Meanwhile, Julian’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as he caught the flicker of heat and hesitation in her eyes. The flush staining her cheeks only fueled his hunger, making his grin deepen into something deliciously wicked.
“Come on,” he purred, “don’t be shy now. Show me what you’re really made of.”
His hand slid down, caressing along the curve of her waist, then drifting back up to cup one breast.
“Go ahead,” he teased, “squeeze them for me. Make them nice and cozy.”
His fingers twitched impatiently, eager to feel her respond, to watch her take control in the most intimate, desperate way.
Her breath hitched, cheeks burning hotter as his words sank deep. Slowly, almost hesitantly at first, her hands rose—soft, trembling—until her palms cupped her heavy breasts. Then, gathering courage, she pressed them together, squeezing herself tighter.
“Good girl,” he whispered, his mocking voice sending wicked thrill through her veins. “I want to hear you beg for me to use those breasts like the desperate woman you are.”
Her heart pounded, her internal walls crumbling with every word.
Beg? No, I won’t beg.
But…
I want to.
I want to be his plaything, his broken saint, utterly consumed.
Julian’s grin turned devilish, as he reached down and wrapped his fingers around the thick base of his cock.
Without breaking eye contact, he guided the tip upward, dragging it across her breast until it found her nipples.
Her breath hitched, her body tensing as the heat of him pressed against the sensitive flesh.
Oh gods… he’s really doing it.
The tip slid over one nipple, smearing his cum over her skin. She shuddered at the feeling, her whole body jolting as if struck by lightning.
Without wasting any more time, Julian shifted and pushed his cock between her breasts.
Her heart pounded wildly as the thick shaft slid into the soft, space between her hands. Her hands instinctively moved, squeezing her breasts around him just as he liked.
Oh gods… it’s so thick. So hot…
With that, he began to move.
Each slow thrust pressed him deeper into her cleavage, and the filthy, slickness of his arousal smeared across her skin, painting her.
She looked down in dazed disbelief, watching the thick head of his cock push out from between her breasts, only to disappear again with his next thrust.
Julian let out a low, hungry groan. “Fuck… that’s it. Just like that,” he growled, his voice now ragged with pleasure. “Your tits were made for this. For me.”
Each roll of his hips made her breasts bounce gently around him, the feeling of them wrapping his cock, driving him crazy.
“Keep them tight,” he whispered.
And she did. Her arms trembled as she pressed her breasts together harder, offering everything to him.
A Saint no more.
Just a woman.
No—his woman.
And then, on impulse—she looked up at him, lips parted, eyes glinting with mischief.
She spat.
A single, thick string of saliva, landed right on the head of his cock as it pushed out from between her breasts.
Julian froze.
Then grinned.
“Well, well…” he murmured, cock twitching from the contact, gliding even easier now as the spit covered him. “Didn’t expect you to be that kind of dirty.”
Neither did she.
But it was true.
I want to be filth for him.
I want him to fuck the last scrap of purity from my body. I want to be his favorite hole, his favorite mess.
She gave a faint, shaky moan—part arousal, part disbelief at how far she had already fallen. And still, her tongue darted out, tasting the corner of her lips, as if to remind herself she had done it. That she had spit on his cock. That she wanted to.
Julian thrust harder, encouraged by her willingness, by the fire lighting up in her eyes.
“That’s it,” he growled, pushing his cock deeper through her breasts. “Spit on me again. Show me how far you’ll fall to be mine.”
She didn’t hesitate this time.
Her lips parted again, eyes locked with his, and spat—another rope of spit falling directly onto his cock. It dripped down the tip, coating the soft flesh of her breast, and made the next thrust slicker, louder.
The sound alone was heavenly.
And she loved it.
“I’m yours,” she whispered, breathless and trembling, voice thick with lust and surrender. “Use me. However you want. However filthy you want. I don’t care anymore…”
Julian groaned, her surrender fueling his desire.
“Say it louder,” he commanded, grabbing her chin roughly and tilting her face up. “Look at me and say it like you mean it.”
She moaned at the roughness, her nipples hard and aching as his cock continued its thrusts. Her voice rose, edged with desperation.
“I’m yours. Your filthy Saint. I’ll spit, I’ll squeeze, I’ll let you fuck these tits until you break me.”
She didn’t blink. She meant every word.
Julian’s eyes burned with lust and something more—pride, perhaps, or possession. He gripped her breasts himself now, thrusting harder between them.
“I’m going to ruin these perfect fucking tits,” he barked. “Mark them, stain them, stretch them with my cum. And you’re going to thank me for it, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” she gasped. “Yes, please—use them. Use me!”
What am I saying…?But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
She wanted him to paint her chest in filth. To leave no doubt about what she had become. No holiness. No titles.
Just as she was gasping for air, lost in the rhythmic thrusts of his cock gliding between her breasts, Julian’s hands suddenly slid from her chest to her face.
She barely had time to react before he gripped both sides of her head, holding her steady, and with one swift thrust—he pushed the tip of his cock right past her lips.
Her golden eyes widened in pure surprise.
Oh gods—
The heat, the taste, the sheer size—it hit her all at once. She gagged slightly, instinctively trying to pull back, but Julian didn’t let her.
Her shock melted just as fast as it came.
He rocked his hips slowly at first, pushing deeper, letting her lips stretch around him. The warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her spit, the vibration of her muffled moans—it was all too perfect.
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