Mom shifts. The couch creaks.
She glances back. “You two okay? You’re awfully quiet.”
Jake smiles, all innocent. “Lily’s scared of the loud parts.”
I want to kill him. I want him deeper so bad I’m throbbing. My pussy is fluttering around the half of him inside me, begging.
Another explosion.
He sinks the rest of the way in one slow, devastating glide until he’s buried to the root and my back arches off the cushion.
Oh my God.
I feel him everywhere, pulsing, filling me so full I can’t breathe. My pussy clamps down hard, trying to keep him forever. A low, desperate moan vibrates in my throat. I shove it down, but tears prick my eyes from the effort.
We stay perfectly still for ten heartbeats. Twenty.
Then he starts to move.
Tiny rolls of his hips, barely there, but every single one drags the head of his cock over my g-spot like warm silk. Sweet. Teasing. Cruel.
I answer by clenching deliberately, milking him hard. His jaw flexes so tight I hear his teeth grind.
Minutes stretch into eternity.
He fucks me in slow motion, long, shallow strokes that never shift the blanket but wreck me completely. Every glide feels like a promise, every drag of his cock a tease that makes me want to sob his name. I keep my hand on him, stroking what I can reach, thumb swiping over the slick head every time he pulls back. I feel him leaking steadily now, coating my fingers.
Mom stands up to stretch.
We both freeze, locked together, his cock buried deep, my hand still wrapped around the base.
She walks right past us to the kitchen, flips on the light over the sink, pours water.
Jake’s eyes are black, daring me.
I dare him right back and clench hard around him, rolling my hips the tiniest fraction.
His nostrils flare. He has to bite his lip until it goes white. A tiny, broken groan rumbles in his chest. I feel it against my skin.
Mom comes back, settles in.
The second her attention is on the screen again he starts moving, slower, crueler, deeper, sweet little rolls that make my clit throb and my pussy flutter.
I’m unraveling.
I reach down with my free hand and start circling my clit myself, slow and filthy, while he fucks me and I fuck him right back with my fist. Every touch is honey-sweet torture.
The final action sequence hits, pure chaos, speakers screaming.
He pulls almost all the way out and glides back in, one endless, perfect stroke. Again. Again. Again.
I match him, stroking him in time, squeezing on every upstroke.
I come first.
It rolls through me slow and devastating, pussy fluttering, clenching, gushing around him in hot pulses that soak his lap and the blanket and the couch beneath us. I shove my face into his neck and scream silently, teeth sinking into his skin hard enough to bruise. The pleasure is so sweet I almost sob.
He’s right behind me.
One more deep grind, pubic bone smashed against my clit, and he swells impossibly thick. I feel the first rope shoot deep, then another, and another, flooding me while the credits roll and Mom yawns six feet away.
We stay locked together through the entire credit sequence, grinding lazily, riding the aftershocks, both of us marked with teeth and nails and sweat and cum.
Lights come up.
Mom turns fully, frowning at the soaked blanket, the dark stain on the cushion, the thick smell of sex hanging in the air.
“You two are drenched,” she says slowly. “And what is that smell?”
Jake pulls out slow, tucks himself away. I sit up, thighs slick, his cum already sliding thick and warm down my legs.
“Really intense movie,” we say together, voices hoarse.
I stand, blanket clutched in front of me, legs barely holding me.
Jake’s eyes promise tomorrow is going to destroy us both.
I can’t wait.