Chapter 5

The sun was now higher in the sky, slanting across the kitchen floor in hot strips of gold. They had just finished having their breakfast.

Lena was still licking marmalade from her fingertip when Marc stood, eyes blazing, and pulled her up by the hips. She laughed—a breathless, delighted sound—right before he bent her forward over the table.

Her sarong hit the floor.

Marc shoved plates and mugs aside. One toppled, shattered. Another followed. A fork clattered to the ground. A mug spun and cracked in two. The kitchen filled with the sound of breaking ceramic—violent, loud, perfect.

She gasped, bracing herself against the warm wood, her ass slick with sweat and want.

He entered her in one long thrust.

Lena cried out, her eyes wide, legs shaking as her body opened around him. The table groaned beneath them. Marc gripped her hips like he never wanted to let go. Then he leaned forward, grabbed her shoulders tight, and kissed her spine—slow, open-mouthed, wet.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this,” he groaned. “You were made to be taken.”

His mouth moved to her shoulder, then her neck. He sucked hard—claiming, biting, tasting.

Lena whimpered, her nails scraping the table. “Harder ... please, Marc...”

He obeyed. His thrusts turned brutal and perfect, slamming into her with rhythmic power. He grabbed her hair, wrapped it tight around his hand, and pulled her head back until she was gasping.

“Say it,” he growled against her ear. “Say you love being fucked like this.”

“I love it,” she cried. “I love you ... I love you ... oh God, Marc...”

She broke first. Her scream ripped through the air, body locking up as the orgasm overtook her. Her pussy clamped down around him, milking him, pulling him into the edge.

Marc lost it.

He groaned loud and deep, slammed into her one final time, and came hard—his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her. Another plate crashed behind them, forgotten.

They stayed there for a while, panting, bodies pressed, sweat-slicked and trembling.

Then they staggered to the bedroom without a word.

Lena rolled toward him, her hand brushing his chest. Her fingers found the faint line of sweat running down between his pecs. She followed it down, slow. Deliberate.

Marc caught her mouth with his. Open. Hungry.

She moaned into him, pulled herself over his hips, her bare skin sliding over his. His cock stirred between them. Still tender from earlier, but alive. Responsive.

“Again?” he breathed.

Lena kissed his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “As many times as it takes.”

She straddled him, grinding slow. Her wet heat coated him, slick and heavy. Marc’s eyes rolled back.

“I’m already sore,” he muttered.

Lena grinned. “Poor baby. Let me make it worse.”

She reached between them, gripped him, guided his cock into her.

They both gasped.

Lena sank down inch by inch, her body swallowing him with aching slowness. She was so wet he slid in with almost no resistance—except for the tightness. She clenched him like she never wanted to let go.

Marc moaned, hands gripping her thighs. “Fuck, you feel like fire.”

“Good,” she said, breath hitching. “I want to burn you up, little brother.”

She started riding him, slow at first. Rolling her hips. Letting his cock hit every sweet spot. Her breasts bounced lightly with each stroke, sweat running between them. Marc reached up, cupped one, sucked her nipple into his mouth.

She gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Just like that.”

Moments passed. Then more. They didn’t speak. Just breath, grunts, wet sounds, the quiet slap of bodies in rhythm.

Marc sat up suddenly, arms wrapping around her, keeping her close as he thrust up into her from beneath.

Lena cried out.

She clung to him, forehead against his, her body shaking.

They came together. Loud. Messy. Her pussy clamped around him like a fist. Marc emptied deep inside her, groaning against her mouth.

They collapsed, still joined. Hearts racing.

Neither moved.

Marc kissed her temple. Lena laughed, breathless.

“That was three.”

Marc chuckled. “You keeping count?”

She rolled her hips again, slow and cruel.

He whimpered.

“You better believe it,” she whispered. “Let’s see how high we can go.”

They lay flat on their backs, limbs sprawled, drenched in sweat and each other.

Marc’s chest rose and fell like he’d run a mile. Lena’s thighs trembled, one leg still hooked lazily over his hip.

“We ... might need a break,” Marc panted.

Lena laughed, brushing hair from her damp forehead. “No shame in it, champ.”

He groaned. “I feel like I need to ice my dick.”

She rolled to the side and opened the nightstand drawer. Pulled out a small, nondescript jar.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Miracle ointment,” Lena said with a grin. “Antiseptic, soothing, just a little numbing. Used it after orgies and gangbangs back in the day.”