Chapter 2119 - APP 73

I stripped quietly—shirt, pants, shoes—and climbed onto the mattress behind her.

I slid against her back, wrapping one arm around her waist, pulling her flush to me. My cock—already half-hard from the memories of last night—nestled against the cleft of her ass. My free hand cupped one heavy breast, thumb brushing over the nipple.

She stirred, murmuring sleepily without opening her eyes.

"Don't... I'm tired..."

I chuckled low against her ear, pinching the nipple firmly between thumb and forefinger—sharp enough to sting.

"Aaaaah!"

Lorena's eyes flew open, groggy and unfocused at first, then widening as she registered me. A deep blush flooded her cheeks and chest almost instantly.

Lorena's sleepy protest melted into a soft, needy whimper the moment my fingers found her nipple again—pinching harder this time, rolling the stiff peak between thumb and forefinger until it throbbed under my touch.

"Aaaaahhh... Jack... nooo... too sensitive..." she whined, voice still thick with sleep but already cracking with that delicious, coquettish lilt she couldn't hide when she was turned on. Her back arched instinctively, pushing her breast deeper into my palm even as her lips formed a pouty little "o" of mock complaint.

I chuckled low against the shell of her ear, letting my hot breath ghost over her skin. "Too sensitive? Baby, last night you were begging me to pinch them harder while I fucked your ass raw. Remember? 'Pinch my nipples, Jack—make it hurt—make me scream—'"

Her cheeks flamed scarlet. She tried to twist away, but I hooked one arm under her waist and yanked her back flush against me, my hardening cock nestling deeper between her ass cheeks, the head already leaking pre-cum against her warm cleft.

"Shhh... don't lie to me," I teased, nipping her earlobe sharply enough to make her gasp. "You were such a filthy little slut for it. Screaming so loud the neighbors probably called the front desk."

Lorena buried her face in the pillow again, voice muffled but unmistakably coquettish—half embarrassed, half desperate.

"I didn't... I mean... maybe I said something like that... but only because you made me... aaaaahhh!"

I cut her off with another hard pinch—twisting this time—drawing a high, broken moan from her throat.

"Only because I made you?" I echoed, voice dark and amused. "Sweetheart, you were riding my cock reverse cowgirl, ass bouncing, begging me to slap your tits while you came all over me. Don't play innocent now."

Before she could protest again, I brought my hand down—hard—SMACK—right across the fullest part of her ass cheek.

The crack echoed in the quiet hotel room like a whip.

Lorena's whole body jolted forward, a sharp, slutty cry spilling from her lips.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhh! Jack—fuck—that stings... oh my godddd..."

Her ass bloomed bright pink instantly, the handprint vivid against her smooth skin. She squirmed, thighs rubbing together, trying to ease the burn—but the way her hips rolled back told me everything: she wanted more.

I didn't make her wait.

Another slap—harder—on the other cheek—SMACK—then two quick ones in succession—SMACK SMACK—each one landing with deliberate force, making her plump flesh jiggle and ripple.

"Aaaaahhh! Aaaah! Too hard—too hard—Jack you're gonna bruise me—aaaaahhh fuuuckkk..."

Her voice cracked higher with every impact, turning breathy and coquettish again, that pouty little whine she always used when she was pretending to complain but secretly loving it.

"Bruise you?" I growled, rubbing my palm over the hot, stinging skin in slow circles, soothing and teasing at the same time. "Baby, you begged for bruises last night. 'Mark me, Jack—leave handprints on my ass so everyone knows I'm yours—'"

Lorena whimpered, face buried deeper in the pillow, but her hips lifted higher—offering herself shamelessly.

"I... I might've said that... maybe..." she mumbled, voice small and dripping with fake innocence. "But only because you were fucking me so good... stretching my ass... filling me... making me lose my mind..."

I slid my hand between her thighs—finding her already soaked, pussy lips swollen and slippery from last night's marathon and this morning's fresh arousal.

"Lost your mind, huh?" I teased, circling her clit with two fingers—slow, torturously light—while my other hand came down again—SMACK—right across both cheeks this time, the impact making her jolt forward and grind her clit harder against my fingers.

"Aaaaaahhhh! Yes—yes—lost my mind—your cock in my ass—your hand spanking me—oh god I came so hard I squirted everywhere—aaaaahhh don't stop—spank me again—please..."

Her coquettish tone was gone now—replaced by raw, desperate begging.

I obliged.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

Three hard, measured slaps—each one landing lower, catching the sensitive undercurve where thigh met ass—turning her skin a deep, angry pink that would bruise beautifully by afternoon.

Lorena's moans turned into continuous, slutty wails—high-pitched, broken, shameless.

"Aaaaahhh fuck—yes—harder—spank your dirty little lawyer slut—mark my ass—make it red—make it hurt so good—aaaaahhh I'm dripping—look how wet I am—please—fuck me—fuck me now—aaaaahhh!"

I flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other guided my cock—thick, throbbing, still slick from Julie's womb—to her entrance.

She looked up at me with glassy, pleading eyes—lips parted, cheeks flushed, tits heaving.

"Beg properly," I ordered, rubbing the head through her folds, teasing her clit with every pass.

Lorena bit her lip, then gave in completely—voice hoarse, coquettish, filthy.

"Please... husband... fuck your sleepy little slut awake... stretch my sore pussy with your big cock... pound me until I scream again... fill me up—breed me—make me leak your cum all day so everyone knows I'm yours... please—aaaaahhh—don't tease—give it to me—hard—"

I slammed in—deep, brutal—one thrust burying me to the hilt.

Lorena's back arched off the mattress, a raw scream tearing from her throat.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh fuuuuckkkk! Yes—yes—your cock—so thick—so deep—hitting my cervix—aaaaahhh fuck me—wreck me—don't stop—aaaaahhhh!"

I didn't.

I fucked her hard—relentlessly—each thrust driving her higher up the bed, tits bouncing wildly, her legs wrapping around my waist to pull me deeper.

Every few strokes, I pulled out almost completely—then brought my hand down—SMACK—across her ass again while slamming back in, making her scream louder, pussy clenching like a vice.

"Aaaaahhh—spank me while you fuck me—yes—yes—your handprint on my ass—your cock in my cunt—aaaaahhh I'm gonna come—gonna squirt again—aaaaahhhh!"

The room filled with wet slaps—skin on skin, cock in pussy, her desperate moans, my growls.

Outside, the city was waking up.

Officer Jayden and her mother might knock soon.

But right now?

Lorena was mine—screaming, squirting, begging—and I wasn't stopping until she was a trembling, cum-filled mess who could barely remember her own name.

Lorena's moans filled the hotel room like a filthy symphony—raw, desperate, rising higher with every brutal thrust. Her legs were wrapped tight around my waist, heels digging into my lower back, pulling me deeper as if she could fuse us together.

I gripped her waist hard—fingers sinking into the soft flesh above her hips—using the leverage to slam into her relentlessly, each stroke driving my cock balls-deep into her soaked, swollen pussy.

Her clit was swollen and throbbing, peeking out from its hood, glistening with her arousal. Every time my pubic bone ground against it, she jolted—her whole body spasming, pussy clenching like a velvet fist around my cock. Thick, clear strands of her cream coated my cock, dripping down my balls and soaking the sheets beneath us in a growing wet spot.

"Jack—oh fuck—harder—don't stop—aaaaahhh!" she cried, voice breaking into high, slutty whimpers. Her nails raked down my back, leaving red trails that burned deliciously.

"Your cock is so thick... stretching me... hitting so deep—aaaaahhh I can feel it in my guts—fuck me—wreck my pussy—make me your cum-dump again—aaaaahhh!"

I leaned down, pressing my entire body against hers—chest crushing her heavy tits, nipples scraping against my skin with every punishing thrust. Our sweat-slick skin stuck together, sliding hot and slippery.

I captured her mouth in a bruising kiss—tongue invading, claiming, swallowing her moans as I fucked her harder, faster, the wet slap-slap-slap of our bodies echoing obscenely.

I broke the kiss and dragged my tongue up the side of her neck—tasting salt, perfume, and raw arousal—then lower, burying my face against her armpit. The skin there was warm, slightly damp with sweat, carrying that intimate, musky scent that always drove her wild when I licked it.

The moment my tongue flicked over the sensitive hollow, Lorena's pussy clamped down violently—walls fluttering, rippling, trying to milk me dry.

"Oh godddd—Jack—nooo—not there—aaaaahhh!" she wailed, voice cracking into a high, broken scream. "You know what that does to me—licking my armpit—dirty—gross—aaaaahhh fuck—my pussy's tightening—gonna cum—gonna cum so hard—don't stop—lick it—suck it—aaaaahhhh!"

I growled against her skin, tongue lapping broad, wet stripes over her armpit—tasting her sweat, her heat—while my hips never slowed, pounding her mercilessly, cock battering her cervix with every thrust.

Her body locked up—back arching off the mattress, thighs quaking around me, pussy spasming wildly.

"I'm cumming—aaaaaaaahhhhh! Fuck—fuck—your cock—your tongue—my armpit—oh godddd—cumming—cumming so hard—aaaaahhhhhh!"

She shattered.

Her pussy convulsed in violent, rhythmic pulses—squirting hard around my cock in hot, forceful jets that sprayed across my abs, my thighs, the bed. Her screams turned into wordless, animal wails—high-pitched, broken, echoing off the walls as her whole body shook with the intensity of it.

At the same moment, the tight grip of her spasming cunt and the way her womb fluttered around my tip snapped my control.

I groaned low and primal, hips locking forward as I buried myself as deep as possible—tip breaching her cervix again, lodged in the hot, clutching warmth of her womb.

"Aaaaaaahhh take it—take every fucking drop—Lorena—fuuuuckkk!"

I erupted.

SPLURT. SPLURT. SPLURT. SPLURT.

Thick, hot ropes blasted straight into her womb—powerful jets that flooded her deepest chamber, painting her insides white. Each pulse felt endless, my balls tightening and releasing as I pumped load after load deep where it belonged.

Lorena felt every single spurt—her eyes rolling back, mouth open in a continuous, shattered moan.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh... yes—yes—cum in me—fill my womb—oh god it's so hot—so much—splashing inside—breeding me—aaaaahhhh aaaaaahhhh aaaaaahhhh—keep cumming—don't stop—flood me—make me leak you all day—aaaaahhhh!"

Her pussy milked me greedily—walls rippling, womb fluttering, sucking every drop deeper while more of her squirt gushed out around my base, mixing with the overflow of my cum that started seeping out despite how tightly she gripped me.

I kept thrusting through it—slow, deep rolls now—milking the last pulses from my cock while she trembled beneath me, aftershocks making her pussy twitch and flutter around my still-hard cock.

When the final spurt finally ebbed, I stayed buried inside her—tip still lodged in her womb, feeling the warm, heavy slosh of my cum every time she breathed.

Lorena's arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me down until our foreheads touched. Her voice was wrecked—hoarse, breathless, still dripping with that coquettish little whine.

"Mmmmmm... so full... your cum is sitting so deep... I can feel it sloshing in my womb... god... I'm gonna be dripping you for hours... everyone's gonna smell it on me... aaaaahhh... You ruined me again..."

I kissed her slowly and filthily—tongue sliding against hers, tasting her moans.

"You begged for it," I murmured against her lips. "Begged to be bred. Begged to be marked. And now you're leaking my cum like the perfect little slut you are."

She shivered, pussy clenching weakly around me one last time.

"Evil... husband..." she whispered, but her smile was lazy, satisfied, utterly fucked-out.

I pulled out slowly—my cock emerging with a wet schlick, followed by a thick gush of cum pouring from her stretched, puffy pussy—white and creamy, mixing with her squirt and dripping down her ass crack onto the sheets.

Lorena whimpered at the emptiness, thighs trembling.

"Stay inside... please... just a little longer..."

I chuckled, sliding two fingers into her leaking cunt—scooping up a thick glob of our mixed mess—and brought them to her lips.

"Taste us," I ordered softly.

She opened obediently, sucking my fingers clean—eyes locked on mine, tongue swirling around the digits like she was savoring every filthy drop.

"Mmmmmm... your cum... my squirt... so good... so nasty..." she murmured, voice hoarse and dreamy.

I kissed her again—deep, claiming—then rolled us so she was draped across my chest, legs tangled, her dripping pussy pressed against my thigh.

"Rest for a minute," I told her. "Jayden and your mother might show up soon. But when they do... you're gonna walk out there with my cum still leaking down your thighs... and you're gonna smile like the well-fucked lawyer you are."

Lorena shivered, burying her face against my neck.

"You're going to ruin my reputation..."

Lorena's yelp turned into a breathless giggle as my palm connected with her ass one last time—light but sharp enough to make the pink handprint bloom brighter on her already reddened skin. She squirmed against me, thighs rubbing together, still leaking my fresh cum down her inner legs in slow, sticky trails.

Then—sharp knock knock knock—at the door.

Lorena froze. Her eyes went wide, cheeks flaming crimson in an instant. The playful haze of post-orgasm bliss vanished, replaced by pure mortified panic.

"Oh god... oh no..." she whispered, voice tiny and trembling.

I propped myself up on one elbow, smirking lazily. "Go open the door, baby. See who it is."

She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Jack—I can't—I'm... look at me!"

Cum was already dripping out of her well-fucked pussy—thick white globs sliding down her thighs, threatening to hit the floor any second. Her legs shook, knees weak from the pounding she'd just taken.

I raised an eyebrow. "You heard me. Go."

Lorena whimpered, quickly clenching her thighs together in a desperate attempt to trap the leaking mess inside her. She scrambled off the bed—limping noticeably, every step making her wince and her pussy clench harder, forcing more cum to ooze out despite her efforts. She glanced around frantically for clothes.

Her shirt? Ripped to shreds last night when I'd torn it off her in a frenzy. Her stockings? Shredded, dangling from the headboard like trophies. Bra and panties? Still stuffed under the pillow where I'd made her hide them after I'd stripped her naked and fucked her senseless.

All she had left was the short pencil skirt and the long trench coat she'd worn to the meeting yesterday—both miraculously intact.

She grabbed the skirt first, shimmying it up her trembling legs. The moment she bent over, another thick rope of my cum slipped out and splattered audibly on the carpet. Lorena gasped, horrified, and clamped her thighs shut again—hard.

"Oh my god... Jack... It's dripping everywhere..." she whispered, voice cracking with embarrassment.

I just grinned wider. "Keep going."

She threw the coat on over her naked torso—no bra, no panties, nothing underneath. The coat was long enough to cover her ass and most of her thighs, but every movement made the skirt ride up dangerously, threatening to expose the glistening mess between her legs. Her nipples were rock-hard and poking through the thin fabric of the coat, impossible to miss.

She limped toward the door—each step awkward, thighs pressed tight, trying to trap the flood of cum inside her. Every few steps, another small dribble escaped anyway, leaving faint wet spots on the carpet behind her.

She reached the door, took a deep breath, smoothed her hair (uselessly), and opened it just a crack at first—then wider when she saw who it was.

Officer Jayden stood there—uniform crisp, expression professional—but her nose wrinkled almost immediately as the heavy, unmistakable scent of sex rolled out of the room like a wave: sweat, cum, squirt, and the musky aftermath of hours of filthy fucking.

Jayden's eyes flicked over Lorena—disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, limping stance, coat buttoned crookedly, skirt wrinkled, no stockings, bare legs shiny with... something.

I stayed hidden under the blanket on the bed, only my head visible, looking perfectly innocent.

Jayden cleared her throat. "Lorena... uh... morning. I came to check on you. Your mother's waiting downstairs. She's worried."

Lorena tried to smile—failed miserably—her voice coming out high and shaky. "Y-yes, Officer Jayden... I'm... I'm fine. Just... overslept. A little."

Jayden's gaze darted past her into the room—taking in the wrecked bed: sheets twisted, soaked in huge wet patches, pillows scattered, the unmistakable scent growing stronger.

I slipped into Jayden's mind with telepathy—her thoughts came through crystal clear:

[What the hell is that smell...? It's like... sex. Thick. Heavy. Cum. Sweat. Pussy. All over the room. Lorena looks like she's been fucked for hours—limping, flushed, coat barely covering anything. The bed is destroyed... wet spots everywhere... was she... with someone? Right here? In the hotel? With Jack? No way... but... god, the scent is so strong it's making my head spin...]

Jayden's cheeks pinked slightly the moment she stepped inside, her polished boots clicking softly on the carpet. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, thighs pressing together unconsciously—a tiny, telling movement that didn't escape my notice.

The air in the room was thick with the unmistakable scent of raw, fresh sex: cum, squirt, sweat, and Lorena's sweet pussy musk hanging like a heavy fog. Jayden's nostrils flared again as she inhaled, trying to be subtle but failing completely.

Lorena noticed the sniff instantly. Her blush exploded from pink to a deep, burning scarlet that spread down her neck and chest, disappearing beneath the coat that barely hid her naked body. She tried to ease the door shut a little more—desperate to block the view—, but Jayden's boot was already wedged firmly in the gap. With a polite but insistent push, Jayden stepped fully inside and let the door click shut behind her.

"Officer Jayden..." I called casually from the bed, sitting up a little higher, letting the blanket ride low on my hips to reveal the deep scratches Lorena had left across my chest. My voice was calm, but I made no move to cover up further—just enough to remind everyone exactly what had been happening minutes ago.

Jayden's eyes flicked to me, then back to Lorena, then—inevitably—down to the floor as she took another step closer to the bed.

That's when she saw it.

A thick, creamy white stain—my cum—puddled on the carpet right where Lorena had been standing. Another fresh drop had just fallen from between Lorena's clenched thighs, landing with a soft plip that seemed deafening in the sudden silence. The trail led straight from Lorena's trembling legs to the bed, glistening in the morning light.

Lorena panicked. Her eyes went wide, hands flying to tug the hem of her coat lower as if that could hide the evidence. She shifted her weight, trying to step in front of the puddle, but only succeeded in making another slow rivulet of cum slide down her inner thigh, visibly shining against her skin.

Jayden's gaze lingered on the stain for a full three seconds—long enough for her thoughts to flood my mind through telepathy:

[That's... cum. Fresh cum on the floor. Dripping straight out of her. God, it's still leaking... she's stuffed full of it. They were fucking right before I knocked. Look at her thighs—shaking, shiny. No panties, no bra, just that coat... nipples hard as hell. And the smell—Jesus, it's everywhere. I can practically taste it. She got bred hard.]

But Jayden was a professional. She straightened up, cheeks now a deeper pink, and forced her eyes back to me—carefully avoiding the puddle as she stepped around it.

"That..." she cleared her throat, voice a touch higher than usual, "I just wanted to know your schedule for the day... so I can make the necessary arrangements."

Lorena let out the tiniest, mortified squeak and pressed her thighs together even harder, but I could see the fresh bead of cum threatening to drip again. She looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

I leaned back against the headboard, completely relaxed, and smiled.

"Well," I said easily, "first, I need to go to the hospital to meet Aunt Gabriela—she's Diaz's mother. She's been worried sick, and I promised her an update in person. After that, I want your team to move on, Sergio and Javier. Lorena has everything—every document, every recording, every name of the corrupt officers involved. I've already handed it all over to her. Make sure this stays her case. No one else touches it."

Jayden nodded quickly, pulling out her notepad to jot it down—anything to avoid looking at the floor again. Her pen moved fast, but her thoughts kept drifting:

[Focus, Jayden. Hospital. Gabriela. Sergio and Javier. Evidence with Lorena... God, she's still dripping. I can hear it when she shifts. If I look down again, I'm gonna see it slide out of her pussy... stop it. Professional. But damn, he must've fucked her senseless. She can barely stand straight.]

"Understood," Jayden said, voice steady now. "I'll coordinate the teams for Sergio and Javier immediately. Hospital first—do you want an escort?"

Lorena finally found her voice, though it came out breathy and flustered. "I—I'll be ready in five minutes. Just... need to freshen up."

She tried to take a step toward the bathroom, but her limp was obvious—legs shaky, thighs slick. Another soft plip as a drop escaped. Jayden's eyes flicked down involuntarily, then snapped back up, cheeks burning brighter.

Jayden swallowed. "Take your time," she said, a little too quickly. "I'll wait in the hallway."

But she didn't move right away. Her gaze drifted to me again—curious, conflicted.

"Anything else, Officer?" I asked, letting just a hint of amusement color my tone.

Jayden shook her head, snapped her notepad shut, and turned for the door—carefully stepping wide around the cum puddle as it might bite her.

"No, sir. That's all. I'll... have a car ready downstairs."

The door clicked shut behind her.

The second she was gone, Lorena let out a mortified wail and collapsed onto the bed beside me, burying her face in my chest.

"Oh my god," she whispered, voice trembling with embarrassment and lingering arousal. "She saw everything. The cum on the floor... dripping out of me... she smelled it... I wanted to die..."

I wrapped an arm around her, sliding my hand down to cup her bare ass under the coat, giving it a possessive squeeze.

"She saw," I murmured against Lorena's ear, my voice low and rough from everything we'd just done. "And she loved it. Did you see her cheeks? The way she kept pressing her thighs together? Bet her panties are soaked right now, just thinking about what I did to you—how deep I went, how you screamed, how you squirted and pissed while I filled your ass."

Lorena's blush exploded across her face—bright, guilty, aroused. She buried her face in my neck for a second, a soft, embarrassed whimper escaping her lips.

"You're evil," she whispered, but her arms tightened around me like she never wanted to let go.

I chuckled darkly, scooped her up in one smooth motion—her legs wrapping instinctively around my waist, her slick, cum-leaking body pressed flush against mine. She was still trembling faintly from the aftershocks, her asshole still faintly pulsing, a slow trickle of my seed sliding down her inner thigh as I carried her toward the bathroom.

The tiles were cool under my feet when we stepped inside. I kicked the door shut behind us, the lock clicking with quiet finality.

I set her down gently on the edge of the wide marble counter, her ass leaving a faint wet smear on the surface. She hissed softly at the cold contact, thighs parting automatically. I turned on the shower—hot water cascading in a wide, steaming rain from the overhead rain-head. Steam began to rise almost immediately, curling around us like smoke.

I lifted her again, this time stepping under the spray together.

The heat hit us like a blanket—water pounding against our skin, washing away the sweat, the squirt, the piss, the cum in slow, lazy rivulets. Lorena tilted her head back, letting the stream run over her face, through her dark hair, down her neck, between her heavy breasts. She looked wrecked and beautiful—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks still flushed from my words.

I reached for the body wash—something expensive, jasmine and sandalwood—and poured a generous amount into my palm.

"Turn around," I said softly.

She obeyed without hesitation, bracing her hands on the tiled wall, arching her back just enough to present her ass to me. Water sluiced down her spine, over the curve of her cheeks, and between them—highlighting the faint gape that still lingered from how thoroughly I'd fucked her.

I lathered my hands, then slid them over her ass—slow circles at first, kneading the soft flesh, then parting her cheeks gently. She shivered when my soapy fingers brushed her tender, swollen hole.

"Still sensitive?" I asked, voice gentle now.

She nodded, biting her lip. "A little sore... but good sore. You stretched me so much..."

I pressed one finger carefully against her rim—slow, easy, just enough to slip inside with the help of the soap. She gasped, thighs trembling, but pushed back instinctively, welcoming the intrusion.

I worked slowly, cleaning her thoroughly—sliding in and out, circling the inner walls, coaxing out the last thick globs of my cum that had been slowly leaking. White strands swirled down the drain with the water, disappearing in milky spirals. Each time I pushed deeper, she let out a soft, broken moan—half pain, half pleasure.

"You took me so well," I murmured, kissing the back of her shoulder. "Look at you... still opening for me even now."

When I was satisfied she was clean, I withdrew my finger and turned her to face me.

"Your turn."

Lorena's eyes were glassy, pupils blown. She sank to her knees without a word—water pounding against her back, streaming over her face like tears. She wrapped both hands around my cock—still half-hard, still glistening—and looked up at me with something like worship.

She started with slow, reverent strokes—lathering me from base to tip, thumbs circling the sensitive underside, fingers gently rolling my balls. Then she leaned in, tongue flicking out to taste the soap and the faint remnants of herself on me.

She took me into her mouth—not deep-throating this time, just soft, thorough sucking—cleaning every inch with her tongue, lips sealed tight. Her cheeks hollowed as she pulled back slowly, letting my cock slip free with a wet pop before diving back in.

She worked methodically, lovingly—tongue tracing every vein, swirling around the head, dipping into the slit to catch the last beads of pre-cum mixed with water. One hand cupped my balls, rolling them gently while the other stroked the base in time with her mouth.

When she finally pulled off, my cock was clean, flushed dark, and achingly hard again.

She looked up at me through wet lashes, water dripping from her chin.

"All clean," she whispered, voice hoarse.

-x-X-x-

Lorena and I stepped out of the steamy bathroom, wrapped in plush white bathrobes courtesy of the hotel—hers cinched tight around her curves, mine hanging loose over my shoulders.

The air still carried the faint jasmine scent of the body wash we'd used, mixed with the lingering musk of our earlier indulgence. She looked softer now, cheeks pink from the heat, hair damp and tousled, but her eyes still held that post-orgasm glow.

I picked up the room phone and dialed the front desk.

"Good evening, this is Jack in suite 1408. We need fresh clothes delivered as soon as possible. For me: black slim-fit shirt, size large; dark jeans, 34 waist, 32 inseam; black boxer briefs, large; and black leather loafers, size 10. For the lady: fitted white blouse, size medium; high-waisted black pencil skirt, size 6; black lace lingerie set, medium; and black heels, size 7. Rush it—thank you."

The concierge promised delivery within 20 minutes. True to their word, a discreet knock came soon after. A bellhop handed over two neatly folded garment bags without a word, eyes averted politely.

We dressed quickly—me in the sharp black ensemble that made me look every bit the powerful fixer I was playing, Lorena, slipping into the blouse and skirt that hugged her hips and accentuated her ass perfectly. She caught me staring as she adjusted the hem.

"Like what you see?" she teased, doing a slow spin.

"Always," I said, pulling her in for a quick, deep kiss. "Now, focus. Julie brought the full lawyer team—get everything ready. Brief them on the defamation angles, the evidence we have against the accusers, and the press conference fallout. Make sure the filings are airtight. Yuko's here too—she's handling translation and any cross-border communication with the Mexican authorities. Keep her busy; she's sharp, but she's watching me like a hawk."

Lorena nodded, all business now. "I've got it. I'll set up in the conference room downstairs. We'll run through depositions, timelines, and countersuits. By morning, we'll have injunctions drafted and ready to file."

She grabbed her tablet and legal folder, then paused at the door. "You're going to see Gabriela?"

"Yeah. She's been worried sick. Sarah's with her now."

Lorena's expression softened, the sharp lawyer edge melting into something warmer, almost tender. "Tell her... we're handling it. And that you're safe. She needs to hear it from you."

I gave her a reassuring squeeze on the hip—fingers lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin through the pencil skirt—then nodded. "I will. Text me updates."

She flashed a small, knowing smile—half professional, half possessive—before slipping out. The door clicked shut behind her with quiet finality, leaving the suite suddenly too silent.

I didn't go alone.

I called Jayden up from the lobby. She arrived in under five minutes—still in the same dark tactical gear she'd worn when her squad had tried (and failed) to "control" me days earlier. The irony wasn't lost on either of us.

Those soldiers—once sent to contain me—now answered to me. Jayden had flipped them with a single conversation and the promise of better pay, better orders, and the simple truth that I wasn't the monster their handlers had painted. Loyalty, it turned out, was cheaper than fear.

"Jack," Jayden said with a curt nod as she stepped inside. Behind her, four of her best men waited in the hallway—black tactical vests, earpieces, eyes scanning every corner. Discreet, professional, armed but not flashy. Perfect for a hospital visit in Mexico City.

"Jayden. You're with me. The rest stay on the perimeter—two at the main entrance, two at the elevators. No one gets near Gabriela's floor without me knowing."

She didn't question it. "Copy that."

The drive to Hospital Ángeles was tense but uneventful. Jayden rode shotgun in the blacked-out SUV, silent except for the occasional check-in with the security detail over comms.

I stared out at the passing city lights—neon bleeding into the night, street vendors still grilling even at this hour—while my mind ran through contingencies. Diaz was still breathing. Sergio and Javier were ghosts. Yuko was sniffing around like a bloodhound. And Gabriela... Gabriela was the one variable I couldn't afford to lose.

We pulled up to the private wing entrance. Jayden scanned the area once, gave the all-clear, then stayed posted outside the main doors with two of her men while I went in alone.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic, fresh linens, and faint coffee from the nurses' station. Room 712 was at the end of the quiet corridor—private, guarded by a single officer who nodded respectfully when he saw me.

I pushed the door open slowly, the soft pneumatic hiss of the hospital corridor giving way to the muted quiet of room 712.

Diaz lay motionless on the hospital bed—eyes closed, chest rising and falling in shallow, even rhythm, monitors beeping in a low, steady cadence. Asleep, or drugged into something close to it. Either way, he wasn't waking up anytime soon.

Gabriela and Sarah were sitting together on the narrow side bed—Gabriela's legs dangling off the edge, Sarah's posture straight but relaxed, one hand resting lightly on Gabriela's knee in silent support. The room smelled of antiseptic, faint vanilla from Gabriela's lingering perfume, and the metallic tang of medical equipment.

The moment the door swung wider, Gabriela's head snapped up.

Her eyes locked on mine—and everything else ceased to exist.

She didn't hesitate.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, bare feet slapping against the cold tile floor with a soft smack. Three quick, unsteady steps—hospital gown fluttering around her thighs—and she ran straight into my arms.

Her body collided with mine hard enough to drive the air from my lungs for a heartbeat. Her massive tits crushed against my chest—soft, impossibly full, impossible to flatten no matter how tightly she squeezed.

The thin cotton of the gown might as well have been nothing; I could feel every curve, every warm swell molding to me, nipples stiffening instantly through the fabric from the sudden friction and adrenaline. They pillowed against my ribs, heavy and decadent, rising and falling with her ragged breaths.

She buried her face in the crook of my neck, arms locking around my shoulders with desperate strength, fingers digging into the back of my jacket like she was anchoring herself to reality. Her dark hair spilled over my shoulder, tickling my skin, carrying that faint vanilla scent that had somehow survived the hospital, the worry, the fear.

I wrapped her up immediately—one arm banding around her waist, pulling her flush against me, the other sliding up to cradle the back of her head. My fingers threaded through her thick hair, stroking gently, grounding her.

"Jack..." Her voice cracked against my skin—raw, trembling. "Are you okay...?"

I felt every shudder that ran through her—relief crashing into fear, fear giving way to adrenaline, adrenaline melting into something softer, needier. Her heartbeat hammered against my sternum, fast and frantic, syncing unevenly with mine.

"Yeah," I murmured, lips brushing her temple in a slow, deliberate kiss. "I'm okay. Didn't you hear the news? It was all a misunderstanding. Everything's cleared up now. Press conference worked."

She pulled back just enough to search my face—eyes glassy with unshed tears, pupils wide as they scanned every inch of me. Looking for blood, bruises, lies, anything that would shatter the fragile relief she was clinging to. Her hands slid down to my chest, palms flattening over my heart as if feeling the steady thump would prove I was real, solid, unharmed.

"I was so terrified," Gabriela whispered, voice fracturing on every other syllable, thin and trembling as a wire stretched to breaking. "When the news broke... they kept saying you... that you'd tortured Diaz until he was barely human. I told myself it was lies. Over and over. That you would never—never—become that kind of monster."

Her forehead dropped hard against mine. Our breaths tangled—short, uneven, fever-hot against each other's lips.

"I kept seeing you in some freezing cell instead. Bruised. Drugged. Gone. That I'd never feel this again..." Her palms pressed flat to my chest as though checking I was really solid. "Never hear your voice. Never have you."

Her full breasts stayed crushed against me, rising and falling too fast, nipples still peaked and insistent beneath the thin hospital gown. When her hips gave one small, helpless roll—grinding her heat along my thigh—it wasn't deliberate. It was instinct. Need speaking when words failed.

Sarah remained seated across the room, arms loosely folded, face deliberately calm. Only the faintest softening at the corners of her eyes betrayed her. When Gabriela's gaze flicked away, Sarah gave me the smallest nod.

Gabriela finally registered Sarah's presence again. She jerked back a fraction, cheeks and throat blooming crimson. She bit her lower lip, eyes darting between us, fresh worry creasing her face.

I slid both hands to her waist, anchoring her against me. "Auntie," I said softly, "I'm okay. Really. How's Diaz doing?"

The question pulled her back like a lifeline. She blinked hard, refocusing. Her fingers curled around my forearms for balance.

"The swelling in his brain is dropping faster than they hoped," she said, steadier now, though the thickness of unshed tears still clung to every word. "They think he might speak soon... maybe even move a finger or two. They're cautiously optimistic." Her eyes slid toward the bed.

Diaz lay motionless except for the shallow mechanical rise of his chest. Gabriela's expression flickered—pity warring with something colder. Resentment, perhaps. For the chaos his name had dragged into their lives.

She turned back to me, searching. "I talk to him anyway. I don't know if any part of him hears... but someone has to."

I brushed a tear track from her cheekbone with my thumb. "That's good. Let him heal. The important thing is we're still here."

I glanced over her shoulder. "Officer Sarah..."

Sarah rose smoothly, posture easy but alert. The ghost of a smile touched her mouth. "Hey, Jack. You look better than the last time I saw you."

Professional on the surface—polite, measured. But when Gabriela glanced away for half a second, Sarah's eyes locked on mine, and she gave one slow, filthy wink. Later.

I let the corner of my lip twitch—just enough for her to see—then schooled my face neutral again.

Sarah stepped closer, voice dropping. "She asked about you every hour. I told her you'd show. She didn't believe me until you walked through that door." She looked at Gabriela with real warmth. "She's tougher than she looks."

Gabriela managed a shaky smile. "Thank you... for staying. For everything."

After a short silence, I said, "Officer Sarah, there's a case file being built against Javier and Sergio. Officer Jayden and Lawyer Lorena are running point."

Sarah's brows lifted slightly.

"Come with me," I told her. "I'll introduce you to Jayden."

I pressed a soft kiss to Gabriela's temple, murmured "I'll be right back," and guided Sarah out.

In the corridor, Jayden straightened when she saw us. Quick introductions passed—handshakes, professional nods.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us sat in a quiet booth at the hospital-adjacent restaurant. Jayden and Sarah spoke about case details in low voices while I mostly listened.

Eventually, Jayden turned to me. "Jack... what do you want done with Diaz?"

I held her gaze. "I want him turned. A cooperating witness. He points at Sergio and Javier's collaboration, names every other dirty official he knows. We paint him as a corrupt cop who saw the light—his testimony buys him protection instead of a life sentence."

My eyes slid to Sarah. "I know he killed your father. I know part of you wants him gone. But letting him live long enough to hate every single day of the cage we build around him... that's worse."

Sarah studied me for a long time. Then she gave one slow, decisive nod.

After lunch, Jayden took Sarah to meet Lorena and the rest of the legal team Julie had pulled in. I headed back alone.

When I slipped into the room, Diaz's eyes were open—cloudy, unfocused, but awake.

I stepped behind Gabriela and wrapped both arms around her waist, my lips brushing her ear. "Auntie... I missed you so fucking much."

She froze. Heat exploded across her cheeks. "Jack—Diaz is watching," she hissed, in a panicked whisper.

I pressed my hips forward so she could feel exactly how hard I was. "He can watch," I breathed against the shell of her ear. "My cock's been aching for your ass since the second I walked out."

A tiny, choked sound escaped her. "Aaaah... hmmm..."

I steered her backward into the attached bathroom and locked the door.

The moment it clicked shut, her eyes met mine—wide, burning, ashamed, starving.

I pinched her nipple through the gown. Hard.

"Aaaaaah—don't—"

I steered her backward until her calves hit the edge of the closed toilet lid. With one smooth motion, I lifted her left thigh high, hooking it over the porcelain so her legs splayed wide—vulva parted, dark curls glistening already, the tight rosebud of her asshole exposed and flinching under the harsh fluorescent light.

Her hands flew to my shoulders for balance. "Jack—wait—please—"

I didn't wait.

My right hand slid between her cheeks, middle finger circling the puckered ring once, twice, teasing the sensitive skin until it softened just enough. Then I pressed the pad of my thumb firmly against the center and pushed—slow, inexorable—until the first tight knuckle slipped past the resisting muscle.

"Aaah—!" Her spine arched violently. The sound that tore out of her was half sob, half whine.

"Shhh, Auntie," I murmured against the damp skin below her ear. "You said you needed to pee. So pee."

Her inner thighs quivered. I could feel the frantic little pulses running through her pelvic floor—trying to clamp down, trying to hold everything in.

But my thumb was already buried to the second knuckle, thick and unyielding, pressing steadily inward until I felt the deeper resistance of her rectal wall. I curled it gently, stroking the thin membrane that separated my finger from her full bladder.

Her breath hitched into shallow, panicked pants. "No—no—no—Jack, I can't—not like this—oh God—"

I twisted my wrist half an inch—barely a movement—and pushed deeper still.

Her whole lower belly jumped. A tiny, hot droplet escaped her slit first—clear, warm, sliding down the inside of her thigh. She clamped her eyes shut, mortified color flooding from her chest to her hairline.

"Jack—please—take it out—I'm gonna—"

-x-X-x-

I hooked my thumb harder, pulling back just enough to stretch the ring outward before shoving in again—slow, deliberate fucking motions now, no more than an inch or two, but enough to massage directly against the swollen base of her bladder.

Her knees buckled. I caught her weight with my free arm around her waist, pinning her upright so she couldn't escape the violation.

"Let it go," I whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Let me feel how full you are. How desperate."

A broken whimper. Her nails dug into my shoulders.

I added a second finger—index sliding in alongside the thumb—stretching her asshole wider. The sudden extra girth made her gasp so sharply it almost sounded like a sob. Her pelvic muscles fluttered wildly, fighting the intrusion, but every clench only rubbed her sensitive inner walls against my knuckles.

Another hot spurt escaped her pussy—longer this time, hissing faintly against the tile between her feet. She tried to squeeze her thighs together; I forced them wider with my knee.

"No hiding," I told her softly. "I want to see it. Every drop."

Her head fell back against my shoulder. Tears leaked from the corners of her closed eyes. "I—I can't stop it—Jack—I'm sorry—I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be sorry." I pumped my fingers slowly now—three shallow thrusts—each one pressing ruthlessly against that overfull spot inside her. "Just let go for me."

Her body gave one last, heroic shudder of resistance.

Then the dam broke.

A hard, hissing stream erupted from her urethra—golden and scalding—splashing noisily against the floor, arcing out in an uncontrollable jet that soaked my jeans, the tiles, the base of the toilet. She screamed into the heel of her own hand, the sound muffled and frantic. Her asshole spasmed rhythmically around my buried fingers—clenching, releasing, clenching again—as if trying to milk the shame right out of her.

I kept fucking her ass through it—slow, steady, matching the helpless pulsing of her sphincter. Each contraction dragged another gush from her bladder. The stream weakened, stuttered, but every time she thought it was over, I curled my fingers again and another hot spurt would jerk out of her, accompanied by a fresh, humiliated sob.

"Look at you," I breathed, voice thick with hunger. "Pissing yourself because I've got two fingers stuffed up your tight little asshole. You're shaking so hard, Auntie... feels good, doesn't it?"

She could only whimper—wordless, broken sounds. Her free hand clawed at my forearm, not to push me away, but to hold on as the last trembling trickles ran down her inner thighs.

When the stream finally tapered to a few pathetic drips, her legs gave out completely.

I caught her, lowered her gently so she straddled the closed lid, thighs still spread obscenely wide. My fingers stayed buried inside her—still, now, letting her feel the stretch, the fullness, the lingering heat.

She was crying quietly—shoulders trembling, face buried against my neck. But when I finally eased my fingers out—slow, so she felt every slick inch dragging free—her hips gave one tiny, involuntary buck, chasing the loss.

I brought my wet hand to her lips.

"Taste," I ordered softly.

Her eyes fluttered open—glassy, dazed. She hesitated only a heartbeat before parting her lips. I slid my thumb across her tongue; she closed around it immediately, sucking weakly, tasting herself—salt, musk, shame.

"Good girl," I murmured, kissing her temple. "Now you're going to sit right here, legs open, dripping on this lid while I fuck your ass until you come again. And you're not allowed to hide your face this time."

Her breath hitched.

She nodded—small, trembling, utterly surrendered.

I had turned her around again after that first brutal entry into her ass. No more sink. No more bending over porcelain. I wanted her facing me—wanted to watch every filthy expression as I ruined her completely.

She was straddling the toilet lid now, legs forced wide apart, feet braced on the cool edge of the bowl itself so her hips hovered just above the plastic seat. Her ruined cunt gaped slightly from earlier abuse, still leaking thin trickles of her own squirt mixed with the remnants of my earlier loads, but it was her asshole I was claiming now—stretched obscenely around the thick base of my cock, the dark ring pulled taut and shiny with lube and her own slick.

I gripped her hips—fingers digging into the soft flesh just above her hipbones—and pulled her down hard while I thrust up.

One long, merciless slide.

All the way to the hilt.

My cock disappeared completely inside her bowels in a single, burning thrust—balls mashed tight against the wet cleft of her ass, pubic bone grinding against her stretched perineum. The sudden fullness made her lower belly bulge faintly outward; I could see the obscene outline of my cock pressing up from inside her guts.

Gabriela's entire body seized.

Her mouth flew open in a silent scream at first—eyes rolling straight back, whites showing, lashes fluttering wildly. She tried so hard to hold it in. Jaw clenched. Throat working. Nails raking bloody furrows down my forearms as she fought to keep the sound locked behind her teeth.

But she couldn't.

The dam broke almost instantly.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH—FUCK—FUCK—YOUR COCK IS ALL THE WAY IN MY ASS—TO THE HILT—OH GOD—IT'S IN MY FUCKING GUTS—SO DEEP—SO FUCKING DEEP—YESSSSS—!"

The scream ripped out of her—high, pornographic, shameless—echoing off the tiled walls like a siren. No more dignified whimpers. No more muffled sobs. Just raw, needy, filthy noise pouring from her throat as her asshole spasmed violently around my buried length.

I haven't moved yet. I just held her there—impaled completely—letting her feel every thick inch throbbing inside her rectum, every ridge dragging against her sensitive inner walls, the fat head lodged so deep it felt like it was pressing against her spine.

Her whole pelvis jerked involuntarily. A violent shudder ran through her.

Then—without warning—her cunt convulsed.

A hard, explosive squirt erupted from her slit—clear, forceful, arcing out in a powerful jet that splashed noisily against my lower abs, ran in hot rivulets down my balls, and puddled on the toilet lid beneath her. She squirted hard—uncontrollably—each rhythmic clench of her asshole milking my cock in perfect sync with the gushing from her pussy.

"YESSS—SQUIRTING—SQUIRTING SO HARD ON YOUR COCK—IT'S IN MY ASS—FUCK—MY ASS IS COMING—MY CUNT IS FUCKING PISSING AGAIN—AAAAAHHHH—CAN'T STOP—FUCK—FUCK—FUCKKKK!!!"

Her voice cracked into desperate, pornstar wails—every word dripping with filthy surrender. She tried to bite her lip, tried to clamp a hand over her mouth, but another brutal squirt ripped through her, and her arm fell limp, fingers splayed uselessly against my chest as more clear fluid jetted out in messy, rhythmic bursts.

I started moving then.

Short, savage thrusts—never pulling out more than a couple of inches before slamming back to the hilt—each one forcing her ass to stretch anew around my girth, each one making that faint bulge in her lower belly appear and disappear.

"OHHH GOD—DEEPER—FUCK MY ASS DEEPER—RAM IT IN—MAKE MY GUTS TAKE EVERY INCH—YESSS—YOUR BALLS ARE SLAPPING MY CUNT—FUCK—FUCK—I'M GONNA COME AGAIN—SQUIRTING—SQUIRTING ALL OVER YOU—AAAAAHHHH!!!"

She was screaming nonstop now—head thrown back, throat exposed, tears streaming down her temples—every thrust punching another filthy moan out of her. Her asshole gripped me like a velvet fist—rippling, fluttering, spasming in helpless waves as another massive squirt exploded from her cunt, soaking my thighs, the toilet lid, the floor.

The wet slap-slap-slap of skin on skin mixed with the obscene squelching from her stuffed ass and the hissing spray of her release.

I leaned in, mouth finding her neck—biting down hard enough to leave marks—while one hand slid between us to pinch and twist her swollen clit.

That was the final trigger.

Her whole body locked up—back arching so violently the toilet lid creaked beneath her—asshole clamping down in violent, milking pulses that dragged me right to the edge.

"CUMMMING—CUMMMING IN MY ASS—FILL MY ASS—BREED MY FUCKING ASSHOLE—OH GOD—YESSS—SPURT INSIDE ME—FLOOD MY GUTS—MAKE ME LEAK FOR DAYS—AAAAAHHHH!!!"

I slammed in one last time—buried to the absolute hilt—and erupted.

Thick, scalding ropes blasted straight into her bowels—pulse after heavy pulse—flooding her rectum until I could feel the pressure building, her lower belly swelling slightly under my palm as I pressed down over her pubic mound.

"TAKE IT—FUCK—TAKE EVERY DROP IN YOUR ASS—FEEL ME BREEDING YOUR GUTS—"

"YESSSSS—I FEEL IT—YOUR CUM IS SPURTING SO DEEP—SO HOT—SO MUCH—MY ASS IS FULL—MY ASS IS FUCKING FULL OF YOUR LOAD—OHHHH GOD—I'M SHAKING—I'M STILL SQUIRTING—FUCK—FUCK—I'M YOUR ANAL SLUT—AUNTIE'S YOUR DIRTY ANAL WHORE—AAAAAHHHH!!!"

Her final orgasm tore through her—body convulsing, squirting in weak, trembling jets now as her asshole milked me dry, drawing out every last thick spurt deep into her stuffed bowels.

Gabriela's screams had dissolved into ragged, hiccuping gasps. Her head lolled against my shoulder, sweat-slick hair plastered to her cheek, mouth open in a silent, shattered O.

Every muscle in her body was trembling—thighs quivering around my hips, toes curling uselessly against the porcelain rim, her ruined cunt still twitching with aftershocks, leaking the last pathetic dribbles of clear fluid onto the already-drenched toilet lid.

I stayed buried inside her for one final, possessive heartbeat—feeling the slow, exhausted flutter of her asshole around my softening cock, the obscene warmth of my cum sloshing deep in her guts. Then I began to withdraw.

Slow at first—inch by slick, cum-coated inch—until just the swollen head remained, stretching her abused ring wide. Her sphincter clung desperately, fluttering like it didn't want to let go.

I pulled the rest of the way out with one deliberate tug.

A loud, wet pop echoed off the tiles—the unmistakable sound of a well-fucked asshole releasing its prize.

Instantly, thick white ropes of my cum flooded out of her gaping hole in a slow, obscene cascade. It poured in heavy, viscous strands—first dripping, then gushing—running down the cleft of her ass, coating her perineum, sliding over her swollen pussy lips, and finally splattering onto the toilet lid beneath her spread thighs.

The hole itself stayed open—perfectly molded to the shape of my cock, a dark, glistening oval that winked helplessly with every aftershock tremor running through her pelvis.

You could see straight inside her: pink inner walls glistening with lube and semen, the deeper tunnel still pulsing faintly, trying to close but too wrecked to manage it yet.

Gabriela let out a broken, mortified whimper at the sensation—the sudden emptiness, the humiliating rush of warmth leaking from her most private place.

"Ohhh... God... it's... it's coming out... so much..." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, cracking on every word.

Her legs gave out completely then—knees buckling inward, body starting to fold forward like a marionette with cut strings.

I caught her instantly—both arms banding around her waist, hauling her upright against my chest so her weight rested fully on me. Her full breasts crushed against my ribs, nipples still painfully hard, scraping my skin with every shuddering breath she took.

I could feel the rapid hammer of her heart against mine, the slick heat of her dripping ass pressing against my thigh as more cum continued to trickle out in lazy pulses.

"Easy, Auntie," I murmured against her temple, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through damp hair. "I've got you. You're not collapsing on my watch."

She clung to me—nails digging weakly into my shoulders, face buried in the crook of my neck. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks, mixing with the sweat already there. But they weren't just from shame or overstimulation anymore; there was something softer underneath, something raw and grateful.

"I... I can't believe..." she whispered, voice trembling. "I let you... in the hospital... with him right outside... and I... I came so hard... I pissed myself... I squirted... I screamed like a whore..."

Her asshole gave another weak clench—pushing out another thick glob of cum that slid down her inner thigh in a slow, warm trail.

I kissed the salty corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower—nipping gently at the pulse point beneath her ear.

"You didn't just let me," I said, voice low and rough. "You begged for it. You milked every drop. You squirted so hard the floor's still soaked. And you loved every filthy second."

A tiny, broken sob-laugh escaped her. Her hips gave one small, involuntary roll—grinding her leaking ass against my thigh like her body was already missing the fullness.

"I... I did," she admitted, so quiet I almost didn't hear it. "I hate that I did... but I did."

I shifted my grip—sliding one hand down to cup the curve of her ass, thumb brushing feather-light over the still-gaping rim. She hissed at the contact—too sensitive—but didn't pull away. Instead, she pressed back just a fraction, chasing the touch.

"Shhh," I soothed. "You're perfect like this. Ruined. Full of me. Leaking my cum all over this dirty bathroom floor while Diaz sleeps in the next room."

Her breath hitched again—half sob, half moan.

We stepped out of the steamy bathroom together, skin still flushed and damp from the shower. The new clothes from SUDIX Store—soft black linen shirt and tailored trousers for me, a simple yet elegant charcoal wrap dress for Gabriela—fit like they'd been waiting for us.

She kept smoothing the fabric over her hips with trembling fingers, glancing down at herself as thighs that were still trembling.

Gabriela froze as I bought Shadow Guards and assigned them to protect Gabriela.

Four tall, silent figures materialized from the darkness near the walls: featureless silhouettes in matte black tactical gear, faces obscured by smooth obsidian masks.

They didn't move. They didn't breathe audibly. They simply were—stationary sentinels, eyes glowing faintly crimson behind the masks.

Gabriela's hand flew to her mouth. "Jack... what—"

I stepped behind her, arms sliding around her waist, chin resting gently on her shoulder. My voice stayed low, calm, meant only for her.

"These are shadow guards," I explained quietly. "They answer only to me. Invisible when I want them to be. Untouchable. They'll stay with you—always. Nothing touches you without going through them first. No one sees them unless I allow it."

She turned her head just enough to look at me, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and lingering aftershocks from what we'd just done. "You... you can do this? Command shadows? Make them protect people?"

I pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her neck—right over the faint bite mark I'd left earlier. "I can do a lot more than that, Auntie. Powers I've kept hidden for a long time. Telepathy. Shadow manipulation. A few other things that make life... interesting. I didn't want to scare you. But after today—after everything—I'm done hiding them from you."

Before she could ask more, I raised one hand. Two of the shadow figures peeled away from the wall like smoke given form. They bowed once—silent, fluid—then vanished into the darkness of the corridor beyond the door.

"They're going to Sarah and Lorena now," I said. "Same orders. Protect. Observe. Intervene only if necessary. No one will touch them."

Gabriela swallowed hard, then nodded—small, trusting. "Thank you."

We turned toward the bed.

Diaz's eyes were open—red-rimmed, bloodshot, fixed on us with glassy hatred. His chest rose and fell in shallow, mechanical rhythm, but the machines couldn't hide the fury burning behind his stare.

He'd heard everything. Every scream. Every filthy plea. Every wet slap of skin and pornographic wail echoed through the thin hospital walls while his own mother begged for my cock in her ass.

I schooled my face into genuine-looking concern, stepping closer to the bed with Gabriela still tucked against my side.

"Brother Diaz," I said softly, voice thick with feigned worry. "Get well soon. Aunt is waiting for you. We all are."

Gabriela stepped forward, reaching out to brush a damp lock of hair from his forehead—motherly, tender, oblivious to the venom in his gaze. "Yeah... Diaz... we're all here for you. You can't give up on yourself. Not now."

Inside my head, his thoughts crashed like broken glass—telepathy letting me hear every jagged shard.

[Bitch getting fucked by the enemy... who did this to your son... cut off his leg and hands... better to die than live like this...]

I didn't flinch. Didn't react. Just let the hatred wash over me like cold water.

Instead, I reached for the remote on the bedside table and clicked the wall-mounted TV on.

The news was already playing—volume low but clear.

Grainy footage: Sergio and Javier being dragged in handcuffs from a private airstrip, faces contorted in panic. They were screaming at the cameras even as officers shoved them toward armored vans.

"Jack is the devil!" Javier shrieked, spit flying. "He's mentally disturbed—dangerous! He framed us!"

Sergio's voice cracked higher: "And that corrupt piece of shit Diaz—he was in on everything! We're being scapegoated!"

Cut to a stern-faced anchor.

"New developments in the high-profile corruption scandal: leaked documents and intercepted communications have implicated former Officer Diaz in a web of bribery, evidence tampering, and ties to organized crime figures Sergio Alvarez and Javier Morales. Authorities confirm both Alvarez and Morales were apprehended this morning attempting to flee the country. Charges against Diaz are pending full review, but sources say his condition remains critical following an alleged assault."

Gabriela's hand flew to her chest. She staggered back a step, eyes locked on the screen.

"What... what is going on? My Diaz... he would never do these things..."

Her voice cracked—genuine shock, genuine pain.

I pulled her into my arms immediately, turning her away from the TV, cradling her face against my chest so she couldn't see Diaz's burning stare.

"Don't worry," I said, voice low and steady, pretending my own shock. "I'll never let anyone wrong my brother Diaz. I'll go talk to Officer Jayden right now—get this straightened out. Whatever's happening, we'll fix it."

She clung to me—fingers twisting in my new shirt—tears soaking the fabric. "Promise me, Jack... promise you'll protect him."

I kissed the top of her head, eyes lifting to meet Diaz's over her shoulder.

His thoughts roared again: [I'll kill you... I'll kill you slow...]

I gave him the smallest, coldest smile—gone in an instant, invisible to Gabriela.

"I promise," I murmured into her hair. "No one will hurt him. Not while I'm here."

The shadow guards in the corners shifted—barely perceptible—ready.

Outside, the corridor lights buzzed softly.

Sarah and Lorena were safe.

Jayden had the arrests locked down.

Diaz was caged in his own broken body, drowning in the truth he couldn't speak.

And Gabriela—sweet, shattered Gabriela—was pressed against me, trusting me completely.

I held her tighter.

Everything was falling exactly where it belonged.

I stepped into the corridor, the door clicking softly shut behind me. Gabriela's muffled voice drifted through—soft, soothing, still trying to reach whatever was left of her son. I didn't linger to listen. The plan was already in motion; every piece had to fall precisely.

I pulled my phone and dialed Jayden.

She picked up on the first ring.

"Everything is ready, Jack," she said without preamble. Her voice was crisp and professional, but there was an undercurrent of satisfaction.

"We just need Diaz's testimony to seal the coffin on the whole network. Even without it, though, we've got Sergio and Javier cold—flight manifests, burner phones, bank transfers, witness statements from three separate informants. They're done."

"I know," I replied, leaning against the wall, eyes scanning the empty hallway. "But we're not settling for 'done.' We're going for airtight. And we're going to do it in a way that keeps Gabriela on our side."

A short pause. I could almost hear Jayden's mind turning.

"You want to stage it," she said slowly.

"Exactly. Bring your team here. Ten minutes. Full show—cuffs, Miranda rights, the works. Storm in, read out the charges in front of Gabriela. Every crime. The bribes. The evidence tampering. The hits. Including the murder of Sarah's father. Make it brutal. Make her hear it all."

Jayden exhaled through her nose. "She's going to break."

"She needs to break," I said flatly. "She needs to see him for what he is, not the boy she raised. Then I walk in—calm, concerned, the grieving 'brother.' I pull strings, broker the deal. Witness protection, immunity on all his crimes in exchange for full testimony against every dirty cop, Sergio, Javier, the entire chain. He lives—caged, but breathing. She gets to keep her son... sort of. And she owes me everything."

Jayden was quiet for a beat.

"That's cold, Jack."

"It's necessary," I corrected. "Diaz hates me already. Let him rot knowing I saved his worthless life. Let him testify and watch his whole world burn while he sits in a cell, wondering how the devil he once called brother ended up owning his freedom."

Another pause.

"Ten minutes," she said finally. "We'll come loud. No subtlety. You want Gabriela to remember every second."

"Good. And Jayden?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure Sarah's not in the room when you list the murder. She doesn't need to hear it again. Not like this."

"Understood."

The line went dead.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and exhaled slowly. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere down the hall, a nurse's cart rattled. Ordinary hospital sounds. Ordinary day.

Nothing ordinary about what was coming.

I waited exactly nine minutes and forty seconds before I heard the heavy footsteps—boots on linoleum, multiple sets.

Jayden led the way, flanked by four uniformed officers and two plainclothes detectives. They moved with purpose, no chatter, faces set in grim lines. One carried a thick file folder stamped with the department seal.

They didn't knock.

The door banged open.

Gabriela jumped, hand flying to her throat. Diaz's eyes snapped wide—red-rimmed fury instantly replaced by something colder: calculation, fear.

Jayden stepped inside first, badge already out.

"Former Officer Diaz," she said, voice ringing clear and hard. "You are under arrest for corruption, bribery, conspiracy to commit murder, evidence tampering, obstruction of justice, and the premeditated murder of Detective Marcus Hale—Sarah Hale's father. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

Gabriela staggered back, colliding with the bed rail.

"No," she whispered. "No—no—this isn't right. My son—he wouldn't—"

Jayden didn't pause. She opened the file and began reading aloud—dates, amounts, names, wire transfers, burner-phone logs, a grainy still from a security cam showing Diaz handing an envelope to one of Sergio's men.

Then the worst: the night Marcus Gomez was found with two bullets in the back of the head, execution-style. Witness testimony placing Diaz at the scene. Ballistics match. Motive: Gomez had been closing in on the network.

Gabriela's knees buckled. She grabbed the bed for support, tears streaming silently now.

Diaz didn't speak. He couldn't. But his thoughts screamed through my mind like static: [They've got me. They've fucking got me. That bastard Jack—he set this up. He's going to watch me burn.]

Jayden nodded to the uniforms.

One stepped forward with cuffs.

Gabriela lunged—instinct, not thought—placing herself between them and the bed.

"You can't take him! He's hurt—he's barely awake—please—"

That was my cue.

I stepped through the doorway—calm, composed, the same man who'd just held her while she cried.

"Officer Jayden," I said quietly, voice carrying just enough authority to halt everything. "Hold on."

All eyes turned to me.

Gabriela's face crumpled with desperate hope.

"Jack..."

I moved to her side, arm sliding protectively around her shoulders.

"I know what the evidence says," I told the room, loud enough for everyone.

"But I also know Diaz. He's family. And if there's even a chance he can make this right..." I looked at Jayden.

Jayden's expression didn't change, but she played her part perfectly—crossing her arms, considering. "There's a deal on the table. Full immunity on all charges in exchange for complete, truthful testimony against every name in that file—Sergio, Javier, the corrupt brass, everyone. Witness protection. He walks away from prison. But only if he cooperates. Fully."

Jayden's arms stayed crossed, her face a mask of professional detachment, but her eyes flicked to me for the briefest second—acknowledgment that the script had just veered exactly as planned.

Gabriela's voice cracked like thin ice. "Diaz... is it true? Did you do those things?" She took a trembling step toward the bed, hands outstretched as though she could still reach the boy she'd raised.

"Is this how your father and I taught you? Tell me it's not true. Please... tell me it's not true."

Diaz's mouth worked—lips parting, throat straining—but no sound came. His eyes bulged with fury, veins standing out on his neck. Inside my mind, his thoughts roared like a trapped animal:

[This bitch—what right does she have to call herself Mom when she's spreading for my enemy? I heard every moan, every filthy scream. I'll kill her. I'll kill them both. Why the fuck can't I speak—]

I released the subtle hold I'd placed on his vocal cords. Just enough. Just now.

The words exploded out of him—raw, venomous, spit flying.

"Bitch! You slut!"

The room froze.

Gabriela recoiled as though slapped. Her hand flew to her mouth; tears spilled instantly, silent and heavy. She was happy to hear that her son can speak, but he just called her a slut. " Son.. You can speak now. That's great."

Jayden's posture stiffened—hand drifting toward her holster out of pure reflex—but she didn't draw. She simply watched, letting the moment burn.

Diaz wasn't done. His voice cracked higher, ragged with rage and humiliation.

"Yeah, I can speak now—and I heard every loud fucking moan, you whore! You're not qualified to be a mother. You let him—him—fuck you like some cheap—"

"Brother Diaz!" I cut in, voice sharp but laced with feigned anguish.

I stepped forward, pulling Gabriela into my arms before she could collapse. She folded against my chest instantly, face buried in my shirt, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "It's not Aunt's fault. It's mine. All mine. Please... don't blame her."

I held her tighter—one arm locked around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head—while I lifted my gaze to meet Diaz's over the top of her dark hair.

My eyes changed.

Not dramatically. No glow, no theatrics. Just a subtle shift—pupils narrowing to slits for a heartbeat, the faintest crimson flicker at the edges, gone so fast most people would dismiss it as a trick of the light.

Diaz saw it.

His whole body jerked once—like a man touched by a live wire. The rage in his stare fractured into something colder, more primal: recognition. Fear. The dawning certainty that whatever power he thought he still had was nothing next to what stood between him and the woman he wanted to strangle.

His thoughts went quiet. Not silent—quiet. The frantic screaming in his head reduced to a low, defeated hiss.

I can't win. Not against this. Not against him.

He swallowed once—audible in the sudden stillness.

Then he turned his head toward Jayden, voice hoarse but steady.

"Officer Jayden..." He licked cracked lips. "I can testify. I will testify. Everything. Sergio. Javier. The brass. The hits. All of it. Just... get me the deal."

Jayden didn't smile. Didn't gloat. She simply nodded once—crisp, final.

"Smart choice." She glanced at the uniforms. "He's cooperating. We'll transport him to a secure facility for a formal statement and protection arrangement."

Gabriela didn't look up. She couldn't. Her fingers twisted in my shirt, knuckles white, face still hidden against me. Fresh tears soaked through the fabric.

I stroked her hair—slow, soothing circles—while murmuring just loud enough for her to hear.

"I've got you. I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt him. And I won't."

She gave one small, shattered nod against my chest.

Jayden gave a curt nod to the officers. "Get him prepped for transport. Full medical escort—ambulance is waiting at the loading bay. No stops, no visitors until he's in the secure wing."

Two uniforms moved in smoothly, unlocking the bed brakes with practiced efficiency. The third adjusted the IV pole and oxygen line while the fourth pushed from the footboard.

Diaz's eyes stayed locked on us—on me—until the very last second, that crimson flicker of hatred burning behind the glaze of pain and defeat. His thoughts brushed mine one final time, low and venomous:

This isn't over. You think you've caged me? I'll sing every name... and then I'll find a way to make you pay.

The wheels squeaked against the linoleum as they rolled him out. The door swung shut behind them with a soft pneumatic hiss, leaving only the echo of retreating footsteps and the distant beep of monitors fading down the corridor.

Gabriela's arms tightened around my waist like iron bands. She buried her face against my chest, body trembling so hard I could feel every shudder ripple through her. Her full breasts mashed harder against me—soft, heavy, still flushed and sensitive from everything we'd done in that locked bathroom less than an hour ago.

The thin fabric of her new charcoal dress did nothing to hide how her nipples pebbled against my ribs with every ragged breath she took. Grief and shame poured out of her in quiet, choking sobs.

"I didn't know..." she whispered, voice fracturing. "My own son... doing those things. All those years... I thought he was just... lost. Angry. But this? Murder? Corruption? I've failed as a mother. Completely."

Her fingers clawed at the back of my shirt, bunching the linen like she needed something solid to hold onto. Another sob wracked her, pressing her hips instinctively forward until her pelvis ground against my thigh—unconscious, desperate, seeking comfort in the only way her body still knew how.

I slid one hand up her spine—slow, firm—until my palm cupped the nape of her neck. My other arm stayed locked around her waist, keeping her pinned to me so she couldn't pull away even if she wanted to.

"You can't be blamed for this," I murmured against her hair, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Not even a little. You raised him with love. You gave him everything. The choices he made after that? Those are his. Not yours."

She shook her head against me, tears soaking through my shirt in hot patches. "I should have seen it. I should have known. I was too busy... too blind... too—"

"Too human," I cut in gently. I tilted her chin up with two fingers, forcing her red-rimmed eyes to meet mine. Mascara had run in faint black tracks down her cheeks; her lips were swollen from biting them to keep the sobs inside. She looked wrecked—beautifully, heartbreakingly wrecked.

"You loved him," I continued, thumb stroking the tear track on her cheekbone. "You still love him. That doesn't make you a failure. It makes you his mother. And right now, he needs you more than ever—even if he hates you for it. Even if he hates me."

Her breath hitched. Fresh tears welled up, spilling over.

"But he called me... those things..."

I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers so our breaths mingled—warm, unsteady.

"He's in pain. He's scared. He's lashing out at the one person who still gives a damn. Let him hate me instead. I can take it." My voice dropped lower, rougher.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a second. When they opened again, something raw flickered there—grief, yes, but also gratitude, surrender, and that dark, lingering heat we'd stoked in the bathroom.

She pressed closer—deliberately this time—her breasts flattening harder against my chest, hips rocking in the tiniest, neediest motion. A soft, broken whimper escaped her lips.

"Jack..." Her voice was barely audible. "Hold me. Please. Just... don't let go."

I tightened my arms around her until there was no space left between us. One hand slid down to the small of her back, fingers splaying wide, pressing her pelvis flush against me so she could feel exactly how hard I still was—how the sight of her crying, clinging, breasts heaving against me only made me want her more.

Gabriela's sobs had quieted to soft, hiccuping breaths, but her body stayed glued to mine—hips rocking in tiny, instinctive circles, grinding her soaked dress against the thick ridge of my cock. She needed this. Needed oblivion. Needed me to erase the echo of her son's venom, the weight of her guilt, the image of that hospital bed rolling away.

"Come on," I murmured against her temple. "We're leaving. Now."

She didn't argue. She just nodded—small, broken—and let me guide her out of the hospital, one arm locked around her waist, the other shielding her from curious glances in the lobby. The shadow guards followed at a distance, silent as smoke.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the penthouse suite of the Meridian Hotel—top floor, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights, heavy blackout curtains half-drawn. The door had barely clicked shut before Gabriela turned into me again, arms wrapping around my neck, face buried in my throat.

"Don't let go," she whispered, voice raw. "Please... just don't let go."

I backed her toward the massive bed, hands roaming—sliding up her thighs under the dress, cupping her bare ass, feeling the sticky remnants of my earlier cum still leaking from her stretched hole. She whimpered when my fingers brushed the sensitive rim.

"I won't," I promised, voice low and rough. "Not tonight. Not ever."

I kissed her then—hard, claiming—swallowing her little sob and turning it into a moan. She kissed back desperately, tongue hungry, nails raking down my back through the linen shirt.

When I yanked the dress over her head in one rough tug, she didn't flinch. She just stood there—naked, flushed, tits heaving, nipples dark and swollen, thighs slick with our mess.

She pushed me backward until my calves hit the edge of the mattress. I sat.

She climbed onto my lap immediately—straddling me, knees bracketing my hips, cunt already dripping onto my trousers.

Gabriela's sobs had quieted into ragged, needy breaths by the time we reached the hotel bed. She shoved me down onto my back the second my knees hit the mattress, climbing on top like she owned me—eyes wild, mascara-streaked, tits heaving with every frantic inhale.

"Fuck me, Jack," she hissed, voice cracked but dripping with raw hunger. "Fuck me so hard I can't remember anything. I don't want to think about that ungrateful little shit anymore. I want your cock to erase him—every scream, every word he spat at me. Pound it out of my head."

She yanked my trousers open with shaking hands, freeing my cock—already throbbing, leaking at the tip. Without hesitation, she straddled me, lined up, and slammed herself down—taking every thick inch in one brutal drop. Her cunt swallowed me to the root, walls fluttering violently around the sudden stretch.

"Fuuuuck—yes—there—right there—ram it in me, you bastard—make my pussy forget I ever had a son!"

She started riding immediately—hard, sloppy, hips snapping down like she was trying to break herself on me. Her nails raked bloody trails across my chest as she leaned forward, tits swinging in my face.

She grabbed one of her own breasts, squeezing it roughly, pinching the nipple until it turned a deeper red, then shoved it toward my mouth.

"Suck it—suck my fat tit while I ride your cock—bite it—mark your dirty auntie's nipple like the whore I am—YESSS—OH FUCK YES—YOUR TEETH FEEL SO GOOD—HURTING ME JUST RIGHT—!"

Every downward thrust forced a wet, obscene slap—her juices already soaking my balls, dripping down my thighs.

She grinded her clit against my pubic bone on every upstroke, chasing friction like a woman possessed. Her free hand slid between us, fingers spreading her puffy lips so she could watch my cock disappear inside her—glistening, veined, stretching her wide.

"Look at that—fuuuuck—see how my greedy cunt is devouring your dick? It's sucking you in—milking you like a filthy vacuum—because nothing else matters anymore. Not that hateful prick. Not the hospital. Not the shame."

"Just this—your massive cock splitting my dripping hole wide open—fucking the guilt right out of my worthless mother's pussy—OHHHH SHIT—DEEPER—RIP ME APART—!"

She leaned back suddenly—hands braced on my thighs behind her—arching so her tits pointed at the ceiling, giving me the perfect view of her swollen clit rubbing against my cock with every grind.

Her hips rolled in filthy circles now—slow at first, then faster—making my cock stir her insides like a spoon in hot honey. She clenched her pussy deliberately—tightening around me like a velvet fist, squeezing in rhythmic pulses that dragged groans from my throat.

"Feel that? Feel my cunt clenching—making it tighter for you—milking your fat dick like it's starving for your cum—YESSS—OH FUCK—CLENCHING SO HARD—SQUEEZING EVERY RIDGE—GONNA MAKE YOU EXPLODE INSIDE ME—FILL THIS SLUTTY HOLE WITH YOUR HOT LOAD—!"

Her moans turned naughtier, vulgar waves crashing through the room—"AAAAHHHH—YES DADDY—POUND YOUR AUNTIE'S CUNT—MAKE IT GAPING—MAKE IT LEAK—OH GOD—I'M SO WET—SO FUCKING DRIPPING FOR YOU—LISTEN TO THAT SQUELCH—MY PUSSY'S PISSING JUICES ALL OVER YOUR BALLS—FUCK—FUCK—FUCKKKK!!!"

She sped up—bouncing now, ass cheeks slapping against my thighs with every drop. One hand reached back further, cupping my balls—squeezing gently, rolling them in her palm while she rode.

"These heavy balls—full of cum for me—gonna empty them deep in my womb—breed your old auntie—knock up this useless pussy even if it's too late—FILL ME—MAKE ME SWELL—MAKE ME YOUR PREGNANT BITCH—OHHHH YESSS—SQUEEZING YOUR NUTS—FEEL THEM CHURN—GIVE IT TO ME—!"

I gripped her hips—hard enough to bruise—and thrust up to meet her, driving deep enough that she screamed every time the head battered her cervix. Her tits swung in my face; I caught one nipple between my teeth, biting down just hard enough to make her arch and wail.

"YES—BITE ME—MARK ME—FUCK—HURTS SO GOOD—MY NIPPLE'S ON FIRE—OH GOD—BITE HARDER—MAKE ME BLEED—MAKE ME YOUR PAIN SLUT—AAAAHHHH—YES DADDY—CHEW ON YOUR AUNTIE'S TIT—WHILE YOUR COCK BREACHES MY WOMB—!"

She shocked me then—lifting off my cock with a wet pop, her pussy gaping for a heartbeat, leaking strings of slick before she spun around, still in cowgirl but facing away now—reverse style.

She grabbed my cock, aimed it at her entrance, and sank down again—slow this time, deliberate, so I could watch her ass cheeks spread around me.

"Watch this—fuuuuck—see how deep you're going? Look at my belly—OH SHIT—THERE—FEEL THAT BULGE? YOUR COCK'S BREACHING MY WOMB—PUSHING RIGHT INTO MY BABY ROOM—STRETCHING IT—MAKING ROOM FOR YOUR CUM—YESSS—OH FUCK YES—IT'S SO DEEP—I CAN FEEL IT IN MY GUTS—RAMMING MY CERVIX—OPENING ME UP—BREED ME DEEP—FLOOD MY UTERUS—MAKE ME CARRY YOUR SEED—EVEN IF I'M TOO OLD—DO IT ANYWAY—FILL THIS BARREN WOMB WITH YOUR HOT SPUNK—!"

She rode harder—ass bouncing, cheeks jiggling with every slam. Her hand pressed down on her lower belly, fingers outlining the faint bulge where my cockhead pressed from inside—showing me, rubbing it like she could feel every thrust through her skin.

"See? Right here—your dick's kissing my womb—fucking it raw—OHHH GODDDD—IT'S BULGING—PUSHING DEEPER—BREACH IT—BREAK THROUGH—FILL ME TILL I'M BLOATED—MAKE MY BELLY SWELL WITH YOUR CUM—LIKE I'M PREGNANT FOR REAL—FUCK—FUCK—I'M GONNA SQUIRT—GONNA PISS CUM ALL OVER YOU—YESSS—CLENCHING TIGHTER—FEEL THAT? MY PUSSY'S STRANGLING YOUR COCK—GONNA MAKE YOU SPURT—GIVE IT TO ME—!"

Her vulgar moans escalated—naughtier, explicit, echoing off the walls—"AAAAAHHHH—YES—FUCK MY WOMB—BREED YOUR DIRTY AUNTIE—MAKE ME YOUR CUM-FILLED WHORE—OH SHIT—MY CUNT'S TWITCHING—GONNA EXPLODE—SQUIRTING—SQUIRTING HARD—FUUUUCK—PISSING JUICES ON YOUR BIG DICK—LOOK AT IT SPRAY—SOAKING US—YES DADDY—MAKE ME YOUR SQUIRTING SLUT—!"

A violent gush erupted from her—clear, forceful, arcing out in powerful jets every time she slammed down, soaking my abs, the sheets, pooling beneath us. She didn't stop—kept riding through it, squirting in rhythmic bursts, her pussy spasming wildly around me.

Then she lifted off again—cock slipping free with a filthy schlorp—and dropped to her knees between my legs. "Now this—gonna deepthroat you—taste my own squirt on your dick—suck it clean—make you cum down my throat first—then back in my pussy—OH FUCK—OPEN WIDE—!"

She dove down—mouth engulfing me in one greedy swallow, throat relaxing as she took me balls-deep. No gag—just wet, sloppy suction, her tongue swirling around the cock, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed furiously. Spit drooled from the corners of her mouth, mixing with her saliva, making obscene slurping sounds.

"MMMM—FUCK—TASTES SO GOOD—MY JUICES ON YOUR COCK—DEEP IN MY THROAT—CHOKE ME WITH IT—FACE-FUCK YOUR AUNTIE—RAM IT DOWN—MAKE ME GAG—YESSS—GLUG-GLUG—SWALLOWING EVERY INCH—GONNA MILK THE CUM RIGHT OUT—SPURT IN MY MOUTH—FILL MY BELLY FROM THIS END FIRST—!"

Her hand pumped the base while she sucked—twisting, squeezing—other hand fondling my balls, tugging gently to coax the load.

She pulled off just long enough to spit on the head, then dove back down—throat-fucking herself on me, eyes watering, moans vibrating through my cock—"HMMMMPH—YES—DEEPTHROAT SLUT—YOUR AUNTIE'S A COCK-SUCKING WHORE—CHOKE ON IT—TAKE IT ALL—MAKE YOU CUM—SPURT YOUR HOT SEMEN DOWN MY THROAT—FLOOD MY GUTS—!"

I groaned—balls tightening—thrusting up into her mouth. She sensed it—sucked harder, throat contracting in swallows that massaged the head.

"Cum—now—give it—SPURT IN MY MOUTH—YES—OH FUCK—HERE IT COMES—!"

I erupted—thick, scalding ropes blasting straight down her throat. She swallowed greedily—milking every pulse—moaning around me—"MMMM—YES—SO HOT—SO THICK—SWALLOWING YOUR CUM—FILLING MY BELLY—TASTES LIKE HEAVEN—MORE—GIVE ME MORE—DRAIN THOSE BALLS—!"

When the last spurt faded, she pulled off—lips swollen, chin dripping—then climbed back up, straddling me again. My cock was still hard—twitching. She sank down slowly, clenching to make it tighter, showing the bulge in her belly once more.

"Back inside—fuuuuck—feel that? Still hard—gonna make you cum again—deep in my womb—clenching tight—milking you—OHHH YES—RIDE IT—SLAM IT—BREACH MY CERVIX—FLOOD MY BABY ROOM—SPURT YOUR HOT SEMEN INSIDE—MAKE ME DRIP FOR DAYS—YES—YES—COMING AGAIN—SQUIRTING ON YOUR COCK—FUUUUCK—PISSING MORE—SOAK US—CLENCHING HARDER—MAKE YOU EXPLODE—!"

She rode faster—ass bouncing, pussy clenching in vice-like pulses—her vulgar moans peaking—"AAAAHHHH—BREED ME—SPURT IT—HOT SEMEN—FILL MY WOMB—KNOCK UP YOUR AUNTIE—OH GOD—I FEEL IT—YOU'RE SWELLING—YES—SPURT INSIDE ME—FLOOD MY UTERUS—MAKE IT TAKE—!"

I slammed up one last time—burying deep—and erupted again. Ropes of hot semen blasted straight into her womb—pulse after pulse—filling her until it leaked out around my cock.

"YESSS—OH FUCK—YOUR HOT SEMEN—SPURTING SO DEEP—FLOODING MY WOMB—SO MUCH—IT'S OVERFLOWING—BREEDING ME—MAKING ME YOURS—FORGET EVERYTHING—JUST THIS—JUST YOUR CUM—AAAAHHHH!!!"

She squirted one final time—violent, drenching—body convulsing as she milked every drop.

Collapsed against me—panting, trembling—she whispered, "Please.. hmm... Aaah.. Don't pull out... keep your semen inside... let it breed me..."

I gripped her hips tighter—fingers digging into the soft flesh until red marks bloomed under my palms—and slammed up into her again, driving so deep her whole body jolted. Gabriela's filthy moans filled the penthouse like a porn soundtrack on repeat, raw and shameless, every word dripping with the need to drown her pain in pure, animal lust.