled her, but they did. They sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through her veins. “Yes! Fuck, yes, Marc!”
“Then come for me, ” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I want to feel this sweet cunt clamp down on my dick. I want to feel you fucking milk me while you come.”
His fingers worked her clit in furious, perfect circles just as his hips snapped forward, changing the angle. The head of his cock now slammed directly into a spot deep inside her that unspooled her completely. The coil of pleasure in her abdomen, which had been winding tighter and tighter with every thrust, suddenly snapped.
Her orgasm ripped through her with the force of a tidal wave. A torn, shattered cry was ripped from her throat as her entire body seized. Her inner muscles clenched around him in frantic, rhythmic pulses, gripping his shaft in a velvet vise. The world blurred at the edges, dissolving into pure, white-hot sensation.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck, that’s it. Squeeze my cock. Take it, ” Marc grunted, his own control fracturing.
He held himself deep as she convulsed around him, his groans of approval vibrating through her. Just as the last waves of her climax began to recede, he pulled out of her.
Before she could even process the sudden emptiness, his strong hands were on her hips, flipping her onto her back. The move was so swift and commanding it left her breathless. He loomed over her, his dark eyes blazing with raw hunger, his cock glistening with her arousal. He looked like a god of sex, and she was his willing altar.
He hooked his arms under her knees, pushing her legs back toward her shoulders, spreading her wide open for him. The position was obscenely vulnerable, and a fresh thrill of submission shot through her. There was no hiding from him now. He could see everything.
“I want to watch your face when I fill you up, ” he rasped, his gaze locked on hers.
He notched the head of his cock back at her dripping entrance. He paused for a heart-stopping second, letting her feel the immense pressure, letting her anticipate the claiming. Then, with one powerful, driving thrust, he was buried inside her again, deeper than before.
He didn’t wait for her to adjust. He set a new, devastating pace, each plunge a deliberate, punishing act of possession. The sound of their bodies meeting, skin slapping against slick skin, filled the humid air of the car. Julie could only wrap her legs around his waist, her nails digging into the powerful muscles of his arms, her head thrashing from side to side on the leather seat.
“You’re gonna take my cum, Julie, ” he grunted, his rhythm becoming more frantic, more erratic. “I’m gonna pump this fertile married pussy so full of my seed it’s gonna be dripping out of you for days. You’re gonna walk around knowing my fucking load is deep inside you.”
The imagery, the sheer taboo nastiness of his words, pushed her toward another dizzying peak. She could feel him swelling within her, could feel the tension coiling in his own body. He was close.
“Yes! Marc, please! Breed me! Fill my fucking pussy!” she begged, the words shocking her even as they left her mouth.
A feral growl erupted from his chest. He drove into her one last, final time, hilting himself with a force that shook the entire car. His body went rigid above her, and she felt the hot, pulsing jet of his release deep inside her. It was an intimate, profound warmth, a claiming that went deeper than skin. He groaned, a long, guttural sound of utter satisfaction, as he emptied himself into her willing, clenching depths.
He collapsed over her, his weight a comforting, crushing pressure. She could feel his heart hammering against her own, their sweat-slicked skin fused together. He was still inside her, still pulsing weakly, depositing the last of his seed deep in her womb.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing fogging up the windows. The world outside had ceased to exist. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at her. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, sated.
He leaned down and captured her lips in a slow, deep, possessive kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue.
When he finally pulled back, a wicked smirk played on his lips. “Now, ” he whispered, his voice rough, “let’s see how much more of this perfect fucking body I can claim before your shift is over.