Meghan March

I want her willing. I refuse to let it be any other way.

Even defiant and angry, she responded to me like an instrument to a savant. I’ll tame that fire. Bend her to my will.

My dick hardens for what seems like the dozenth time tonight as I picture her submitting to my every command.

That ass.

Those tits.

That tight little cunt.

Property of no man? Bullshit.

Keira Kilgore is mine.

I grip my cock tighter and stroke it as I picture those pissed-off red lips turning pouty and soft after I’ve gotten her off enough times that she begs me to stop because she can’t take any more and promises me anything in return. That’s when they’ll be wrapped around my cock.

My balls tighten at the mental picture, and I stroke harder and faster.

Fuck, I don’t even need her on her knees. She can hang that thick mane of red hair over the edge of the bed, and I’ll fuck her face and teach her to take every inch down her throat without gagging.

My cock pulses, my orgasm bearing down faster than I expect considering that I just came. But it’s not me. It’s the thought of her moaning as she sucks and tongues my shaft every time I pull out until I blow inside her mouth and watch my cum drip from those stubborn lips.

Mine.

As my cum splatters the rock wall in my shower, I swear to myself it’s the last time. She’ll never deny me again.

She may have marked me tonight, but I marked her first.

You’re lucky I don’t care that you’re creaming all over my pants. You’re making a mess, Keira.” He lowers his head to speak directly into my ear. “Actually, I fucking love it.”